Welcome to Star Trek Simulation Forum

Register now to gain access to all of our features. Once registered and logged in, you will be able to contribute to this site by submitting your own content or replying to existing content. You'll be able to customize your profile, receive reputation points as a reward for submitting content, while also communicating with other members via your own private inbox, plus much more! This message will be removed once you have signed in.

Sign in to follow this  
Followers 0
Yeoman C.

"A Dog and a Xenexian Walk Into a Bar"

Corizon glanced at himself in the windows of the ready room, running his hands through his hair he considered his look. His normally straight hair lay unkempt and wavy at either side and gently fell on his shoulders. The black, coarse, calf-length leather jacket was dramatic, but it gave him plenty of places to hide weapons, communicators and a tricorder. A form-fitting top with buckles across the midsection and utility pants with knee-high boots completed the outfit. He thought he looked like a decent enough smuggler... or assassin.


He wondered how long it would take before the door chimed. She was already late.


About five more minutes.


But the willowy Xenexian, as usual, didn't chime before entering, buried in a padd and toting a coffee for the captain. "I have a report from..." She glanced up; she stopped talking. A few blinks, and she gaped. "Um..." It took her more than a few seconds, but she smiled slightly. "That's... impressive, Captain..."


He didn't turn to face her, simply continuing to stare out the window. "Your own outfit is laying on the desk, I pulled your sizes from your file."


"Umm..." She glanced towards the parcel, then back towards the Dameon. "My... outfit?"


"I am going to go scout around myself," he said, still not turning. "And I am sure as hell not going alone. Besides, if you're anything like the other Xenexian I know... well ... I am sure you know your way around the seedier places of the galaxy."


Odile grinned at that. "It comes naturally -- my whole planet is seedy." She traded padd and coffee for the package, unfolding the contents carefully. "What's it look like?"


"Nothing to risque," he finally turned, motioning to the folded clothing. "But you'll have no problem blending in."


"I'll be back," she promised, picking up the clothing and looking it over. He was right -- there was nothing that she could complain about (and it was nothing like the lurid rumors of what the Orion and vampire went over wearing). Dark olive shirt, with loose sleeves (that almost looked like something in Xenexian fashions) with some kind of dark, basic pant that appeared to be some kind of skin, though not leather. She could work with it. "If I'm going seedy, I need my knife, and thanks to a certain captain, it's back in my quarters."


"We'll get it on the way," he said through a smile. "Let's get going."


She nodded, tucking her new clothing under her arm. "So who's the other one?"


They'd already made it into the lift when she'd asked the question and he glanced over to her. "The other one?"


"The other Xenexian. There aren't all that many in Starfleet yet. Maybe with admittance to the Federation..." Odile shrugged.


"Oh," he said slyly as the lift stopped and they headed out to her quarters. "I don't know if you know him or not..."


"Oh." She shrugged. "What province?" She chimed at her door, interestingly enough -- likely remembering some ill incident when she hadn't -- before blundering in.


"Mac Calhoun ring any bells?"


Odile stopped dead -- dead -- in her tracks, and when she finally turned around, her eyes were wide as saucers and she'd gone an ashen shade. "M... M'k'n'zy of Calhoun?" she squeaked out. "The Liberator? The M'k'n'zy of Calhoun?"


"He hates that name you know."


O'd'yl blinked, not able to comprehend. "You know him?"


"We were at the Academy together."


She half-collapsed, slumping against the support of the bunks. "You went to the Academy. With the Liberator. The savior of my people..." The expression she was wearing suggested that Corizon had just been elevated to god-status. "You... you've spoken to him, then..."


"Drank with him on more than one occasion," Corizon smirked, nearly laughing. "Gotten kicked out of more than a few bars, too..."


"Oh my gods..." She suddenly had the urge to bow or do something to show the highest respect possible. "You... I can't even imagine what that had to be like... he's so..."


"So jackassed?"


Odile's jaw dropped. "You... he... what?"


"He's maybe the only bigger jackass in the fleet than me."


"He's... a brilliant man... and so are you!" she added quickly. "I don't think "jackassed" is respectful enough for either of you..." She grabbed the knife and sheath out of her little safe, and re-gathered the clothes. "I'll just be a moment." Changing was half the excuse -- the other was that she felt very light-headed and didn't want to collapse in front of the Dameon. A minute or two later, she re-emerged, strapping on her dagger proudly. "There. First time I've felt properly dressed all day. So have you seen the sword?" she chirped.


Corizon nodded and they headed out the door. Once they were back in the lift again he looked over. "Practiced with it."


"You aren't serious."


The doors opened and they were headed to the airlock. "Yup," he said non-chalantly. "We used to trade swords for practicing."


"I... can't even imagine, Captain. How awe-inspiring..."


"Not really," he said shaking his head as the passed through the air lock and the stench of the station hit them like a wave of photons. "We were both at the academy at the same time, we had a couple classes -- and we might have frequented the same bars. Besides, Shelby thought I'd be a good influence."


"Oh. Her," she answered, wrinkling her nose at the scent -- and only the scent, she assured herself. "I hardly think the Liberator needed anyone to be a 'good influence'. He's about the..." She glanced at some short, stubby alien that looked to be giving her the evil eye and tried not to shudder. "I was saying that he's about the paragon of anything a person should want to be..."


"Hero worship," he said pushing the drunk, blue-purple skinned alien out of his way.


"Well, yes," she admitted, blushing darkly. "So what are we looking for here, anyway?" she asked, managing to tear the subject away from said hero.


"The Orion and the Kitty's teams have found some information," he said as they came to a hall way lined with drunks, merchants, rodents and more drunks. "They've done a good job, but I want to see what I can find out for myself... I have a little more history in these places... although..."


Odile squished a cockroach as they passed with a triumphant stomp, following onwards to try to keep up with him. "Good in the seedy spots yourself?" she prodded, suppressing a grin.


"Yes," he was slightly distant. "...although..."


"Oh, go on," she urged quickly. "I won't share any stories."


"Last time I was in a place like this...."


"You didn't have a Xenexian to watch your tail? I mean... metaphorically..."


"I woke up in a Cardassian cell getting to know their hospitality."


"A..." She peered at him with a horrified expression. "Captain, Sir..." again she was thrown far off, but not exactly in the same, bouncy way as she had been before. "You weren't... I mean they didn't... seek information?" she attempted, tact coming through for once in her life.




"Yes," she answered, her mouth suddenly dry.


"As they defined it," he answered, as if it were a rather normal subject. "No... at least not that time."


"You've been abducted by them... more than once?" she ventured hesitantly.


"I've been a guest of the Obsidian Order and the Dominion twice now," he said, pushing his way into the nearest bar.


"What lives we lead," she murmured, piecing together that "not that time" meant that the "other time", he had... "If I found those who responsible," she said quietly, "I'd rip out their hearts," O'd'yl promised, and from the anger in her eyes, she entirely meant it.


"His name is Gul Mahet... he's running around my head," his voice half-lost as he went to the bar for a drink.


The Xenexian puzzled over the comment, missing any irony of her trailing the Dameon in a puppy-like fashion. For the moment she kept silent -- and didn't order a drink (after all, she was still on duty), rotating between watching Corizon and the rest of the bar.


Corizon had started a discussion with the barkeep, they were, after all, usually the best source of information in any bar, and generally, the only ones not two-sheets from the wind. "So tell me," he said taking a drink of something he could only describe as what he imagined the taste of liquid plasma to be. "If I were looking for something the Auntie has... how would I get there?"


The barkeeper, a four-eyed, six limbed mangle of a thing looked at him rather oddly. "Which Auntie?"


"More than one?" Odile asked, the half-trained sci-enlistee in her taking over. She slipped into the seat next to Corizon, tilting her head as she considered the... thing.


"You two aren't from around here are you?" the bartender asked, and Corizon nodded. "I don't know what the jhamdj is going on," he continued, "but you're about the fifth person to ask where to find an Auntie..."


A deep sigh escaped him and glanced to Odile. "They're already here...I told you we didn't need to stop at that last port... but no... you insisted."


"They..." Odile took about half a second to pick up the banter. "I thought you insisted. You were the one who went off about their tailors." She sighed, eying what Corizon was drinking, and took the plunge. "I need what he has, clearly."


The bartender handed her a drink, nodding his three chins. "So which Auntie do you have bounty to collect from?"


"Wort," she answered, hand gripping her dagger's hilt reflexively as she processed the taste of the alcohol. Just a little less abominable than so-called "sand ale" -- which wasn't saying much.


All four eyes blinked reflexively, then a low, deep chuckle that turned into a full out laugh. "You... are going... hunting for something of hers?"


Odile looked to Corizon and shrugged. "The pay was right..."


"Not all the kadenza in the sector could get me to go into the Thicket... not even for the Crownstone itself and all the money they would pay to have it back."


Something told Corizon to ask the question that was in his head, the bile that passed for a drink told him not too... which was ironic. "So, how do we get there?"


The tender took a drink himself; he wasn't sure anyone this dumb really existed. "Normally I charge for information, but good gods, you've got a deathwish."


"Yes," Odile piped up, smiling a little. "I've heard it before. Now -- spill it."


"Yeah, we've got deathwish covered," Corizon tipped his head towards Odile. "Now, like the woman said, where is it?"

Edited by Yeoman C.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
Sign in to follow this  
Followers 0