Good fences and all...

Posted on Fri Jan 4th, 2019 @ 12:32am by MERCHANT RANKS Fala Gaz (NPC) & Second Mate Simon Starr
Edited on on Mon Jan 14th, 2019 @ 7:54pm

1,534 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Meanwhile...
Location: Deck 17 Cargo Bay
Timeline: Post Launch

-Start-

{Deck 17 - Cargo Bay}

Starr was performing routine searches in the cargo bay of all the cargo. He knew that some in the crew may not appreciate his work straight away, but if there was anything that put the ship in danger either from something in the cargo bay, or external threats to the ship. Starr felt as the Security chief he needs to know about any concerns so that he can be prepared. He also knew that sometimes, it's better not to ask questions - at least as a Junior officer.

He started his next task on the list that Talloc left him, and ensured that the packages were secure and if there was anything out of the ordinary he could be prepared for it in the future.

The Exo Comps carried several multi ton crates, incongruity in repose. She turned on her heel to go back inside the cargo bay, one more precious run, late at night and she would be offloaded. Moving her shipments to her quarters was midnight work, so seeing the inimitable Mr. Starr in the cargo bay gave her stomach a whirl. Fala had not finished locking the sensor blinds on her private cargo locker, stepping out for only a moment. Cursing fate, she needed to act, it was time to pull rank.

"Mr. Starr?! I need to speak to you... over here." She hoped it wasn't too obvious how she drew him away from the locker bank further on his path. Her thoughts turned quickly, but an item not completed occurred to her, and in seconds she had a plan, and a real work order. Lies often were 90% truth. There were a dozen contraband crates still begging to be gone through, in the loading bay security hold. Boring work for a security chief, but today the job was his.

"Ah, ShipMaster" Simon paused. "Is everything OK?" as he walked over to the Ferengi. They were always inscrutable, and Simon never liked that.

Simon preferred those that he could tell what was going on, but he knew not even a Betazoid was able to get into the mind of a Ferengi from his Academy days. Humans stood even less of a chance.

Nevertheless, he knew to always be cautious when dealing with the Ferengi race, and hoped that this wouldn't be too difficult.

"The Security reports for this cargo never came by, so I came by to check it out, make sure it's not putting anyone in danger. After all, as your people say, you can't make a deal if your dead" He stated.

Fala forced a laugh, "Perhaps a new rule to be recommended to the Nagus, I couldn't agree more!"

She pointed to the secure locker where the contraband and suspect crates had been sent to. "Mr. Starr, a number of suspicious crates are in the office there, can you be a dear and clear them or submit them to evidence?"

It took a considerable willpower to keep her from glancing at the locker that currently held a cloned Founder Stem Cell, among other similarly nefarious items. It represented a small fortune to any government keen to pay. It would also break a dozen post Dominion War accords.

Simon looked towards the office and went to investigate the crates. Scanning each one to be done. There were a few crates of questionable nature, though not law breaking, and he went through each one.

There were a couple of other crates with something more illicit, that he came across. Making a note of which ones have already been approved for the Second Star’s slightly different style of mission that he was used to, and clearing them.

For those that were not listed on the manifest. Simon set them aside, ready to process as evidence in contraband. If the Intelligence officers saw these parcels, then the crew may find themselves on the wrong side of Starfleet. Something Simon didn’t want to see again.

“Well, there are a few issues here” Simon said, turning to Fala once again. “The crates of Romulan Ale, I can understand that we would use, I mean - we are a trade ship after all. There are, however a few other… items, that I’ve noticed.” He showed Fala the manifest. “See here, in this locker, there’s some sort of… weak lifesign of some kind” as he started approaching the lockers with his scanner.

Her ruse had done nothing, he had of course already deep scanned the rooms and had bulletins to work through. She had just enough time to come up with a new plan, it was more knee jerk than her usual, but he was walking towards the locker now!

"Mr. Starr? That locker is my personal vault. Whatever you think you detect is a baffle to your scans. You may skip inspection on those."

Simon looked over at Fala at the request. Folding his scanner, he came up and asked "Tell me for the sake of all the crew, is what is in their either dangerous to the crew, or something the intelligence guys will not be happy with?" As he asked, the sharpness in his voice was that of a typical police officer questioning a witness. He made sure to accent the "dangerous to the crew" part of his conversation.

Unimpeachable, that's her cloak of security and he threatened to end the warm glow she enjoyed underneath it. She couldn't out right lie, that would be poking the bear. The truth would force an issue far sooner than it needed to be. She needed to make sure he saw nothing.

"Life is danger sweetie, and so is that locker if you go near it without a signed warrant. I am entitled to my privacy, and that order stands from here on."

It was a gamble, he could have a warrant in minutes digitally, but Fala was certain his ambitions didn't merit calling in Federal enforcement on his boss.

Simon gave Fala a look, one that showed his motives clearly. He was concerned about the safety of the ship, and needed to make sure that any risks were at least known about. “Life is indeed dangerous,” Simon began “but unnecessary danger just hinders the crew. What if whatever is in there is living and hostile, and Beck finds out?”

Here was the chance Starr had been waiting for. He wanted to see if Fala was really willing to put profit above the crew. He had to be sure, every other Ferengi he knew would make a bad decision here.

Her instincts fired off all at once, Lie, no Bribe... cheat- steal-kill? , and then her rational brain kicked in.

"I will explain only as much as this. There is nothing here that poses any risk to the ship or crew without heavy mechanical intervention. I have made a living in transport, and cargo, it's safe delivery and handling."

Starr replied, monotonously “was that really such a hard question to answer, that is all I wanted to know.”

"This ship is only ever moments from insolvency, our finances require someone like me who can make the bleeding page black by the end of the day. That includes your salary as well. This conversation endangers the crew more than any of the packages you are so desperate to unwrap."

“Oh, I never wanted to see it unless it did, I have a responsibility to the crew as security that there is no unnecessary risk” he began. “Financial insolvency is a problem, I won’t deny that. But what is the point in having the finances if there’s no ship left to finance?” He ended bluntly.

Fala felt the overreach on her part, retracting her claws just a bit she nodded in a humble acceptance of the remonstration. "Salient. But I have the ship, whether it flies with a starving crew, or founders well-fed, I plan on having this ship. Finances work themselves out, but they must be allowed to do so with the guidance of an invisible hand, don't you agree?

Simon gave a knowing look. “Of course, but what’s the point of a ship this size if there’s no crew to run it. We’re both doing our jobs, after all,” he replied. He thought a moment, before responding bluntly “life is the most precious commodity, and the most useful,” his more anti-authority time coming out. One of the reasons he didn’t get on well at Starfleet.

Fala heard his point loud and clear. His loyalty was not bought, it was earned. If Simon felt she was a threat he would be knocking on the door hard. Life, not profit was what drove him. This warning was also a favor he earned. She knew this marker would be called in, and she respected the game he played. Simple, nice, unassuming demeanor were often the equivalent to still waters in crocodile infested swamps. She was more afraid of a kind word and gentle smile than any bluster or threats. True players, kept the cards close, and knew when to play nice.

“...don’t you agree?” He asked, smiling quite plainly.

-End-

-Stephen
-Austen
-Ben

 

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