Shell Game

Posted on Sat Oct 20, 2018 @ 3:32am by Civilian 'Key Holder' Yolanthe Ibalin & Civilian Dorian Torel

1,706 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Victory Conditions
Location: The Box of Delights
Timeline: MD 35 1700

[ON]

Yolanthe counted to ten under her breath, as the colours of her body blossomed to a deep golden yellow, and then spoke. "Derok. You said you had twelve cases of the sixty eight kanar. I've got a bunch of angry cardassians who know the only place to get decent stuff is this station and desperately want to get drunk because terrorists blew up two of their ships and their embassies. They're drinking me dry and I can't afford to not supply them."

On the other end of the subspace connection, Derok, the owner of the small distillery in Cardassia III that produced some of the best mid-age Kanar she'd ever drunk, gave her an apologetic look. "I understand, Yolanthe, I do. But we've had other orders we've had to honor and supplies troubles of our own. The best I can give you is four."

"Four is not enough!" she growled. "You were paid in advance for those bottles".

"And you will get them, well not them, but I've got a reserve of seventy one."

"Which doesn't count," Yolanthe pointed out. "Its only twenty two years old." Mid-age Kanar run from twenty five to forty years matured.

"So I'll cut you a deal. But I'm out of mid age. And I'm not cracking the store held for senior. It would be commercial suicide. But if you want to upgrade to senior, that I can do."

Yolanthe resisted the urge to scream, even as the gold gave way to a brighter yellow. "I've got all the senior i need. But I can't make margin on it unless you sell it at Mid-age."

Derok shook his head. "I'm sorry, I can't do that. If you don't want the senior, the best I can do is give you the names of some other places that might have some mid still in stock."

"Yes, thank you." Yolanthe said, her tone short. "Whatever you can." She cut the connection, leaning her elboyson the glass desk of her office, running her hands through her now lemon yellow hair. Nothing was going right and she just couldn't get the stock. If she was paranoid she'd be looking for a conspiracy.

There was a knock. "What now?" she snarled. She wasn't in the mood for company.

Her main bar tender, Rosh Pelin, put his head round the door. "There's someone here to see you boss. He's being really insistant."

Yolanthe made a noise that expressed her annoyance. "What does he want?"

Pel shrugged. "He just said he had a delivery and you had to sign for it."

Yolanthe sighed again. "Fine, show him in."

Dorian waited patiently. While they had tried to push him away, no doubt because of the earlier blowup between their respective bosses, he had remained adamant. He waited to make his delivery, and as instructed only to the proper person. The Bajoran he had first spoken to re-emerged from the door marked Staff only, and led him back through it, and down to a corridor, where he opened one of several doors and indicated for Dorian to enter.

Yolathe sat behind her desk, a vivid dash of yellow against the black and white interior. She looked up when the visitor entered, her blank eyes skimming him up and down, evaluating. He seemed a bit....big... for a delivery boy. Tall and built. Taller than her she reckoned. And that took some doing.

Dorian nodded respectfully, "Ms. Ibalin, I work for Geral Lasuma. He wished he could have come himself but, as you know, running a business can keep one rather busy." Open the case he removed the decorative bag containing one of the rarest bottles of wine in the quadrant and a hand written note. Dorian always a keen observer waited to see her reaction.

At the mention of Lasuma's name, she looked past him, to Pel, one now lime green eyebrow at bar man, who shrugged. "Harry doesn't start till six." He replied to her unspoken question. Harry was an eight hundred pound gorn in a good suit. When he threw someone out, it wasn't metaphorically. Pel weighed less than she did. Physical confrontation was not what she paid him for..

Ms. Ibalin, I wish to offer my deepest apologies. I meant no offence and realize the poor timing of my arrival. As a peace offering I give you this wine and an invitation to an elegant dinner for you, and any of your staff that you wish to bring, aboard my ship for a night of rest and relaxation.

Respectfully
Geral Lasuma



Yolanthe read the note. She put it down and then checked the wine. Kandora champagne, 2323. The sharp green of her chartreuse skin blurred away to a pale pink. She raised an eyebrow again, this time it was rose. "He's asking me on a date?"

The question had actually caught him off guard, "Not to my knowledge," adding with his warmest smile, "but if he doesn't ask you out I will.

"He told me personally that he realized the poor timing of his previous visit and sent me as to not to...aggravate the situation. He is also aware of how hard you and your staff must be working to get things fully restored. The wine is a personal gift and, to my understanding, the invitation is open to you and your staff."


The pink paled through violet and out to a soft baby blue. "You're a cocky one." she noted. And built like a brick outhouse. Definitely not the sort who played gopher. Still, who knew these days. Federation men were a mystery most of the time.

She turned her attention back to the bottle. Kandora 2323 was famous. Possibly the best vintage still drinkable at seventy years old. Most wines, wherever their fruits had come from, were vinegar before fifty. Kandora's lasted a bit longer, and the 23 had been a superb year. There was supposed to only be a hundred bottles left, and most of those were laid down in museums, vinicultural history, never to be drunk before they became undrinkable. She held it up. "He really wants my attention, doesn't he?"

He found her ability to shift her colouration was captivating; wondering if it was strictly reactionary. He found himself hoping she accepted if only to observe and gauge her reactions. "I've worked for him for some time and he only gives out the Kandora on special occasions. But when he wants to make amends, he really makes amends."

It was a very generous gift. She looked at the wine, slowly turning back to a mist pale pink. She was tempted, but she had also no intention of getting on board a strange man's ship, with or without chaperones/ witnesses. Especially if Lasuma was tangled up with Veyr. Then they'd be hostages.

"Tell you what," She decided. "I'll have dinner with him, but not on his ship. He can pick a restaurant here."

His look of disappointment was genuine. "And here I had hoped you would allow me to be your escort for the evening...perhaps another time."

After a brief pause he continued. "I know Geral's personal chef is going to be incensed but he'll get over it. How many of your staff will be joining you...so he can make the needed reservations."

The blue tones came back, stronger this time, more cobalt than the previous pale blue. Definitely cocky. But who would she bring? She wasn't going to take any of the boys, she wasn't willing to take the risk that this Lasuma and his very big assistant were above board. And by the same token, she wasn't taking Klia. The Orion woman was barely recovered from her months long captivity. Yolanthe wouldn't put her in danger again.

She tapped peacock blue finger nails on the glass desk, thinking. Bringing Harry would just look too aggressive. And going alone would be just stupid. Except could she really give anyone but her a night off? She was short a dabo boy since Ahjess did his moonlight flit, and she never had enough wait staff, and if she wasn't there, the bar would be down a barman, so that meant no to Jessica, Vedra, and Leila. Edward was still a man, and even though he was older, and more disposable by her societies standards, he was her assistant manager, he wasn't less valuable to her. And Draxx, irritant that he was, had sent Zoe to her to keep her safe, not drag her straight back into danger.

She didn't have much choice, she would have to go it alone. "I think I'm going to have say it's just me," She'd have to do something to mitigate the sheer stupidity of that. A thought occurred, safety in numbers and in public on the station couldn't be that dangerous. "Unless he's prepared to entertain us all on the Promenade after we close, I really can't spare the staff."

Smiling warmly as he looked at her. He was definitely into her for some reason and the fact he couldn't put his finger on exactly why was even more alluring. "I think I can convince him to shift from a dinner to an after close reception; fter all it was an open invitation to all. I will also, personally, see to the securing of a neutral location."

She relaxed a little and turned another shade darker, so she was the colour of a tropical sea. If his boss did mean her harm, surely he would have jumped at a chance to get her alone. "Tell your boss I look forward to it. Does he have a day in mind?"

"Would two days be too soon?"

Well Lasuma didn't hang about. And after the last few weeks trying to get the Box back into operating status they could all use a break. "Not soon enough," she replied with a smile. "Just long enough to find a party dress."

He returned her smile with another of his. "I can't wait to see it." He clicked his heels and bow slightly his eyes never breaking contact with hers. "See you then."

[OFF]

Yolanthe Ibalin
Propriator
Deep Space Five

Dorian Torel
Bodyguard/Henchman for Geral Lasuma

 

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