Barhopping ((Matthews/Caine))

[C.T. Caine 0]

The whole place, from the moment they arrived, gave an undefinable impression of darkness. Even areas bathed in all available direct sunlight had a layer of dinginess brushed on like paint against the worn wooden and metallic architecture. The area where Caine and Owen had beamed down was somewhat northerly on the planet, too, and nearing nightfall; as a result, the dinginess was supplemented with an encroaching chill that cut through the dark civilian clothes they were wearing. The waning daylight cast long shadows across the street on which they had landed in relative isolation.

 

"Nice place," Caine commented dryly, checking one last time that her phaser was secure in its holster and the other in her boot was nestled comfortably, and then endeavoring to forget about them until they were needed. It was easy to telegraph the location of one's weapons, which could be a dangerous practice in this sort of place. Then she glanced at Owen and quirked an eyebrow up, deliberately relaxing her body out of its usual stiff posture into a subtle slouch that still kept her balanced on the balls of her feet. "So...nudge the locals until one of them tells us where to find sixteen stolen D'deridexes which are probably more valuable than both our lives. Piece of cake, hm? Shall we get to work?"

 

Owen took in his surroundings. The place actually looked worse than he had thought. But that didn't particularly worry him. He noticed Caine briefly checking her sidearms. Owen didn't need to check. Bearing arms hidden in various places under his clothing was second nature to him. Caine would probably be surprised if he told her he carried three phasers and two knives. One could never be too careful in places like this, especially if you don't know them. "I hope you brought enough of the local currency. I bet we won't get anywhere without buying drinks and bribing the right people. But first of all we should just...euh...socialize and listen. We need information before we start asking questions."

 

Caine smiled. "I'm well-prepared with all the bare necessities, Buddha, don't worry." She cocked her head, focusing her Vulcan hearing on their surroundings, taking in the noise of loud talking and shouts just off to their right. Gesturing, she turned to move down the street in that direction. "So come on...let me buy you a drink."

 

With a grin Owen followed the security chief. "That's an offer I can hardly decline."

 

Five minutes later Owen and Caine were standing at the bar of a rather delapidated but nevertheless crowded establishment. The place smelled of all kinds of body fluids, spilled alcohol and smoke. It was difficult to make out much in the dim light. But most of the patrons didn't seem to worry being overheard. Within a few minutes Owen had picked up the latest local gossip but nothing about an opportunity to buy Romulan ships, yet.

 

Caine's boot heels crunched lightly against the rotting floorboards as she leaned forward on the slick bartop, her expression impassive for the moment. The barkeep, an unshaven Bajoran with one grey eye and one scarred shut, turned towards her without seeming to really see her even from his good side. "Yeah?"

 

"Saurian brandy, straight up," Caine said coolly, "and an Aldebaran whiskey for my friend here." She gestured at Owen, and the barkeeper looked skeptically between the two newcomers. Caine sighed and pulled out a few coins, letting them skitter across the bar, then turned and slouched back against the bar, not even checking to be sure that her drink was being made.

 

As the man shuffled off, Owen half turned and observed the people around them. "I'm not sure this is the right place," he whispered into Caine's ear, leaning forward pretending to inspect something that looked remotely like peanuts.

 

****

 

Three bars and an uncounted number of drinks later Matthews and Caine found themselves in an establishment that was just as dirty and bad smelling as the first. Owen was just about to suggest they go back to the ship when he noticed three men in a dark corner talking frantically and shooting occasional glances in their direction. "Might get interesting, Junior," he told Caine with a nod in the direction of the men.

 

Caine flicked a glance at them peripherally while ordering another round of drinks. "What's their problem?" she murmured. "Haven't blown our cover as Fleet just yet, have we? Or does word of fresh blood just travel fast in these parts?" Picking up the glasses, she turned, handed Owen his, and made her way easily across to a table near the men and sat down, stretching her legs out in front of her.

 

Instead of following her, Owen took a sip of his drink and watched the scene, ready to step in whenever necessary. Caine didn't need him to wiggle information out of reluctant subjects. And in this particular case his presence didn't seem to be needed. Worst case, the guys just thought Caine was out looking for adventure. Best case, they thought they could impress her with an interesting offer.

 

Caine set her glass down and leaned back in her seat, relaxing the last of the Vulcan stiffness out of her behavior. This was not the sort of place where one gained many points by seeming too straight-backed and on-the-level. The change of bearing didn't do anything to decrease her sensory acuity, though, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught the group flashing her another set of furtive glances, before two of them stood up and crossed the distance to her table with a confident sort of air. One, a thuggish fellow with a permanently annoyed expression, remained standing; the other, without so much as a greeting, slid into a chair across from her.

 

Caine gave the seated man -- a sallow mostly-human who seemed to have a little bit of mixed heritage in his bloodline -- a sideways glance and then smiled casually while raising one pointed eyebrow. "Evening." Mentally she was taking in the physical builds of and locations for potential concealed weapons on both of the new arrivals, and she made a subtle gesture without turning towards Owen, indicating that he should stay alert on the man still standing, who she judged to be the brawn rather than the brains of the discussion that was about to take place.

 

The guy shot a quick glance to Owen. When he looked back at Caine he grinned, revealing a row of immaculate teeth. He leaned back in his seat, just like Caine. "We don't see your kind often around here."

 

"I always enjoy providing a bit of variety," Caine answered easily, turning her glass gently on the wood of the table and keeping her eyes locked with his. "I take it you didn't just come over to tell me that, though."

 

The guy's grin grew bigger. "Bright, too," he said with a look at his companion, who gave a bark of laughter and nodded. "It seems to me that you're looking for something. Maybe it's something I can offer...for a reasonable price." At this point he leered at her, his grin never wavering.

 

"Maybe it is, though I prefer those boys who don't need to have a brick wall following them around in order to make a statement," Caine said dryly, unfazed by his expression, gesturing at the broad-shouldered thug still standing next to the table. While the man's behavior meant that he would bear close watching to be sure he didn't try anything too...distracting, she actually could appreciate a certain amount of directness from this kind of affair; it also meant that they now probably had something to work with and would perhaps be saved another crappy bar and more watered-down brandy.

 

She leaned forward, resting both arms on the table, and after a moment's thought to determine the best line of approach, continued casually, "I'm in the ship market. You know anything of the local word?"

 

The guy's grin faltered for the fraction of a second. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the thug and sat up a little straighter. "Ship market, huh? I may have heard something. But my info isn't free. What do you have to offer?"

 

"Enough coin to buy you a better suit, maybe," Caine said crisply, seeing the chink in the man's self-confidence and driving another nail gently into it. She removed a bit of the local currency which she had been able to bring along for drinks and let the coin spin in her fingers.

 

Eyeing the coin the guy seemed to be torn between the prospect of money and the promise of other pleasures. Another look at Caine helped him decide. "How much I'm gonna tell you depends on how much you can pay."

 

Caine let the coin fall heavily onto the table with a thunk, and set one finger down on top of it, holding it to the wood. "Not a poor offer for one question, I think. Suppose there were a large number of ships in this area that weren't, strictly speaking, supposed to be here. Who would know about it and who would be selling?"

Edited February 3, 2010 by C.T. Caine