Tough Guy Act

[Crash Calestorm 0]

The following log takes place during the latter hour of our two hour Time Between Sims…

 

Nimbus One Colony Planet

 

The Red Dead Saloon was a bar and grill located in the middle of Bugfrag Nowhere on the outskirts of the main shuttle ground port of Nimbus One, and that was putting it nicely. Like all dives frequented by the dregs of society, the food menu was pretty good, the drinks bracing if a bit watered down, and it was one of the logical places to start looking for any sort of information on the whereabouts of the Were-Wire pirate tribes. The proprietor of the saloon (Red, of course) was a retired pirate who used to run with the Nova Skulls gang. He had built himself up a nice little business in this corner of the galaxy, and had a private security force to make sure that he kept it that way.

 

The system’s three colony planets – Nimbus One, Two and Three, respectively – had been divided up among the volunteer away team officers, and Captain Calestorm and Admiral Shauna Coyote had received a portion of Nimbus One as their assigned patrol area. After being dropped off by the SS Hard Six, the two had wasted no time in going into recon mode, seeking out an appointment with a local contact.

 

Crash and Shauna entered the bar, both of the women exuding confidence as if they belonged there. It had been a spell since the two had worked together on any sort of field mission, though Cale had been pleased to note that the passage of time seemed to have no blatant detrimental effects.

 

The past two weeks had been spent laying the groundwork for both the away teams and those officers serving in detachment stations on board the Hard Six to further the investigation in system while their larger sister ship handled the outer system patrol duties. The ‘Six had also changed out their transponder signal and the transmission now identified them as the Shangri-La, a civilian transport ship making port for refuel and resupply at Nimbus One. The civilian Oberth class vessels were so common, no one would think twice about yet another vessel of the class lurking about the system.

 

The cover story that had been spread around Nimbus One for Coyote and Cale – thanks to the ‘hijacking’ of civilian communications channels courtesy of the ‘Creek COMM and SCI departments – had them playing the parts of would be Were-Wire’s bilked out of a couple thousand credits due to a contract job gone bad, and the two officers had set themselves up as crew working for the Shangri-La. Their clothing was the standard blend of para-military and pirate, boots, merchant marine cut trousers, lots of attitude. Coyote wore a long coat of patchwork leather and cloth, while Calestorm sported a shorter jacket with strips of heavy molded plastic panels set into the cloth as makeshift armor. Brightly colored head and waist scarves and bandannas completed the look.

 

Cale wore an electronic device around her left eye socket with a screen that flipped down in front of her exposed eye as if aiding with targeting – which it did – while Shauna wore an electronic brace on her right hand that had skeletal-like metal extensions covering the back of her hand and fingers, giving the impression that her hand was bolstered by a strength projector. Granted, she’d be able to clock someone pretty good with a right hook.

 

Each of the equipment pieces had been made up to look as if they’d been implanted directly in the skin. Cale’s makeup glue was beginning to itch, and she willed herself not to pick or scratch at the eye socket extension. Personal discomfort aside, the undercover officers looked the part, and hopefully they’d get a lead regarding the Were tribes.

 

The décor of the Red Dead would never win any design prizes, but the place was kept moderately neat and clean. Tables and chairs were scattered throughout the main floor area, the main bar that serviced the establishment was huge, and several pole dances by Deltans and Orions for a mixed species crowd of male and females were ongoing at the far end of the entertainment area. A burly Human bouncer had recognized the new arrivals as the candidates scheduled to meet with his boss that afternoon; he proceeded to wave the two over – with the stock of a plasma rifle, mind you – towards the back office area.

 

The middle aged women complied, moving like two cougars on the hunt towards the offices.

 

Just as they reached the back entry way, the bouncer indicated the energy pistols strapped low on their hips. “Guns need to be checked. No live weapons allowed in the offices.” He spoke in a bored tone and jerked a thumb at an elderly woman seated at a makeshift desk off to one side of the doorway. Several pistols and energy weapons of different makes and models already littered the surface.

 

Shauna smoothly complied with the order with no questions asked, un-holstering and handing her visible weapon over to the older woman as well as a smaller pistol she had concealed in her boot. Cale took the obstinate tact, shaking her head in a ‘No’ gesture and murmuring a ‘Nuh Huh’.

 

On cue, Coyote roughly grabbed Calestorm by the back of the neck and gave her a little shake. “We discussed this earlier. Don’t screw around and turn over your gear. Now.”

 

Without taking her eyes off the bouncer, the captain began to slowly remove her energy pistol from its holster as well as a smaller derringer weapon from an interior holster mounted on the inside of the jacket. Shauna let go of her neck as Cale grudgingly placed her weapons on the desk in front of the woman. Her knife stayed in its usual place, hidden on the back of her waistband and tucked safely up against her back; Laughing Boy didn’t say anything about bladed weapons, now did he?

 

The elderly woman, who was probably in her mid-eighties or so, spoke to Crash in a sweet voice out of context from the frontier surroundings. “Good decision Dear. The last time someone got all hot and bothered about the weapons policy, it took us weeks to get rid of the scorch and pitting marks that got burned into the walls.”

 

Despite the circumstances, Calestorm couldn’t help but give the weapons clerk a crooked smile and a friendly nod of the head. “Ma’am. Wouldn’t dream of causin’ trouble.”

 

Entering the back half of the Red Dead, the two officers noted that the area was partitioned off into several smaller offices and rooms where various business transactions were underway. Upon entering the larger main office, Red sat waiting for them behind a scuffed dark mold plasti-steel desk. His exact age was difficult to determine, though he was a few years younger then the two women. Red was a large man, with an equal amount of muscle and fat. He wore his red hair in a short, vaguely military styled cut, and had a full beard. His intelligent blue eyes held equal amounts of humor, cunning, and ‘don’t you dare screw with me’.

 

It was just as well that the two operatives didn’t intend to screw with Red…much.

 

The office was large enough to accommodate several people, and there was a medium sized sitting area with a patched overstuffed chair and couch set off to one side. A male Orion bodyguard stood next to Red, and a female Orion companion perched on one edge of the desk; the green skinned female eyed the Human females speculatively.

 

“Ladies. I always like it when potential clients arrive on time.” Red’s deep voice held a good natured tone, and he indicated the chairs opposite his desk with a wave of his hand.

 

Coyote sat in a prim pose and crossed her legs at the knee while Calestorm adopted a slouched position, her left arm thrown across the back of her chair while her right draped over the admiral’s nearest shoulder. Shauna’s left hand reached over and began to rub the inside of Crash’s nearest leg. The silver-blond haired woman didn’t react to the touch, instead affecting a bored gaze, directing it around the office area.

 

“Let’s get right down to business, shall we Ladies? You’re looking for information on the Were-Wires. I have it.”

 

Shauna nodded, “I appreciate a straightforward discussion. Our usual negotiating price is two hundred.”

 

The Orion companion spoke up at that, the look in her eyes playful as well as slightly suggestive. The captain couldn’t tell, but she thought the female Orion had ramped up her pheromone count as well judging by a slight facial reaction from the two males in the room. “Two hundred? You two work cheap.” Her tone was amused and sultry.

 

Red ignored the Orion female and continued speaking to Coyote. “Now wait just a minute Lady; your partner-,” He jabbed a finger towards Calestorm, “-told us the price for our information would be three hundred credits.”

 

The admiral had been well aware of the true price offered, as she had been present when Pirate Cale had made the initial contact deal over a secure wireless channel. But, like her partner, she had her role to play; she paused with her groping of Cale’s leg, her expression allowing annoyance to show for the benefit of the conversation. Her high cheekbones became a bit more prominent with the facial tension.

 

“Yes, well. Ashton’s always been a bit of a spender.” Her visible hand again moved to the back of Cale’s neck, clamping there. “I’m sure I can extract the remaining hundred out of her hide.”

 

The two Orions looked…interested at that statement.

 

Years of practice enabled Crash to keep a smile off her face at ‘tough guy’ Coyote. They’d done quite a few variations over the years on the silent partner/dominant partner act.

 

Red shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me as long as you don’t bleed her on my floor.”

 

Calestorm silently flipped Red the finger; he in turn responded with a lewd gesture. The Orion bodyguard and Orion companion both laughed. Leave it to Calestorm…Coyote mentally rolled her eyes at the juvenile humor degrading an already down and dirty situation, but rolled with the punches and worked it into the game plan.

 

The admiral stood from her seated position, stepping easily behind Crash who remained seated. Her hand moved to grip her line captain’s chin in a no nonsense matter. “Again, you’ll have to excuse my partner, and I assure you this sort of miscommunication won’t happen again.”

 

Shauna’s other hand slipped down between the back of the rickety chair and Cale’s back, lifting the fabric of the jacket and stretch material of the under tunic; the overt movements distracted the Orions – who were enjoying the free peep show – from the fact that Coyote was going for Calestorm’s tactical knife hidden in the back waistband of her trousers.

 

Red spoke, his head cocked in a playful manner while his eyes took on a calculating light. “How about we make it an even four hundred.” The statement was not a question.

 

Coyote’s lip lifted from her teeth, exposing her teeth in a silent snarl. “I don’t even know if the information you have is legit or not. You know we can always head over to Nimbus Three and deal with the information brokers there Mister Red. I hear J’onn has been offering discounts…”

 

The name dropping was the direct result of the two weeks the ‘Creek had monitored the local wireless communications lines, and the admiral played the card. J’onn operated a popular bar located in Paradise City on Nimbus Three, and was Red’s chief rival in the information game.

 

“Yeah, you might get better information over at Paradise…” Red neither confirmed nor denied, continuing to hedge the conversation along. He wore a gentle smirk across his features.

 

The knife suddenly whispered out of the holster, and Coyote flung it expertly in one smooth continuous movement. The stainless steel blade embedded itself in a corkboard festooned with handwritten notes and printed out pages hanging on the wall behind Red, the camouflaged patterned hilt quivering slightly from side to side from the blades impact with the object. Calestorm might be the expert in small arms, but Shauna could make bladed weapons – knives in particular – stand up and do a dance.

 

The male Orion casually reached over and plucked the knife from the hanging message board; Red looked somewhere between amused and annoyed at the whole situation. The male guard spoke, his deep voice deadpan. “Nice blade.” He held onto the knife…just in case.

 

Calestorm raised an eyebrow at the personal guard, and like the male Orion, spoke for the first time since the meeting started. “It’s always pulled a bit to the left when thrown.” Her own tone came out deadpan as well.

 

Shauna hadn’t taken her attention off of the bar owner or the vacillating business deal. “Four hundred it is, and I strongly suggest you don’t screw with us any more. Where are the Were-Wires operating?”

 

“Why are you so interested in the Wires?” Red cocked his head to one side.

 

The admiral postured a bit. “What’s your concern?”

 

“I’d just like to know a bit more information before I confirm any sort of location.”

 

Coyote made an impatient growl deep in her throat. “Fine. We need to try and remedy the situation as much as we can before our ships commander finds out about the amount of credits that we…misplaced.”

 

He shrugged, the sliver mesh metallic vest he wore jingling slightly. “They’re potential customers is all. I wouldn’t want to lose the business by being a snitch.”

 

Shauna didn’t relent. “Four hundred credits for information. Take it or leave it Mr. Red.”

 

Red looked Shauna and Calestorm up and down; the two women might be Wire wannabes, but they handled themselves pretty good if not a bit off the wall and he’d certainly dealt with worse. “It’s true, you might find some sort of information on their current operating locations over at Paradise; the Were-Wire clans tend to frequent the Nimbus Three bars.”

 

The captain made a mental note that a couple of the away teams were canvassing the Nimbus Three colony planet; maybe they would turn up an exact location where most of the tribes had last been seen.

 

The information broker continued, shrugging his broad shoulders. “What I can tell you is this: one of the tribes, the Shadows – not a real original name, but hey, what’er you gonna do? – were here in my place the other week. They were throwin’ around quite a bit of credits, and that means they got themselves some sort of backer ‘cause the Shadows are pretty junior among the tribes and aren’t usually that well off.”

 

Cale angled her head to look at Coyote as if what Red had just said made perfect sense. “The Shadows sound like the ones we were supposed to hook up with after we did that job; that Were contact that I spoke to was pretty green.”

 

Red snorted at that statement. “If you want to deal with the Were’s, that’s your business. I’d stay the hell away from them, but that’s just me. If you’re so determined, you’d have to start with the lower tribes such as the Shadows and work your way up to the so called Elite tribes – “

 

Like an elite Were tribe that contracted out to Daystrom, Coyote thought to herself.

 

“– no offense girls, but you’ve got a ways to go; you two don’t strike me as high end.”

 

Crash suddenly bolted out of her chair and tried to fly across the desk at Red. Coyote easily ‘stopped’ her, quickly moving and grabbing at her waistband and jacket collar and hauling her back and giving her a shove away from the desk, before the big Orion male could do anything…rash in response to the perceived attack on his employer.

 

Red laughed, holding his hands in an ‘I surrender’ gesture towards the women. “No offense. Your girl’s a little jumpy there, eh?”

 

Cale backed a few steps away, hands on her hips as she winged a glower towards the stocky bar owner. Shauna split her attention between her hot tempered partner and Red, effectively playing along with the ‘I have a crazy sidekick’ distraction.

 

The Orion female slinked over to the recalcitrant Crash, her movements easy and sexual, pressing her body very close. “You look like you need something to release that tension Hon.” Her murmured tone was geared for relaxation, and she placed one hand on the older woman’s rear end while the other came to rest on her stomach. “That is if your handler lets you.” Her expression had taken on a coy quality, and she ticked her head over towards Coyote.

 

The captain went along with the situation, taking her attention off of Red and giving the younger female a speculative look. She raised an eyebrow and spoke, her tone low and inviting. “My so called handler is of no concern here.”

 

The male Orion bodyguard looked more interested now in what was going on between the silver-blond haired Human woman and his green-skinned female counterpart, but that wasn’t saying much considering the big guy had had the same amount of interest towards the knife incident. Red completely ignored all the various subtexts, keeping his attention solely on Coyote.

 

The admiral, ever the negotiator whether she was in character or out of character, continued the business transaction. “Fine, Mister Red. The credit’s’ll be transferred to an account of your choosing within the next hour.”

 

Which was entirely true: Starfleet Command had forwarded an allotment of digi-credits to the computer systems on the USS Comanche Creek which in turn had been leap frogged over to the Hard Six. If any of the recon teams needed credits for an interaction such as the Red Dead business deal, the credits were on hand and would be transmitted on a secure wireless line from the ship to a desired account; hard currency was handled at the discretion of the field teams.

 

“Good.” Red raised his voice to include the female Orion and her new toy and jabbed a finger towards Calestorm. “Now will you please get her out of here before those two decide to go at it on my desk...”

 

Taking the hint, the captain carefully extricated herself from the amorous girl, walked the few steps back to Red’s desk and shot Shauna a sidelong glance; she leaned over, bracing one hand on the desk and held her other hand palm out towards the Orion guard, the silent gesture asking for her knife back. He easily removed it from a pocket in his vest and dropped it into her hand, hilt first, with a smirk and a wink.

 

Coyote started to speak again. "Well gentlemen and ladies, this has been loads of fun, but my partner and I--" Skipper took advantage of Cale’s slightly bent over position to grab at her rear end, punctuating her parting words with the action, “--should be going."

 

Crash jolted a bit at the contact, but turned the movement into a smooth motion as she stood upright and re-holstered the knife at her waistband, keeping her face unreadable.

 

****

Red waited for a few moments until he was sure the two rag tag mercenary women were out of earshot and it was safe to speak to his associates. He turned his attention to the Orion female.

 

“Anira, contact your mistress. Give her a heads up that I got tapped for information about her current business partners…”

 

****

Their exit from the bar and grill went about as smooth as their entry had; after collecting their weapons, the two officers headed outside to the temporary parking meter where they had left their rented vehicle. Within moments, they had powered up and zoomed away from the Red Dead Saloon, merging with traffic on Highway 18 and heading in the direction of the secondary ground docking ports.

 

Shauna drove the hover car a distance away from the bar, backtracking several times and taking alternate routes. Both officers remained quiet; Coyote constantly checked the rear view mirror while Calestorm checked that they also weren't being followed with a small handheld tracking device. Once they were sure that they weren’t being tailed, a quiet conversation broke the silence.

 

A smirk played at Coyote’s lips. “I thought the parting ass grab was a nice touch, don’t you agree Captain? Your new girlfriend seemed to appreciate it…”

 

“Don’t make me hurt you Admiral.”

[Crash Calestorm 0]

Fair use reference images taken from Memory Alpha.

 

Close up of J'onn and a long shot of the location of Paradise City on Nimbus Three.