Contraband

Posted on Sat Nov 11, 2017 @ 3:41pm by Commander Caleb Ryan & Ensign Jessica Mayhew

1,596 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Rumours
Location: Deck 1033/Docking Bay
Timeline: MD 9/2300

Hepzibah tapped her booted foot impatiently, her fluffy white furred tail swishing agitatedly behind her, arms crossed beneath her full bosom clad in a red midriff top, painted claw tapping with annoyance on the arm of her leather jacket. She straightened up as she heard heavy footfalls on the decking. Her hand brushed at the phaser in the holster at her hip, her tail stilling and her ears perking forward.

The white-furred Caitian relaxed as she saw an Andorian, a Tellarite, and a Ferengi enter the remote lower docking bay.

“You’re late,” Hepzibah snapped. “This is why I don’t like dealing with amateurs.” She glared at the Ferengi. “Your uncle Nazl was always punctual.”

The Ferengi huffed his skinny chest and tried to stand as tall as his five foot nothing allowed. The Andorian and Tellarite shifted uncomfortably, nervous.

If she wasn’t needing the latinum so much…

Hepzibah waved it away. “You’ll still get your finder’s fee, Twizl,” she assured him. Her poofy Persian cat tail slapped the Ferengi in the face as she turned and walked over to an unlabeled crate. It wasn’t large. She popped the latch and opened it up. Inside were a half dozen Cardassian hand disruptors, about a generation old, surplus from the Dominion war. They were fairly ubiquitous and cheap, and this sale was small.

“I’m only doing this out of grudging respect for Nazl. He was a slimey toad, but he was a good client.”

The Andorian and Tellarite picked up a disruptor each, examining them, mostly fumbling around with them.

“This end goes toward whoever you want to shoot,” Hepzibah said, using a finger to turn the Tellarite’s disruptor away from her. “They aren’t loaded, but seriously, don’t point it at something you don’t intend to shoot. And don’t point it at me.”

“Not loaded?” The Andorian huffed indignantly. “How are we supposed to use these to defend ourselves if they aren’t powered?”

Hepzibah rolled her eyes. “Relax, Einstein,” she said. “The power packs wouldn’t get through the station’s sensors. As it is, the moment you fire one of these, you’re going to trigger the security sensors,” she pointed out. “On station, you’re much better with a trusty knife.”

With that, she pulled her own knife and twirled it around her fingers before using it to pry open the bottom of the box where the power cartridges lay shielded.

The Andorian eagerly reached for one, and Hepzibah slapped his hand. “What did I just tell you?” she snapped. “You want to bring Security down here? Goddess, I hate amateurs. Aren’t you Promenade merchants?” She eyed them and then looked to Twizl.

The Ferengi shifted nervously.

“Ugh. Twizl. Really? Let’s get this over with before Security shows up. You have the latinum?”

“Of course!” The Andorian and Tellarite each pulled out a small black case and opened it.

Hepzibah did a quick visual that it was the amount agreed upon and then closed them up. “Then the merch is yours to do with as you like, gentleman.” She tossed one of the cases to Twizl and tucked the other into the back of her tight black leather pants.

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE! SECURITY!” came a booming voice.

“Oh, for the love of Bast!” Hepzibah groaned, rolling her eyes. “Two more farruking minutes!”

“Eep!” the Tellarite grabbed one of the disruptors and aimed it at the security officers. Nothing happened except him getting stunned and flopping to the deck.

“Hands up!”

The Andorian’s hands immediately shot up. A wet stain appeared on his pants.

Hepzibah sniffed and pulled a face. “Amateurs.” Lazily she raised her hands and turned, tail flicking away behind her.

“Hello again, Jessica,” the Caitian said with a coy smile to the attractive blonde in charge of the security team.

“It’s Ensign Mayhew,” Jessica snapped.

“Well, yes, I suppose it was when we were playing good kitty, bad kitty a month ago,” Hepzibah mused.

Jessica flushed. “On your knees and hands behind your head!”

***

Caleb yawned as he strode into the security office. He didn’t appreciate getting called in the middle of the night.

Jessica stood up from the front desk. “Sorry, sir. But she asked specifically for you.”

Caleb sighed. “Yes. She would,” he said with annoyance.

“Interrogation One, sir.”

“Thank you, Ensign.”

Caleb walked back and got himself some coffee before heading to the interrogation room. Hepzibah had lounged back as much as she could with her hands maglocked to the table, putting her high-booted feet up on the table.

“And so here we are again, Hepzibah,” Caleb said. He put one of the coffees in front of her. “Coffee flavored milk, as ya like, with a splash of Jack.”

Hepzibah pouted and shrugged her shoulders.

Caleb pulled out a key and unlocked her hands.

The Caitian sighed, flexing her fingers and claws, rubbing the fur of her wrists until it fluffed again.

“That’s a cute assistant you got there, Caleb,” Hepzibah purred. “You always get the cutest.”

Caleb gave a wry smile. “Guess it’s the drawl, hon,” he said, sipping his coffee. “So let’s talk. What’re ya doin’ sellin’ weapons on mah station?”

“Ah!” Hepzibah said with a grin. “You can’t prove I was selling weapons.”

Caleb arched an eyebrow. “We caught ya red handed.”

“Did your security team actually see the transaction?”

Caleb turned his cup in his hand.

Hepzibah just grinned, seeing the tell. “They didn’t, did they? They got there just too late.” She laughed.

“The security cameras--”

“Are likely about as useful as they were for solving Nazl’s murder,” Hepzibah said. “Face it. All you have are merchants in possession of illegal weapons.”

Caleb frowned. “What do ya know about the sensor malfunctions?”

“Well, I don’t know, officer,” Hepzibah said, leaning forward and baring her furry cleavage and batting her large blue eyes. “Can we make a deal?”

Caleb didn’t fall for it for a minute. “Talk. Then we’ll see what kinda deal can be made. Are you thinkin’ I cain’t get that young Ferengi ta roll on ya, Hepzibah?” He grinned.

Hepzibah sighed. “Damn amateurs,” she muttered. “You really want to book me over half a dozen faulty Cardassian disruptor pistols?

“Faulty?” Caleb raised an eyebrow.

“They’re old, Ryan,” Hepzibah said. “No one’s maintained them. I shinied them up. But they’ll get off two, maybe three shots before the induction coil burns out, and then it will be a paperweight.”

“So you were gonna cheat your clients?”

“I was teaching them a lesson. Like I said...amateurs. I had inferior product I needed to move. Call it a fire sale. They were just gullible and desperate enough. What are they going to do? Put a hit out on me? That would cost more than they paid for the disruptors.”

“What does that all have ta do with mah sensor malfunctions?”

“Nothing,” Hepzibah said. “Just that I’m chump change. You remember Moia Ilmater?” she asked Caleb.

He nodded. “She’s been out of business for a decade now,” he pointed out.

“Retired, or dead...or in prison,” Hepzibah said, studying Caleb

Caleb remained perfectly poker faced.

Damn! He’s good.

“She’s before your time,” Caleb said.

“Technically...she was right about when I started,” Hepzibah said with a shrug. “I did some jobs for her occasionally after I got booted from Starfleet. Muscle, security, mostly. This weapons gig is newer to me. The field is wide open now that Torm is dead. I thought I’d dip my hand in.”

Caleb just stared at the white-furred Caitian. “And the sensors?”

“I’m getting there,” Hepzibah hissed testily. “So right before Moia went...walkabout, or whatever happened to her, she was talking about a big cache of Dominion tech she had gotten her hands on. This was after the war, when every Cardassian who had a Jem’Hadar rifle was flooding the market just to get some credits to feed their family, before the reconstruction took off. But Moia made it sound like this wasn’t weapons. Or at least not just weapons. There was something more valuable. The Alpha Dominion was the first contact they had with cloaking technology. Seems like they were trying to crack what the Klingons and Romulans had. Of course, the Cardies were more than willing to help with that. It sounded like they didn’t have much like, especially a functional ship system, but scrambling local sensors? Yeah, that was easy enough.”

“And this tech is out there?”

The Caitian shrugged. “That’s the scuttlebut. But it wasn’t Moia who got to the cache. She disappeared shortly after.”

Caleb nodded, his face still not revealing anything. “So who’s behind the scrambler tech?” He picked up his cup, sipping his coffee.

Hepzibah gave Caleb a sly grin and leaned forward conspiratorially. “And this is where I think you’ll move stars and planets for a deal, Commander Caleb Ryan. Moia sold the location of the cache...to Daimon Dys, right before you nabbed him.”

Caleb’s porcelain cup shattered as his fist clenched, splashing his hand and the table with scalding hot coffee and blood.

FIN

Commander Caleb Ryan
Chief of Security/Tactical

Ensign Jessica Mayhew
Security Officer
NPC Caleb Ryan

Hepzibah P’Rurr
Caitian Mercenary and arms dealer
NPC Caleb Ryan

Twizl
Ferengi shoe merchant, aspiring black marketeer, and Nazl’s nephew
NPC Caleb Ryan

 

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