Eps 2 Act 2: Bargain's & Bushwacks

[Sjet]

“A trickster’s way? You claim I would run a Janus game to do you wrong?” A’bram snorted “Were you not a Vulcan I would think you tarring me unjustly. I play the honest game of sales in items poorly protected by previous owners: if you desire peace of mind go forth well armed against deceit.

He looked at the group, and nodding two the two silent figures who had yet to join the conversation proper: Sjet and Zuub.

“Look at these two: looking down their nose at me and mine. Might as well have walked into my house and pushed my wives from the hearth. Got the rod of Starfleet across their backs and no mistake: soldiers of honour in a den of thieves. Except here they are, away from their precious Fleet and rules, and all they know to do is to stand tall and support the weight of worlds.”

A’bram smiled at Zuub, and gave a little shrug.

“No harm in stating the obvious love: seen plenty of your sort here in the last few years. Seems your Federation has gotten into the knack of starting wars, or getting embroiled in: seems more than likely one day they’ll lose the next fight they stick their noses into. The Centauri Tryiad’s pay top dollar for Fleeter’s in need of work, and the Orions are always looking for indentured ships maintainers. Though that markets a touch flooded at the moment.”

TAG-Zuub, and there’s a clue to a larger mystery there.

“Look, I do not decieve you, nor mislead you. My gang of thieves, young though the are, are barred from working the Embassy Lane under pain of my screamin’ death. My girl will take you to it, and from there you will find the Gorn shops easily. If it pleases you I could even send a message ahead to warn of your arrival to his store, so you can sit down to tea and dumplings with the Gorn.” A’bram said, looking up at the washed out blue sky “But can we hurry up before the sun gets any higher? Liable to burst to flaming bits if I’ not inside soon.”

TAG-Zay and Sa’tan/All

[SabrinaPandora]

[Ciara Mei]

[Aoife]

"A jewel to lead a jewel it is then," Emerald smiled at the young girl and motioned for her to lead them forward into the crush of the bazaar. "I thank you A'bram for your hospitality, and do hope that no flames should spike from your head when the sun rises a little more. A good warning for us all, I do think." She turned to the other Starfleet officers, and inclined her head slightly to them.

"Introductions made. The rest is up to you. Good luck!" And with that, Emerald turned and walked off into the crowd following the young girl. Once again, she didn't wait for the others, as she wanted a few minutes to herself. As soon as she was out of sight of the rest of the group, she snagged the arm of S'halli and gave her a couple of instructions of her own. Mostly to wait for a moment, then go back and get the others saying that Emerald had gone on ahead. S'halli nodded, a bright grin on her face.

"You're wanting to go that way then E'rald," she said, in a high thin voice. "You're looking over there."

Emerald swiftly tucked herself through the gap between two booths, and was out of sight just around the time she heard S'halli say clearly "She's gone on ahead to the Gorn shops. I told her where to find 'em so that she may get a good bit of work done afore the sun rises too high."

TAG - All.

Emerald backtracked along a parallel set of booths, keeping crowds between herself and any of the open spaces where she might be spotted. She bartered away her pale green shawl for another with a woven pattern of reds, golds and oranges. This she draped over her head and across a shoulder, in the same style as many of the women present. It wasn't a very good way to change her appearance, but it'd do in a pinch.

[SabrinaPandora]

Th overheated security chief from the ice planet standing in a bazaar on a desert planet, who desperately wanted to find some shade if not a refrigerator unit to prevent her brain from broiling itself in her own skull, looked around at the rest of the landing party with a curious questioning expression.

Were they supposed to follow? Were they supposed to stay here and deal with this fellow? Were they supposed to seek out this gorn? As usual in such cases, Lieutenant P'Trell did not know, either from a lack of understanding on her part or a lack of instruction- she was never sure which was the case, though she usually assumed that it was a lack of understanding on her part. Having accepted her rather limited intellect years ago was a boon in such cases, where she could assume she simply misunderstood the situation.

Peering out from between the gauzy wraps of the head covering she was wearing to try keeping the light and heat at bay, the large polar blue eyes blinked as Talla studied the others, waiting for someone to tell her what to do. Those azure eyelids fluttered as she wobbled slightly from dehydration and heat prostration, but the small soldier steadied herself. This was a dangerous mission in a dangerous place, and she had to be ready to fight and alert for threats.

Well, other than all of the toughs currently surrounding them, that is...

~tag any

[Ciara Mei]

Jones had gone off, following the child. Zayna was ready to follow, but then stopped herself. It wasn’t for lack of wanting to follow, it was more spotting P’Trell stumbling a bit. A frown on her face, Zay walked over to her, pulling some water from the bag she had. She knew better than to come to a place like this without some type of hydration. In this case, someone needed it more than she did.

“Here.” She stated, handing over the bottle, lowering her voice a bit, “I don’t know why they sent you out here with your suit all beat up. Keep that bottle, I’ve got another. I’ve been on far to many desert planets, and water is always necessary.”

She gave her first smile in quite some time, though it might have looked a bit scary. “We should catch up with her,” Zayna said, nodding to Jones. “Shouldn’t be doing this on her own, though seems some of this is right up her alley. Come on, I don’t think we have to rush, though we should keep up.”

Tags: P’Trell, all

[Sjet]

Sjet and the other's moved from the small alleyway and into one of the main throngs of traders and merchants. On one stall could be seen racks of Klingon disruptors, which like the Federation phaser rifles set beside them had all their markings clearly worked off. On another stall were racks of silks and other cloths, a spindly armed merchant boasting loudly to their finery and good standing.

Be it a tapestry that had once hung in the Bajoran's temples before the occupations, or a Federation MkV ADCAP photon torpedo with one careless owner, everything could be found at the Bazaar.

The group followed S'halli as the little woved between legs and under stall, the taller Starfleeter's in disguise having to work to keep up. Sjet was worried about Jones, being off by herself: but it's wasn't like he'd ordered her to do that. In fact the science officer seemed to have thrown herself at the nearest exit chute made available.

Besides would Santra notice if they came back with one less? The old Bajoran had probably resorted to numbering all of them.

When the group finally made it to Embassy Lane, they knew it instantly. For one the street was a lot quieter, the traffic flowing through it seeming to know instinctively to keep the noise down. LIttle trade was being made on this street, with large semi permanent tents and awnings providing cover for three major groups that called the lane their home. The Orion Syndicate camp was easily enough to spot, with a trio of hulking and muscled green Orion men standing bare chested at the flap into the sprawling tent. What Sjet noticed and thought odd was the weapons on display: wicked spiked war clubs and whips, but not a energy weapon to be seen.

Opposite them was a tent of equal size and standing, this one coloured in reds, oranges and radiant golds of the Centauri Triads. One part political movement, one part criminal empire, the Triad was a Federation export to the galaxy that went head to head with the Orions on every front. It was true that crime was a lessening trend for Federation citizens, but even in a society as beautiful as the Federation there were always people wanting to exploit their fellows. The Tirad's guards stood in desert wear, with long curving swords of an obsidian material hung from their hips. All except for one, whose owner was putting the blade through an impressive display directed towards the Orion camp.

Not that the Orions noticed, their eyes constantly roving the passing crowd of people.

"I thought A'bram said there was a third group, The Family?" Sjet asked, rubbing his jaw "From Sigma Iotia? I've heard of that planet before I swear of it...something to do with a Horizon or something?"

TAG-All

And there, at the end of Embassy Lane, was a sprawling collection of junk and parts with a simple sand stone building of large blocky dimensions sat behind them. A holographic sign flickered through preset languages, displaying wears and prices that were just north of extortionate. All of it topped off by a projected image of a dragon's skull that opened and set it self aflame with blue embers.

"Subtle." Sjet mumbled, noticing their guide had vanished. He turned to look at Sai'tan "You ready to make sure what we've come for is in working order?"

TAG-Sai'tan

[Amanda Rose]

[Nevian]

[SabrinaPandora]

Accepting the water gratefully the polar pixie partially drank it down, introducing it slowly to give her body a chance to process it without shock. Beaming a smile at the confident young officer who had done her a kindness, the antennae atop Talla P'Trell's head wiggled under the gauzy off-white cover she wore as she whispered to her shipmate, "Thank you Ensign Zayla Ryler. Yes, I think you are right... look, Captain S'jet is moving. We should go now I think!"

From Zuub's expression of empathy to Zayna's simple offer of assistance it showed that her shipmates could tell she was in distress, and they cared. They might just form a crew after all... which made the little lieutenant even happier despite the brutal oppressive heat that was killing her by degrees.

Moving cautiously out of the ambush, Talla took the time to note the positions of their assailants and watch the landing party's exit. After all, it would not do for them to be shot because she ran ahead ignoring the show of force in the side street of the Bazaar. As she watched the last sentry eye her once all had moved past, she extended her index fingers then raised her thumbs, making a universally understood child's representation of a firearm. Pointing to the sentry she wagged her fingers slightly while lowering her thumbs in the universally recognized gesture known to many cultures as 'pew pew pew'. The upraised middle finger of the humanoid told her these were not mercenaries nor professional fighters, but lookouts. Should it have come down to an actual fight, these toughs would have been more bluff and numbers than an organized threat.

It paid to establish such things in Talla's experience. After all, while she did not want this situation to escalate, should it do so she wanted to know where she stood. And this simple exchange told her a bit about whom she was dealing with.

Scampering to catch up with the landing party, the ice imp panted- her legendary endurance was nonexistent in such a climate without protection, and she tired far too easily. But she would push herself because there was a mission and she was needed. After all, if necessary she would fight or run or push herself until she literally dropped dead, such was her devotion to her duty. Though it didn't look like that was going to be the case today- the landing party was not in trouble as yet and the nature of the mission was to avoid conflict if possible.

Of course, the day was young.

Weapons and silks, jewels and ores, technologies and pleasures were all for sale. Most of it was lost on the azure-skinned alien, who wanted for few material goods. Somewhere along the way she had lost her box of mementos- children's drawings of her from her time as an Alaskan deputy on Earth, medals from Starfleet Academy, her deputy badges, her old fisherman's hat with the holes cut out for her antennas from the Magestic. Even the crystal that Doctor Laria Jorel had once given her to call for help if ever she needed the powerful psychic was gone. Her photos of Irky and Be'vaQ and the Captain-Admiral were all lost, and she had nothing but her memories now.

Remembering the people about whom she had cared so deeply that were lost to her made the compact chief begin to sniffle and tear up, even as she scurried to catch up with the landing party, trying to dodge around the hubbub and keep up with her longer-legged peers. That life was gone, and she had accepted that fact... but the emotions still blindsided her sometime. Sniffling loudly she blinked back tears when she was suddenly pulled up short.

A nausicaan had grasped the grip of her kul zeratt semi-automatic slugthrower, a loud primitive weapon she had won arm wrestling a large overconfident mechanic onboard the Big Red. Had the nausicaan drawn the weapon correctly it would have slid easily out of its holster across her back, but like many of his species, he was strong and durable, but none too bright. Whipping out her leg as she spun, Talla broke his grip on the weapon even as she swept his legs oput from under him, dropping the meatsack to the dusty ground before grasping one of his feet and twisting it violently. It did not break the limb but it did give the mercenary a nasty sprain that she felt should hinder him from following her.

"Phloog!" Talla swore under her breath as she staggered after the landing party once more, leaving the Nausican to fumble for a disruptor that she would not be around to see brandished. The little bit of exertion had cost her, and she had to restrain herself from whining. It was just... so... hot. Drinking down the rest of the water Ryler had given her helped slightly, as doggedly the melting midget made tracks as best she could. If she lost the landing party then they were bound to get into a fight and need her. The fact that she was not exactly in her best form was irrelevant and she was trying hard not to think about the fact that if they lost her down here without Federation starship scanners they might not find her before the sun cooked her and melted her like an icicle in springtime.

The very rapid pulse pounded in her brain, but she could still see and her muscles weren't cramping yet, so Talla was going to be fine. She had to be. This was just some desert survival training was all. Easy as skating a figure 8.

Entering into Embassy Lane, Talla began to panic as this was a wider area, but she could not spot the landing party. At her height visibility was poor, and they were not to use their comm badges save in dire emergency. Wishing for the seventeenth time that she could just sit on an ice cube until it melted, she was struck by an idea. Doctor Zuub... since spending time with her, the culturally retarded Andorian had realized that she could seem to feel where the other Andorian was whenever she tried. It had happened to her idly a few times as she tried to give the other woman space- a concept she had learned about in therapy for which she was proud of herself for now applying. However, her mind would wander from time to time, and occasionally an erotic memory of their encounter would bubble up from Talla's subconscious unbidden, and once she thought about the slender sinuous surgeon before long Talla tended to have an idea of where Zuub was at the moment.

Scent was the strongest key to memory, and as her antennas waved about in lazy circles, the security chief who had spent five minutes on her station thus far inhaled the dry and dusty air of the desert planet. The heat of the inhalation dried out her nostrils badly, and she paused to hork out a few dust boogers. The guardsmen assembled for the three houses paid her little heed- she appeared to be an idiot child, carrying weapons that wouldn't work in the energy dampening field even if they were charged.

Taking account of the surroundings, the loyal lieutenant turned to try again, to get in touch with her native abilities and feel the other Andorian through triggering a memory. Then promptly bumped into Doctor Zuub's left hip. In her... something, Talla felt the woman offer her the sentiment of a hug, and she marveled at the ability and ease with which Zuub used it.

The landing party was assembled, and they were... there? Talla did not know. There were details of the mission she was sketchy on, and it was very hot. Those swords...

"Obsidian blades are cut from volcanic glass. Very sharp, very dangerous. Very heavy," the ice sprite mumbled. "Melee means dampening field but they still have gun emplacements, see? Just in case." Singsong, the Andorian rambled on about the tactical situation.

~tag