USS Mercutio Mission Briefing, 6 Aug 07

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USS Mercutio Mission Briefing, 6 Aug 07

Postby CptStaceyTemplar » Sat Jun 14, 2008 1:14 pm

All right, folks. This is a little short notice, so bear with me.
Tonight's sim will be at the outpost described in the log below, Outpost Tango. Go ahead and skim the log for now since we're short on time. The premise is, we're all here on this crappy outpost, picking up medical supplies and getting a few repairs done, and Tango's giving us - Engineering specifically - headaches about it. =)

* * *

Outpost Tango was not serving the USS Mercutio’s needs well. It was a former military base on a barren planetoid halfway between the Federation’s center and its borders. The technology was difficult to update, and the base was abandoned, then turned over to an enterprising young Ferengi. So far he had succeeded in updating the most vital systems to modern levels – the rest dated to the late 23rd century. Their promised services to Starfleet vessels were being rendered very slowly to the Mercutio, and so everyone but Engineering had some free time on their hands.
Vahe wrinkled his nose at the look of the very 23rd-century corridor he was walking down. Not the bold, romanticized surroundings he had imagined for the adventures of the legendary James T. Kirk, not by a long shot. What wasn’t painfully dully was in poor taste; so when he saw a bar, he ducked inside, instantly greeted by a haze of smoke and a dozen gazes.
Instantly he was glad he had chosen casual dress. Even his com badge was hidden under his jacket. One gaze in particular, from an absurdly grinning man with a scar running the length of his face into his scalp, lingered and judged a little longer.
This man wanted to do business.
“Excuse me,” Vahe said to the bartender. His accent had come out thick at first, and it occurred to him suddenly to roll with it. “You haff no menu.”
The bartender smirked. “That’s ‘cause we ‘haff’ anything you can imagine.”
“No… private stock?” While the bartender considered this, Vahe gave a pointed look to the scarred man, and then back to deal with what he had just purchased. As a result of his previous habits, he was well-used to Ferengi money, and exchanged latinum from his very small stock of it for a mason jar of a sharp-smelling liquid. The bartender winked at him and shuffled off to tend to something else further down the bar. Vahe poured himself a glass, threw it back, and struggled not to cough. It tasted how the Jeffries tubes near Engineering smelled.
The moment the glass was set down, the man was in a seat beside Vahe. “What’s your name, traveler?”
“Dimitri.” It was the name of an Academy student Vahe had disliked strongly. He eyed the other warily. “Yours?”
“Hmm… why don’t you call me… Ed,” and he cackled. “Mind if I have some of that?” He was already filling his glass, but Vahe nodded all the same. He drank it, and reached for another.
“It is quite expensive,” Vahe said as the man worked on his second glass.
“Mm. You fly much?” asked Ed-who-was-not-Ed.
“Sometimes.” Vahe knew exactly what Ed meant, though he was startled by its suddenness. New dealer, or new product?
“Enjoy your flight,” and Vahe caught the small bag that landed in his lap. “You can book another here, if you like.”
Ed left Vahe alone, who fingered the “rocket fuel” under the bar. It felt and – yes – looked like a new product. Granted, he had last taken any narcotics when he was nineteen years old. He was twenty-five now… but humans pushing a brand new product in Federation space was not all that common, never mind giving out free samples. There were three pills, enough for three trips, to get him and perhaps one of his friends interested.
The temptation possessed Vahe for a long moment… but he made a fist, and told himself firmly what he must do. He pocketed the pills and his com badge with equal discretion, re-corked the mason jar and wrapped it up in his jacket. He rose so quickly from his seat, he nearly ran into someone moving nearby.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, and saw it was a strikingly beautiful woman. She was like a different version of Natasha – equally dark and dangerous in appearance, but shorter, with blue eyes that gleamed and heavily gelled hair. He would have been more attracted to her as a younger man, but she still startled him. He gave her an easygoing grin, she winked at him, and he made his way out of the bar, without a second thought for her, his mind quickly back on more pressing matters.
The woman, however, watched him carefully as he left, and licked her lips. He seemed… Federal to her, somehow, and so she imagined she might see him again. It was justification enough for her to punish “Ed”; surely her superiors would agree. She gave the scarred man a saucy look, impossible to miss, and walked unabashedly into the men’s bathroom. When Ed took off her top a minute from now, she would quickly and discretely reach the hatpin tucked into the back of her bra. Her people would not tolerate his carelessness.
Ed followed her into the bathroom, like a lamb to the slaughter.
CptStaceyTemplar
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