Bar Pouncing

[Thau'Shir Mrkath 0]

Thau'shir Mrkath made his way through the streets of the city, garbed in black this night. Combined with his already dark fur he had no trouble slipping in between the small pools of light that spilled sporadically onto the variably paved, narrow paths between roughshod buildings. His sharp eyes spied others using the same tactics already in his first few nights here, so he certainly wasn't going to draw any attention to himself even if he were spotted. Which was his (and the rest of the Comanche Creek crew's) advantage on this mission: a planet with shady operations so widespread if one had the ability to fit in there were fewer obstacles.

 

Another advantage for the Caitian officer was that no one seemed to look twice at one of the felinoid species in such surroundings. It was, to Mrkath, an ironic twist because Cait was a staunch Federation planet with more Caits serving in Starfleet than the more notable Vulcans, even before the Nero incident. The few who chose less reputable activities were far less prevalent than Terrans or even Andorians, yet perhaps it turned into a case of quality over quantity since none of the "bad guys" seemed to mind a Cait playing the game, even an unfamiliar one. In any case, the CAG was patrolling on foot instead of in a fighter this time around, and while he found both the activity and his chosen method distasteful the goal of saving the kidnapped Vulcans made it worthwhile.

 

He slipped into the neighborhood's watering hole, an unnamed and unadvertised pub of the rough and tumble variety. A few females of various species danced on platforms towards the back, none of them seemingly with any enthusiasm and little grace. Their state of dress, or lack thereof, was apparently the draw rather than skill, judging from the drunken and avaricious glances from the male members of the audience near the platforms.

 

Noting that, while occupied, the establishment was far from bustling yet, Mrkath was able to find a table where he could keep his back to the wall and have a good view of the room. He settled in and waited for what passed as service in the joint to come by. After a moment, another bored looking woman, this time thankfully with more clothing on, wandered over.

 

"Andorian ale," Mrkath said. Normally his voice was very smooth in comparison to most Caits, though under these circumstances he allowed the more natural guttural and rumbling nature to come through. He also allowed his accent to thicken. "Out of the bottle," he added, knowing better to trust the quality of their dishwasher, man or machine.

 

While the hard looking woman headed to the bar to fill the order, he sat back and allowed his radar dish ears to take in the room, listening for any conversations of interest. It was no surprise that most Caits ended up serving in security or intelligence, their physical agility, strength, and hearing were well suited to either profession. Obviously not his primary training, however Mrkath had the species advantage to push him to talented amateur status at least, even if he'd much rather be flying, or at this time of night, sleeping.

 

When the server returned with his ale, he pulled out some hard currency, enough to cover the drink and enough of a tip to keep her coming back but not enough for her to be overwhelmed by his generosity, and therefore suspicious.

 

Having checked in prior to making his way to the bar, he was covered for a few hours on that score, so popped open his bottle and prepared to enjoy himself a little while listening in. He figured it would be another hour at least until the ones he was really interested in came in, at least according to the data he'd gathered the night before at another seedy establishment.

 

If he kept frequenting these places he knew that the first thing he would do upon returning to the Creek would be go into decontamination and have Dr. T'aral scan to make sure he didn't pick up any parasites. He was being as cautious as the circumstances allowed, but he'd rather play it safe than sorry. Not to mention anything that could keep him out of his fighter was never a good thing.

 

~

 

A little over an hour later, he looked over to see a pair of bulky Orions with sneering faces walking into the bar. Finally. The unimaginative chatter of the drunken male members of the audience near to the shimmying dancers was beginning to wear on the Cait.

 

The new arrivals looked marginally familiar, and he hoped that they belonged to a few of the faces he'd seen on the intelligence briefing, otherwise the Orion faces were starting to run together after seeing so many on Mos Eisen. Watching the pair settle in at a table about three meters away, his ears swiveled and focused on them.

 

After exchanging surprisingly familiar and kind pleasantries with the same middle-aged woman who'd served him earlier, he listened to them comment on various unimportant matters of female anatomy and sports for a few minutes and began to worry he was wasting his time listen to a couple of locals who came in here every night of the week and had no connection to the Audacious. He stuck with it though, since there was little else to listen to other than wolf-whistles at the moment, and watched them be served a pair of particularly vile looking drinks.

 

Another few minutes of mindless chatter had him nearly changing his mind about staying, however one of the two Orions finally said something to make him focus in and forget his boredom.

 

"Wonder when Captain Morohtar will get this business finished so we can move on again?" asked the taller of the two.

 

"Eishva knows, quality loot this time out but harder to find buyers for, I guess," answered the other.

 

"Huh, well sitting around here isn't getting us paid either," said the first.

 

"You thinking of pulling out after we get our cut, Brother?"

 

"Crossed my mind," the elder responded. "Probably not going to find a more lucrative arrangement on another ship, and Eishva knows I'm not going to work in the planet-side stuff." He took a deep gulp of his drink, then continued. "That was a close call with those Starfleeters though, I almost got smashed when that bulkhead caved."

 

"Shoot, at least you didn't have to pay to get a burn treated Bro," replied the younger.

 

The conversation devolved back into run of the mill topics as the pair of Orion brothers continued to gulp down drinks. Deciding that he wouldn't get much more out of their speech, Mrkath left his table and exited the bar. Finding a spot where he could lurk unnoticed, he leaped up and settled in. He would follow them when they came out and see if they led him anywhere other than a cheap flop.

 

Checking in with his contact, he settled in and waited.

 

~

 

As morning approached Mrkath was on his way back to his own lodgings. As he feared, the two headed not to a location filled with Orions and Vulcan captives but to a run-down building where they apparently shared an apartment during their time on this demented planet.

 

Nonetheless it was a lead, and he marked the location on a map. His partner could take the day shift and keep an eye on the two to see if they did anything useful in leading the Creek team to their goal. They then could continue to split the duty of Orion watching until that happy moment occurred, found something better, or had to return to the ship.

[Crash Calestorm 0]

Nice undercover log from the CAG!