"The Delivery"

[Kansas_Jones 0]

Jan. 4, 2006 (2397)

USS Agincourt NCC-81762

“The Delivery”

 

Kansas JoNs stood in the shadows, watching and waiting. She was handling this portion of the plan – meet the new contacts, deliver some Trithium ore, and receive 40 bars of latinum as payment. The latinum would then be used to purchase some quarters and set up their operation as “smugglers”. The Major was currently hunting for suitable accommodations. Then, once established as the new blood in town, hopefully their real targets, the main smuggling ring, rather then these middle class versions, would pay them a little visit.

 

This chosen meeting place was a semi-abandoned storage warehouse on the outskirts of the main Arkanis colony. The warehouse had definitely seen better days; some of the containers and equipment went back at least twenty years.

 

Her feline eyes caught some movement at the far end of the floor. She left the shadows and started for the middle of the warehouse. The anti grav skid containing the ore floated ahead of her as she walked, guided by her right hand. Her left hand rested on the utility pouch containing the liberated Agincourt tranq hypos, secured to her belt webbing. Kansas had stripped the hypos, so that they had an unfinished, non Starfleet appearance. She’d prefer not to get into an altercation, but if necessary would not hesitate to use the hypos as backup. One well placed shot to the jugular and Bam, out for at least twelve hours. Her dk’tang would be the ultimate last resort.

 

She and her associates met and began to appraise one another. Two male humans, a female Andorian, a big male Klingon. They also had a skid with them.

 

The Klingon chuckled as Kansas approached. “They are getting shorter and smaller.” The group laughed among themselves.

 

Kansas lifted an eyebrow and gestured to the uneven numbers. “Are you expecting trouble from me or something?”

 

Keep your mouth on stun. Watch yourself. Stay calm.

 

“And you are?” the taller of the two humans asked her. He sported a skimpy looking mustache.

 

His partners formed a circle around Kansas and Mustache, with the other human closest to her on the right.

 

Hmmmm….

 

“JoNs. And that is all you need to know for right now. And yourself?”

 

“Hanson. That our ore?”

 

“Is that my money?” Kansas responded back, in a matter of fact tone.

 

She caught some movement to her right periphery. She spun, swiftly bringing up a stripped down hypo and pressing it to the neck of the second human. He froze.

 

“I suggest you drop it. Why are your people scanning me Hanson?”

 

Kansas felt panic rising in her gut. The last thing I need is to be scanned. Even with low grade equipment, my DNA signature can be traced to Star fleet.

 

Hanson cleared his throat. “Standard precaution. Just so we know who we are dealing with.”

 

Kansas and the man she held the hypo to were currently in a staring contest. “No scans, or I pump your man full of tranq for twelve hours.”

 

The female Andorian laughed from somewhere behind Kansas. “Tranquilizer? Oh yes. I’d be very scared of the tranquilizer if I were you Wexler.” The group chuckled.

 

Without taking her eyes from Wexler’s face, Kansas stated, “The tranq is really intended as a pain reliever. One swipe either way, and Mr. Wexler can sing soprano for a glee club.”

 

That’s when Wexler, and the group in general, realized that her right hand, claws fully extended, hovered very near Mr. Wexler’s family jewels, as the humans said.

 

Of course, I WON’T really do that to this man, and then they jump me, the job gets botched, and I get the living Hades beat out of me.

 

Please don’t call my bluff. Please don’t call my bluff.

 

“She’s bluffing.” The Klingon spoke up.

 

“NO! She’s not bluffing.” Wexler, who looked downright peaked, let a small tricorder, obviously black market Starfleet, drop to the hard warehouse floor. Kansas kicked it into the shadows and heard a satisfying crash as it impacted with a cargo container.

 

Kansas swiftly lowered the hypo, placing it in a jacket pocket, retracted her claws, and turned to face Hanson once more, arms crossed. Wexler got away from her as quickly as he could. She inwardly sighed with relief.

 

Hanson regarded the Caitian with an expression somewhere between annoyance and surprise. With a disgusted shake of his head, he said, “You upstarts are really something else. You have no class. Let’s get this over with.”

 

I think I was just reprimanded by a smuggler.

 

The exchange took all of five minutes. The skids were exchanged, the ore and latinum amounts checked, everyone was accepting of the terms.

 

After the exchange, Hanson spoke to her. “Oh, and JoNs?” Kansas regarded Hanson. “Yes?”

 

“Coming on hard and fast is fine, and necessary at times. But one day, you’ll do it with the wrong group. In this business, you need to be twenty percent action, but it’s really eighty percent using your brain, and also knowing when to keep a low profile. Don’t forget that. And never threaten one of my people.” He nodded.

 

She registered the movement, but too late, and a hand clamped down on her shoulder.

 

Oh, dear…..

 

The Andorian female spun her around and then backhanded her across the jaw, sending her backpedaling. The Caitian’s balance kicked in, and she didn’t go down. Unfortunately, the Andorians right cross to her jaw complicated matters a bit….

 

….Kansas came to a few minutes later, and the smugglers were already cleared out. The latinum was left, as were all of her possessions, thankfully.

 

Rolling over onto her back, she stared up into the rafters.

 

I was reprimanded by a smuggler. Twice.

 

I don’t think I’ll be telling Major Korix about this little altercation.

 

Lt. M’rrett “I Just Got Tuned Up” JoNs

Tactical Officer

Edited January 6, 2006 by Kansas_Jones