"Of Dancing and Doom"

[Guest Lieutenant_JG_TParek]

"Of Dancing and Doom, Part One"

Lieutenant j.g. Laarell Teykier

Personal Log

September 28, 23--

 

The curvaceous Orion female zipped the door of her regulation-issue field tent and flopped on the miserable excuse for a sleeping bag. Her back was aching from her work on the dig site, and she was starting to have fantasies of a handsome masseur riding out of the wilderness. Yes, Laarell was a creature of comfort, being raised in the cushiest of embassies, and hot, dirty, archaeological expeditions weren't her cup of Tarkalian tea.

 

It wasn't as if she minded working with antiquities. To the contrary, she enjoyed looking at the relics of past civilizations, and had even made a point of collecting some of the smaller, rarer ones in her own little journey spanning the cosmos. As a child, her stodgy governess would bring the girl into the Federation's finest galleries and museums, having to quite literally drag the diplomats' daughter out at the end of the day. As an adult, she'd sit for hours in her twin brother's curio shop, watching in fascination as he prepared the oddest creative efforts of the Alpha, Beta, and occasionally Gamma quadrant for display in his little boutique on the Ach'Moosh Way. And finally, as a Starfleet cadet, she had visited the ruins of the recently unearthed Sanctuary of Peace on Vulcan.

 

But looking at the nicely preserved mummy of a millennia-old Vulcan priest, and getting blisters on your hands from scraping away millimeter after millimeter of cemented dirt with a sonic archeo-brush are two very distinct things.

 

She looked at the roof of the collapsible domicile around her and sighed. Gods ... they couldn't have made the interior a nice lilac color, at least? And that horrific musty smell from two years of being stuffed into the back of a storage locker was certainly not helping matters any...

 

One might have thought after three days of digging up Surmac pottery shards and wearing a plastered smile for the entirety of it would have left the finicky Orion ready for a good night's sleep.

 

Guess again.

 

After tossing and turning for nearly an hour, the green-skinned scientist finally gave up on the futile attempt at slumber and turned on the illumination device that was marketed for camping trips. After rummaging noisily through her duffel for a few minutes, she finally found the stack of PADD's that she had been looking for. After tossing aside the one that had the epic classical novel War and Peace downloaded onto it, she found the personal data device that had the personal communique from her younger sister. She hadn't had time to read it yet, so she took the opportunity to enjoy the letter from her thirteen-year-old sibling in relative peace and quiet; the only sound being that of a Surmac desert hawk, screeching as it perhaps caught its quarry for the evening.

 

 

Dear Laarell,

 

Hi! What have you been up to lately, big sister?

 

Not much has been happening on Qo'Nos since you last came and visited us. But actually, lots has happened to me!!!

 

Well, you remember that really cute son of the Ferengi ambassador's aide? Well, he actually, like, asked me out the other night! It was soooo totally awesome ... and I kept really really cool like you said and stuff.

 

I think that I would get more dates and stuff if Mummy wouldn't make me use the pheromone suppressant. What do you think? Did you have to use it when you were thirteen? I'm not a little kid or anything!!!!

 

So what's going on with you? Is being in Starfleet hard? Would I like it someday? I don't know... I might want to be a Ferengi ambassador if it means I can be around hott kids like Hertt all the time! He's soo cool.

 

Well, anyway, Mummy and Daddy said that your first ship got like totally blown up. Is that true? If so, that sucks so bad. I'm sorry.

 

Oh wait! There is big news! I don't know what I am thinking!

 

Didja hear that Navaar is going to have a baby? You and I are going to be aunts! It's so cool. I don't know what they're naming it yet, but if I hear I will let you know. Do you think that she's gunna finish getting her degree in astrometrics? I hope so ... she's sooo smart.

 

Well, the main reason why I am sending you this message is to ask you about something that Daddy and Mummy said I should ask you, because they couldn't ever tell me what like happened like you did.

 

Well, when we were looking at some of the old holopix the other night, there was one of you and the Jadeite Star of D'Sjakj. I know that it's a cultural treasure of Orion and all, but what were you doing holding it? And why do you look like you are all tired and grouchy in it? You don't look that old in the picture ... so I should have remembered it, right?

 

OK, well, the butler says that it's time for dinner, and I think that it's going to be gagh!!!!!!! Yummy!!!! So I want to go before it dies in my plate and the blood starts spilling everywhere, that's when it gets all yucky ... lol!

 

Byeee!

Your loving little sister,

Darah

 

Laarell laughed when she had finished the letter, trying to process all of the information that Darah had tried to tell her all at once and attempting to translate from the Orion teenjabber of the day. The youngest of the Teykiers had always had a sweet, unassuming personality that Laarell found refreshing amongst the formality of the Free Trade Embassy on Qo'Nos. Opening a new communications file on the PADD, the Orion decided to respond quickly and set a good example for timeliness for Darah.

 

Dear Darah-Shali,

 

Well, what you heard about the Excalibur was extremely accurate, I'm afraid. The ship did have a bit of a calamitous incident, but I am not certain how much of the information surrounding it is classified and am not going to add in the details, so neither of us will get in trouble with the admirals at Starfleet Headquarters.

 

I think that I do remember your new beau, Hertt. I'm glad that you are making some nice friends amongst the other children, as I remember there weren't as many in Qo'Nos' diplomatic sector when I was your age.

 

Don't be so depressed over the whole pheromone debacle, my dear sister. If it's any consolation, Starfleet insists that I use one, too. And dear, remember that it does have some adverse effects for the other girls ... some sort of offensive mechanism, if I remember biochemistry well enough.

 

Right now, I'm sitting on an M-class world called Surmac, writing this letter and listening to the native fauna screech. I've been working very hard on a dig site, excavating antiquities. I suppose that it sounds like fun to you, but after three days, I have developed some very sore muscles!

 

Please give my best wishes to Navaar and Rashelk when you see them, and congratulate them! I believe that I shall send them a communique soon, and hopefully, I'll be able to see my little niece or nephew before she or he grows up entirely.

 

Laarell paused before continuing. "So you finally got wind of my little encounter with the Star?" she muttered under her breath. "Nice that my parents foisted the storytelling responsibilities off on me. I really will have to talk with them the next time I am in the Qo'Nos area..."

 

She considered one of the age-old cop-outs such as "Perhaps when you are older, Darah" or "It was all a blur to me ... just ask Mummy", but then again, she hadn't told anyone the tale of her brief foray into Orion Intel for some time, and all good stories should be reviewed every now and then to keep them fresh,

 

I suppose that you had to find out about my little covert operations assignment one day, little sister. You always were the curious sort of child, and I never was good at keeping any secrets from you. Even then, if you will recall, we had a bit of trouble covering up the excitement that went on, so if you will search your memories of seven years ago, you might remember a week when our honored parents were on edge.

 

Well, I wasn't more than nineteen years old, when our beloved brother Paarash and I were home for the Jumageraj Festival after being on Vulcan for four years. I was beginning my studies at Starfleet Academy shortly, and just wanted to relax in the comfort of my childhood home before subjecting myself to four years of drill exercises and advanced warp theory...

 

"It's so good to have you home, Laarell," Keirashal Teykier remarked to me, her eldest daughter. "You really should take more breaks -- it's not healthy for a young woman to do nothing but calculus, calculus, calculus."

 

I laughed heartily, knowing how traditional our mother could be at times. "You say that as if mathematics are somehow objectionable. Would you prefer that your eldest daughter be the property of a fat Bolian freighter captain?"

 

If she somehow took offense at my comment offhandedly disparaging the practice of slavery among our kind, she didn't show it. "Only if it's a rich Bolian." Both of us laughed as we retrieved Paarash and my luggage from the rotating transporter platform in the middle of the Qo'Nos transport station.

 

We were home in less than a heartbeat after taking the two transport-relay stations to the embassy. The Orion Free Trade Commission had been on relatively friendly terms with the Klingon government for as long as I could remember, and the comparatively balmy comfort of Qo'Nos was as welcome a change to the aridity of Vulcan as I could dream of.

 

What sweet memories Qo'Nos evokes for me. I can't think of any other planet as home, really. From the sensuous smell of lightly steamed gagh to the famed Klingon body odor, I can't think of any place more pleasant.

 

After Paarash and I unpacked and washed away the sweat and dirt from the trip, we dressed for a scrumptious banquet in our honor, held in the formal banquet hall.

 

Ask Mummy if Karshan is still on the Embassy staff. If she doesn't recognize the name, remind her that she was my serving girl, confidante, and coconspirator in adventure since I was in the cradle. And if Karshan is still there, see if she'd be willing to arrange your hair in one of those exotic hairstyles that she used to do for me.

 

"Are you pleased, M'Lady?" Karshan held the mirror at the side of my face, allowing me to see the intricate style that she had worked my hair into. Although it looked vaguely like something out of the old Star Wars movies that I had seen on the holo-vids, I was pleased nonetheless, and told the girl so. Before I had left for the Shi'Kahr Academy, Darah, the formal events that seems to go on until all hours of the morning had begun to bore me. But after being among the snooty Vulcans with their raised eyebrows and disapproving stares, I was rather pleased to be treated like a 'very important person' once again. After all, as I am certain you are aware, it's not every woman who is the daughter of Orion's most respected ambassador, and I had even more visibility as the eldest of the three daughters.

 

Most of the high-ranking diplomats that our father had dealings with were dining with us that evening, and the main items of conversation dealt with the trade agreements between the Triskelion Trade Commission and the Ekosian Syndicate. I listened with great interest, for less than two years ago, the Thralls and Ekosians were constantly having skirmishes along their respective trade routes.

 

A little after 01:00, Navaar retired for the evening, and I would have done the same if the discussions hadn't interested me so. Even so, I was beginning to feel rather exhausted, and my ears were beginning to hurt from the raucous laughter of the drunken men. I contented myself with a bit of diluted bloodwine, preferring to keep my wits about me.

 

It couldn't have been earlier than 03:00 when I finally left the grand banquet hall. As I exited the room, Mre'tish, my father's chief advisor, also exited the dining area and motioned for me to follow. I complied, rather tired and even more confused.

 

"I understand that you begin your Starfleet training shortly," he stated, making more of an observation that actually asking a question. I nodded slowly, gauging his direction.

 

"I leave for Earth on a Tellarite transport as soon as the festival ends."

 

His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized me. "You going into a Science field, I assume." I nodded again.

 

"Is there a point to this inquiry? The hour grows late, and I fear that I would be at the height of my manners after a night of sleep," I commented, hoping that he would ether excuse himself from my presence, or get to the point.

 

"Seeing that you are in no mood for pleasantries, Ms. Teykier, I shall then go to the heart of the matter. Would you have any interest in a covert operations assignment for the Orion government?"

 

Four years on Vulcan, dearest Darah, makes one slowly adopt some of the customs of that great people.

 

"Indeed." I raised my right eyebrow, mimicking what I had seen so many of the pointed-ears do. "And what, precisely, would this operation entail?"

 

"A safe assignment, Ms. Teykier. No danger to you whatsoever." He sighed, and looked around the deserted hallway, confirming that no curious ears were attuned to our every word. "Have you ever heard of the Star of D'Sjakj?"

 

I bowed my head respectfully at the mere mention of the sacred artifact. "When the goddess Tal'yier sent her heavenly blessings to the people of Orion, the blessings all left the holy orb, leaving the perfect jadeite star behind." He laughed at my perfect recitation of the ancient writings. "After the Orion people located the treasure in the excavated city of Ra'eyn, it was placed in the Royal Museum of Antiquities. What schoolchild doesn't know the story?" I asked rhetorically.

 

He chuckled again. "So true, M'Lady. But what every schoolchild doesn't know, is that the Star currently on display at the Royal Museum, is a replica... a fraud." He pulled a holopic out of a hidden pocket. "Here's a photograph of the original." I took it and studied it, frowning at the poor picture. "It's been under heavy lock ad key in a secure location since its discovery."

 

"What does all this have to do with me?" I asked. It was a (if you can bear to hear the term) logical question, and as much as I enjoyed hearing about the Orion government's conspiracy to keep the artifact hidden from our people, (most likely a wise precaution, given the treacherous nature of some of our kind) I was no less exhausted then when I left the banquet hall.

 

He looked at me for a moment, perhaps attempting to decide whether or not to go through with whatever harebrained scheme he wanted me to get involved with. "Two weeks ago, a notorious band of smugglers broke into the military installation possessing the Star of D'Sjakj, and made off with it. Rumor has it that they're meeting a potential buyer late tomorrow night."

 

"Your involvement with this will be simple, and of no danger to you. They're meeting the buyer at a pub in the capital city here. Your job will be to watch for the smugglers and their client, use some special equipment to film them, and do it all without being spotted. Think you're up to it?"

 

I shrugged. "I'm a Starfleet cadet. I can handle anything that life throws at me."

 

He grinned widely and silently applauded. "That's the spirit, Teykier. Well, I can see that you're really going to be a tremendous help to the Orion people." He dropped his already-quiet voice to a whisper and added a side note. "There's just one other thing, Laarell. I don't want to worry your father about this whole incident, so if you could..."

 

"Keep it quiet? Zip my lips?" I suggested, and he nodded. "Don't worry. I will. If it were up to my father, I'd never be let out of his sight ... His sight and that of a squadron of guards." I chuckled at my own vision of that. "And if you don't mind, I have a quick question to ask you."

 

He looked interested. "Anything."

 

"Why me? Doesn't the government have enough spies to keep an eye on the bad guys? Why do you need an inexperienced Starfleet officer handling your investigations?"

 

He shook his head sadly. "The smuggling gang knows our agents. They're going to be watching their backs at every turn, double-checking that they aren't being followed. They see an agent of ours, and we'd be in trouble."

 

I nodded, seeing the (oh dear...) logic in what he said. "No sweat, boss. I'll have it all done for you ... no problem."

 

He handed me a data PADD. "This will have all of the information that you need, as well as the location where you can pick up your equipment, Teykier." He scratched his head, obviously trying to remember some little detail that he had forgotten. "That should be it. Good luck, Agent. You're most likely not going to need it, but in case you do, it's there for you."

 

As he walked off into the darkness of the embassy, I wondered exactly what I was getting myself into...

 

Considering that I am this far into the story, I suppose I shouldn't interrupt myself, but I wanted to add a quick interjection, Darah. First of all, I don't want you getting any crazy ideas from what I did, nor do I want you discussing this with anyone outside of the family. If word of this got back to Starfleet, I fear that the tale would follow me from posting to posting for the rest of my career, which would be, to say the least, very bad. So read onward, and just like I did, 'zip your lips'...

 

"It's too risky, M'Lady," Karshan discouraged. "Not to say inappropriate for a woman of your high standing."

 

I grinned devilishly. The sun of the Klingon homeworld was setting, as it was late afternoon. According to the PADD that I had been given, the smugglers were meeting at 22:00. "It's only for one night, Karshan dear. I'm not making it a permanent profession."

 

"If your father knew, he'd kill you."

 

"If my father knew, we wouldn't even be discussing the notion."

 

"Isn't there another disguise that you could try?"

 

I shook my head. "If they see an Orion anywhere else, they might get suspicious." I laughed. "I'll just be getting back to my 'wild' roots."

 

"You're not reassuring me," Karshan replied, crossing her arms.

 

"I've always been the perfect young lady, using the correct utensils at the table ... visiting the proper museums ... attending the formal functions. Dancing at a pub for one night isn't going to corrupt all that I've been taught."

 

She rolled her eyes, and contorted her facial features into a look of utter disgust. "Laarell, if you want to do this, I'm not going to stop you." She looked down, and when her gaze met mine again, there was a mischievous gleam in her eye. "But at least let me help with the transformation from proper young woman to wild creature..."

 

Two hours later, Karshan finished her handiwork. I almost shrieked when I saw my reflection in the mirror, but my expression of shock quickly turned to one of demonic glee.

 

My hair was let loose from its customary neat braid, reaching down to my waist in wild freedom, and I couldn't remember a time when I had worn makeup as dark in coloration. My fingernails, usually given a light, clear glaze, were filed to wicked-looking points and painted a deep black. A temporary tattoo resembling an ownership mark surrounded my left arm. But the most stunningly appalling change in my appearance was my attire, or rather, the lack of it.

 

The garment that Karshan had dredged up from one of her most dubious sources couldn't be called much more than a few strips of fabric conveniently arranged as to reveal as much as possible, and accentuate that which it hid.

 

I laughed again at the reflection of something that surely couldn't be the real me, and turned. I was half-frightened that the 'thing' that was acting as clothing would fall apart as I moved, but whoever had made it had done their job well.

 

"Nice work, Karshan," I commented, turning 'round to get the full effect.

 

"Thank you, M'Lady," she said with a small curtsy. She turned to the tray beside me, and picked up the final implement that would make my radical change from formality to ferality complete.

 

I pushed away the hypospray, confused as to why it was necessary. "Why the hypospray, Karshan?"

 

She laughed. "It's a pheromone suppressant neutralizer. No dancer is complete without it." I let her push the cold metal into my neck, and sighed.

 

"Was that really necessary?" I asked, teasing her more than anything.

 

She gave me a playful look. "You wanted to be a wild animal, didn't you? Wild animals don't use pheromone suppressant." She sighed. "Do be careful, Laarell. The Academy needs young women like you - don't let yourself get killed before you can go."

 

It was a relatively easy challenge to sneak out of the embassy. When you've lived somewhere for your entire life, you're the one who knows all of the guards' routines, the little crevasses in the wall where you can avoid detection, and the codes to disarm the security systems. Maybe our dear father Shordal shouldn't have told his eldest daughter the password...

 

Anyway, I arrived at the Q'r'qsh' Pub, and followed the PADD's directions telling me to go in the back entrance. Apparently, the Orion government had sufficiently bribed the pub's owner to go along with the proceedings, for after he sized me up with a leacherous grin, he turned back to his work counting the afternoon's latinum and left me alone.

 

I sat there, behind the curtain, waiting for the appropriate time to make my entrance into the spotlight. The closer that 'zero hour' loomed, the more nervous I became. What on Earth was I actually doing here? Was I out of my mind? I wasn't even receiving any compensation for my services to Orion! I might have been raised on the homeworld of the Klingon Empire, but I didn't work for honor.

 

I glanced at the chronometer on the wall. 21:34. The smugglers were meeting their surely infamous client in twenty-six minutes. I fingered the microcamera that was fitted onto my little finger. Quite simple, actually. Point, flex the finger, and shoot. I could have used one of those babies for my own personal use ... my impromptu-photography skills would have been greatly enhanced. And think of the espionage purposes... I can see the sign on the office door now... Laarell Teykier - Freelance Espionage. No cash? No service.

 

I sighed, peering out from behind the voluminous curtain. The bar was filled with the shadiest of people, and I suddenly felt more uncomfortable than I had since the idea of posing as an exotic dancer first entered my brain.

 

It was far, far too late to turn back at that point, so I stepped out onto the shabby-looking stage, and gazed into the audience. I didn't see anyone that looked like an Orion smuggler at that point, but I kept my eyes open. I will admit, however, thatI'd never been as grateful for the 'lyrical dance' training that my governess had insisted that all 'cultured young ladies' should have a feel for.

 

The next ten minutes were, in all honesty, a blur, filled with listening to the beat of the percussion-filled music that the ensemble was performing. About the time that I thought that Mre'tish had made a mistake in which pub was the one of interest, three hulking Orion males entered the establishment and took a table near the back of the seating area.

 

Even from half a room away I could smell trouble, and it didn't take a bachelor's degree in astrophysics to tell me that I had located the smugglers. I gave a huge smile to the newcomers and blew them a kiss ... at the same time as I engaged the microcamera.

 

About five minutes later, the door to the dark, smoke-filled place opened again, and the heads that could tear themselves away from the sight of the Orion dancer (i.e., me, Darah) turned to regard the newcomer. All conversation ended, and even the musicians became quiet. Whoever had just entered the Pub had as bad of a reputation as was possible.

 

Silhouetted in the doorway, I couldn't make out of any of his features. He was looking around as if looking for something, or someone. Could this have been the client of the smugglers? I didn't doubt it for an instant.

 

Sure enough, the stranger walked over to the table occupied by the three Orions, took a seat, and grabbed a drink off a tray carried by the Klingon bartender. Slowly, conversations and the music restarted, giving me an opportunity to resume my dancing, and my 'spying.'

 

Mercifully, the music ended less than a minute later, giving me a well-deserved break from the leering of the men. As I took a bow, I saw the Orions motion me over to their table.

 

I froze.

 

They said that there wouldn't be any danger in it for me. I can't think of going over there as anything but dangerous.

 

Keeping the broad, faux, smile on my lips, I slid off of the stage and walked over to their table. If nothing else, it would give me the chance to get a good shot of the Star's illegal buyer.

 

They certainly looked like smugglers. Unshaven, unkempt, in clothes that were a little too expensive for the way that they looked. I smoothed a stray strand of hair behind my ear and took the seat that they offered me.

 

"Your dancing is exquisite, girl. What is your name?"

 

My name? They want my name? Why do they want my name? You can't tell them the truth!

 

"My name is Laarell, fine sir." I kept the charming, slightly shy smile on my face.

 

Why did you tell them that? Why? Are you out of your Orion mind?

 

I took my first good look at the newcomer. He looked as scraggly as the others, but there was an intelligence in his eyes that somewhat unnerved me as he stared at me, almost as if he could see through me.

 

I didn't recognize his species; he looked vaguely human, with blazing purple eyes and a hideous scar that ran down the right side of his face.

 

"Laarell! What a charming name." The fattest of the three stooges leered at me, and I smiled even wider. "It's attractive, just like you. What brings a pretty little thing like you to Qo'Nos?"

 

Gods ... do they suspect something?

 

I shrugged. "I go where the work takes me." I finally tore my gaze from that of the non-Orion and looked the bulkiest of the males straight in the eye. "And only where the work takes me," I said, placing special emphasis on the second word.

 

The short, stout little Orion laughed nasally as he turned to the largest, who I took to be their leader. "We should take this one along. Should provide a little entertainment for the bunch of us after we go to Risa and celebrate. As the other Orions laughed, I did too, acting as if it were all too, too, funny. Inside, I was panicking.

 

"I stay with the bar, boys. You'll just have to come back and visit me, sometime." I grinned as sweetly as I could. But something in the eyes of the largest told me that I wasn't going to wiggle off of the proverbial hook here.

 

The last thing that I remember before blacking out was the scarred client of the Orions delivering a strong blow to my jaw, and the annoying laughter of the short Orion...

 

If luck hadn't been on my side, little sister, I most likely wouldn't be here on Surmac writing a letter to you right now. Things would have all gone according to plan if the Orions hadn't taken a shine to the entertainment. I guess I pulled off my ploy a little too convincingly...

 

I awoke with a pounding headache and a large bruise on my jaw. I felt rather lucky to be alive, until I realized that I wasn't safely rooted to the ground of Qo'Nos anymore.

 

I looked around what I deduced to be some sort of a cell, and instantly started kicking myself once again for taking on the bloody assignment. We were orbiting the planet still, so hopefully I'd have a chance at accessing the transporter before the purple-eyed goon paid up and shipped out.

 

No danger? I inwardly laughed. Who was he kidding?

 

I rose from the cot and looked around the room. It certainly looked nice for quarters, and it didn't have the detestable odor that I would have suspected. To my largest surprise was a clean, one-piece jumpsuit that hung neatly on a hook on the wall. Considering the fact that I was wearing a three-strip gold 'thing', I wasn't going to be choosy about what I was going to be wearing for gods knew how long.

 

I slipped on the khaki jumpsuit and remained as perplexed as ever. What kind of illicit smuggler would have a cargo ship as nice as this - or let his new Orion slave girl change into a rather dull-looking, unrevealing garment? To my further shock, when I absent-mindedly attempted to bust open the door, it was unlocked, with no hidden forcefield mechanisms.

 

Directly in front of me was the 'bridge' of the ship, if such a small vessel can actually be considered to have a bridge. Perhaps I should merely call it 'the control room.' The only thing that hadn't surprised me so far was the operator of this 'control room' was the purple-eyed man from the nightclub.

 

He didn't even look up at me as I entered. "You're awake." He took a quick glance at me before turning to a blinking panel. "Glad to see that you found the attire. It certainly is more becoming than that trash you were wearing when you came aboard."

 

I stood there, gaping at him for several seconds before responding. "Who are you?" I wasn't being rhetorical, it was just that I was so utterly dumbfounded that I couldn't think of anything else to say.

 

He didn't even bother to answer my question. "Starfleet had everything worked out so that your precious jadeite artifact would be returned to you safely. The Orion government didn't need to get involved. They knew that. Who gave you the orders to attempt that brilliant operation?"

 

I couldn't remember hearing anyone use that much sarcasm before. "What makes you think I'll tell you anything? You were the one who knocked me out down on the planet. You think I'll trust you?"

 

He smirked, and I walked around him. That scar looked hideous, and if this guy was Starfleet, I would think that it would be removed.

 

"Consider me a friend."

 

I chuckled at that. "Is that supposed to reassure me of something?"

 

"Not necessarily. But it's the truth, because if it wasn't for my punching you and therefore 'claiming' you as my property, not the three morons', you'd be in the cargo hold of those thieves' ship. I'd count your blessings if I were you."

 

"I'm certain that you're such a wonderful alternative to them," I commented drily, hoping that my sarcasm matched that of his earlier. "I think that it's time you officially introduced yourself."

 

"I'm on a bit of a covert ops mission myself, working for Starfleet Intel at the moment." He paused. "And, I'm a friend." A beeping console grabbed his attention. "Looks like we have company, Cadet Teykier."

 

I'm not certain which made my mouth drop: The use of my rank and last name, or the sight of an Orion Free Trade cruiser.

 

Another panel beeped.

 

"Are you going to get that, Laarell? It certainly isn't for me." He sat back with his arms crossed, and looked a bit too smug for my taste. Nonetheless, I answered the audio-only hail.

 

"Unidentified cargo vessel, please respond. We picked up a transponder signal from your ship matching that of a missing person. Submit yourselves for inspection." Shordal Teykier's voice sounded rather ragged and worried, and I didn't blame him.

 

I shrugged as I pushed the blinking button. "Cargo vessel responding to your hail. Feel free to come aboard and retrieve your 'missing person'."

 

You could have hear a pin drop on the other end. "Laarell... ? Is that you, dear?"

 

I sighed. "Sure is. And I'm ready to go home. I've had a wild enough night to last me for quite awhile."

 

After the communications channel was closed, I turned to the man who was watching my every move and gave him a rather lopsided grin as I waited for the much-larger Orion ship to dock. "Thanks for getting me out of there, Intel boy. If we ever meet again, I owe you one."

 

That smug smirk never left his face. "You do indeed, Laarell." He turned and released a secret latch under the deck plating, revealing a small, finely wrapped package. "Return this to the proper authorities, will you?"

 

As it's nearly 03:30 here on Surmac, I am going to abbreviate the rest of the tale.

 

Yes, inside that package was the Jadeite Star of D'Sjakj. After me and the package were returned to Qo'Nos, the Starfleet Intel operative left in his little cargo ship, most likely pleased to be rid of the whole mess.

 

Father and Mummy didn't scold me very much at all. After all, I was nineteen-year-old Starfleet cadet, not a child.

 

Wonder where the subdermal transponder came from that allowed the Orion ship to track me?

 

Good ole' Karshan had that implanted when she used the hypospray on me. I'll bet that she got it from the same place as the dancing costume.

 

And me? I spent the next three days on the Orion homeworld, dear sister, being entertained by Her Royal Highness Queen Hav'traa, who was so thrilled by the recovery of the Star, that she left a plaque in the museum, retelling the tale of my 'heroics'.

 

A week later, I caught my Tellarite freighter to San Francisco and started my Starfleet training. When I was there, I attempted to trace that operative, and find out who it was. I later found out, based on my description of his eye color, that he was most likely 'Xenexian', but nothing beyond that. I suppose that it will remain a bit of a personal mystery to me.

 

Well, I hope to hear from you again soon, Darah, and I hope that you have enjoyed the tale. And yes, I did look rather bruised in that holopic, didn't I?

 

I remain,

 

Your loving sister,

Laarell Elai Teykier

 

The Orion turned of the PADD and closed her eyes briefly. The excavation team was assembling in less than two hours, so she wanted to catch what little sleep she could in the time remaining to her.

 

Interestingly enough, she fell asleep almost immediately, and had pleasant dreams of days long past.

 

END LOG