Cold Shoulders, Dead Ends...

Posted on Mon Feb 21st, 2011 @ 4:36pm by Captain Nathan Cowell MD & Darek Halsey & Lieutenant Colonel Anastasia DeVries & Lieutenant Serran & Lieutenant Xylia Lischka & Lieutenant Three of Seven

Mission: Hippocratic Hijacking
Location: Various
Timeline: Immediately following 'Ready, Set, Infiltrate!'

"Cowell to DeVries, I paved the way. Don't expect the welcome wagon, but you can at least move about freely. Oh, and if you see something you like, put it on the tab," Nathan said after hitting the small comm command key on his arm rest.

Stace considered momentarily just what 'something you like' technically covered... but decided it was best to not ask such things in order to claim immunity at a later date. Besides, she assumed things would be more fun this way. "I never expect the welcome wagon... but thanks for the heads up. We'll be in touch."

Turning her attention towards the gathered members of her team, she motioned for them to step forward and take their respective places on the transporter pad. It was time to get to work. "Alright gang... let's boogie... and boogie hard."

The Orion administrator that Captain Cowell has spoken to had made it a point to be on hand for the Away Team's arrival to the station. He was anxious to meet the people who would likely be earning him a handsome 'commission' before it was all over. He had with him several Nausicaan bodyguards, each of them heavily armed and eager to inflict any number of horrid tortures on anyone their Orion Master designated. When the crew began to materialize, Temlar straightened to his full height and watched as their matter stream took solid form.

"Greetings," he said with his most vile of grins, "Welcome to Sutekh Station. Your Captain has told me that you are in search of items for purchase. I will be happy to point you in whatever direction is required to aid your requisition."

The woman eyed the man before her with obvious distaste but somehow managed to withhold her current thoughts about her first impression of their 'tour guide'. "My Captain talks too much... but that is neither here nor there. If it's agreeable with you, however, I wouldn't mind your company while the rest of my people do a little sight seeing on their own."

"That is perfectly acceptable. Would you like a moment to decide who will be joining us?" the Orion asked.

Stace thought for a moment before shaking her head, "On second though, I think we'll just all stay together. Lead the way toward where you keep the medicinal type items."

"As you wish," the Orion said with a bow.

The Orion motioned to his guards and headed toward a large corridor that took the entire group into a large open section that contained hundreds of stalls. His arm swept out toward the left wall.

"Many of the stalls on that side deal in medicinal items. I've already let them all know their expenses will be covered, so feel free to engage them in conversations about their wares. I would caution you against asking them where they get things, however. Most of them take that as an insult. No need for useless violence..." their guide said.

"Not all violence is useless..." Darek muttered under his breath, "Major do we know if any of the stolen items were tagged some how? For reference or such?"

"I'm sure they do, most rare drugs have a security code embedded in the crates and containers for tracking. Call up the manifest from the originating station and see if they included that information. You'll probably have to scan things on the sly though, I don't think they'll like us snooping in front of them," DeVries answered when the Orion was out of earshot.

Shaking his head Darek pointed to his collar, "Remember what I do for a living Major.... Now do we divide and conquer or do we all hit each and every stall?" He finished as he toyed with the weapon on his thigh.

Xylia glanced between Stace and Darek. "It might be better to divide and conquer. Harder for them to keep an eye on all of us that way."

"Now that's the best idea I've heard all day!" Darek mused, "I'll take the left side, you guys get the right?"

Susan was glad this mission was being done in uniform, in her mind it greatly reduced the risks. "If we see something suspicious, I could haggle with the vendor over price giving some one else the chance to take scans."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," Xylia stated, glancing around to those present, "Having someone distract them would make things that much easier."

"Then we tag team, some one haggles, the other scans. We find something, we 'buy', we don't, we move on," he said.

"Good, you all seem to have this under control. Let's get things going," Stace said with a smile.

"Who wants to go with me!?" Darek said with a half assed grin and irritating glee.

"I'll go." Xylia stated.

=Team One=

"Fantastic, you haggle. I'll glare." he chuckled.

"If that's the way you'd like it, but I have to be honest. I prefer useless violence over speaking skills." Xylia said rather nonchalantly.

"And that's why I carry this!" Darek replied quickly removing the particle magnum from its holster spinning it on his finger and then replacing it. "Let's get this done with before I decide to start some useless violence."

"I think you and I will get along just fine. Lead the way, and I'll do what I can to cause the needed distraction," She gestured down to her more than ample chest.

Darek made no comment but chuckled as he followed Xylia towards their first target, "If I find something that's ours, I'll cough or something."

"Okay. You do your thing, and I'll do mine." She broke away from Darek and made her way toward the guard.

The Nausicaan looked down at Lt. Lischka and folded his arms across his chest, "What, human?"

Xylia fought against rolling her eyes. This was certainly going to be pleasant, and she had to remember... It wouldn't do to cause a fight, so her best behavior was necessary. "I actually prefer to be called Xylia, thanks."

"I don't care..." he said gruffly.

Darek hung back watching the show between Xylia and the Nausicaan, and from the looks of things that whole useless violence might be starting sooner than expected.

Xylia took a deep breath. Not only was he tall, but he was rather ugly as well, so that ruled out using her assets to get what she wanted. The thought made her shudder internally. "And here I was hoping for pleasant conversation."

"You either buy things or move along. I don't talk to people who don't pay..." came the sardonic reply.

"That's what we're here for. So, what's say you and I discuss that while he looks through it?" She stated, nodding her head in Darek's direction.

"What do you want to discuss? My prices are firm, I do not negotiate them. All you will get is maybe a quantity..." the Nausicaan growled.

Xylia glanced in Darek's direction. She was finding it hard to keep her cool at the moment, so she was hoping he would start his search and cough soon before the big and nasty mopped the floor with her much smaller frame. After a woosah moment, she turned back to the guard.

"So, no negotiating? That's really not what I wanted to hear, but then, what can I really do about it?"

Of course, what she really wanted to do was make an attempt to mop the floor with him. Fat chance of that happening.

Darek nodded for Xylia to begin looking through everything tricorder didnt even beep as Xylia went through the man's wares. "Nothing..." He said sighing.

=Team Two=

"Well, Miss Linguist, you're supposed to be some kind of talker. Put your skills to work," the Major said, moving closer to Susan.

"Aye Ma'am. Guess being an ambassador's kid is about to pay off." Susan followed the Major as they headed towards a row of booths.

The first vendor they approached was a Ferengi with a wicked looking tooth problem. The wares displayed were enough like what they were looking for that it gave them a reason to stop. Stace walked off toward the side of the booth and started taking scans while Susan did the talking.

Unsure of what items they were looking for, Susan picked out what appeared to be some sort of medical field kit. As she picked it up, she inquired of the price. "How much are you asking for this?"

"Three strips," the Ferengi said eagerly. Stace, however, shook her head in a negative manner.

"Three strips!" Susan feigned shock at the price.

"This kit was phased out several years ago. I'll give you 2 strips of latinum for it."

"Absolutely not... it is hard enough to get these, I won't give up a profit even if you are a good looking clothed female..." the Ferengi sneered.

Coming from a Ferengi, that was most likely a compliment.

"They made hundereds of these each month during the War. I'll throw in 20 slips but no more. Afterall, Rule of Acquistion #3 states, Never spend more for an acquisition than you have to."

Susan was glad for having written a paper on the Ferengi her second year at the Academy.

The Ferengi thought it over for a moment before shaking his head, "No, I will not sacrifice profits, even if you do know something of Acquisitions..."

Stace finally interrupted, "Don't worry about it, my large eared friend. We will just go look elsewhere for the supplies we need. Thank you for the time."

After they had made it far enough away, Maj. DeVries turned to her, "That was a bust..."

"It's probably for the best. His price was too high anyway. What are we looking for anyway?" Susan responded once they were out of earshot.

"Some pretty rare drugs and medical supplies. Things that don't just come in a regular med kit. I'm getting the feeling that these people aren't going to just have it out for us to find..." Stace said in disappointment as they continued further down the compartment.

=The Doctor's Perspective=

In the vicinity, Serran had wandered off to another booth on his own. The medical supplies were splayed out on a table somewhat haphazardly as the Vulcan passed trained and experienced eyes over the wares. As he glanced, he pulled his medical tricorder from its holster and started scanning the items on the table. There was a Tellarite merchant behind the table who had been, almost surprisingly, quiet before Serran had arrived but decided to speak up upon seeing the Vulcan scanning his things.

"No scanning allowed!" the merchant bellowed.

"There is no signage or verbiage indicating the prohibition of scanning equipment in determining the quality of the materials you are selling," Serran stated but put his tricorder away regardless. He'd managed to scan what he needed and his tricorder had come up negative in its search.

"My booth, my rules, Vulcan," the Tellarite snorted. "You either need the stuff I got or you don't. If you don't, then I strongly recommend you move along, Starfleet."

"I do not...'need your stuff', merchant," Serran clasped his hands behind his back. "In my estimation, your wares are outdated, inferior and sub-standard to most common medical supplies that can be freely obtained at some institutions."

"Then why don't you go to your precious institutions, you lout, and get out of my face," the Tellarite threatened. "You're scaring away my customers!"

Serran was about the respond to the Tellarite's inaccurate statement about scaring away his customers, but decided on discretion as starting an argument with a Tellarite would merely take up too much precious time. The Vulcan nodded in acquiescence and moved off to find the Major.

=The Operations Officer's Perspective=

Subterfuge was not a function of the Collective, but the concept seemed prudent in application to the situation in which Three now found itself. Judging by the reactions that the drone had witnessed from glimpses of the other teams, overt actions would be met with inefficient results. However indirect investigation was also inefficient. A thoroughly confusing situation, one which seemed wasteful no matter what productivity could derive from it. Such was the mentality with which Three approached its task, surveying shops as the drone's eyes carefully took measure of the items in search of containers which might meet the specifications of the missing medical supplies.

This approach seemed inherently flawed. While Three had been a probe by design, its function was now as an engineer. Investigations of a forensic nature were not in Three's library. However there were some uncommon elements which composed the casing and storage of the medical supplies, making that a possibility to explore. Approaching the next shopkeeper, the drone very bluntly said, "I am interested in a quantity of medical-quality magnesite. Do you have such an alloy in your inventory?"

"No... try further along..." the merchant responded, "The Vulcan down there in the bar might have what you need. He made a comment about a cache of rare materials."

Three had anticipated the man would not have what the Borg was looking for, but by his calculations the most likely scenario had been for the salesman to try and pitch an alternative among his wares. To instead be pointed in what Terrans would no doubt term the 'right direction' was unexpected kindness. "Thank you," the Borg intoned politely, before turning and moving down toward the bar. It was possible that Three was pursuing an untamed ornithoid without a cause, but it didn't seem reasonable to hold the information to himself.

"Three of Seven to Major DeVries," the drone stated, tapping the commbadge. "A merchant has indicated there may be a Vulcan proprietor who has boasted of coming into possession of a cache of rare materials. I am heading to the indicated establishment to inquire."

"Let me know what you find," Stace responded through the comm curtly before it went dead.

With a nod the drone proceeded to the bar, hesitating only a moment at the threshold to the establishment. These kind of social parlors were not a place that the drone knew anything about. Drifting awkwardly through the doors, the drone turned to look for a Vulcan barman.

Across the room paced a rather unfriendly looking Vulcan male, a phaser rifle strapped to his chest as if it were part of his outfit. None of the patrons made eye contact with him, and even fewer of them sat near enough the bar to make it seem as if he were the overly talkative type.

Curious, the drone made its way over to the bar. Resting it's hands on the bar top, Three looked directly at the scowling son of Surak. "I presume you to be the proprietor of this establishment. I am interested in a supply of medical-quality magnesite. I was told you may be the person to inquire with."

The Vulcan gave him a serious look before shaking his head in the negative, "You are not my contact, you will not be getting anything from me. Leave..."

If the look was meant to intimidate, the man may have well been staring over the top of the drone's head. Which he likely was doing regardless. "Curious, your reference to a 'contact', would this be an individual who could fill such an order? It is a matter of some urgency."

"I am not about to discuss this with you little drone... Go back to whatever collective you came from before I scrap you..." the Vulcan said, lifting his rifle.

Three's mind was running a number of calculations, each playing out the most likely scenarios given the direction of the present interaction. There were patrons in the bar. That fact seemed to diminish the likelihood that the Vulcan would fire the weapon with a variety of witnesses available; however, the standards of law and order on this station were likely not to Federation standards. So Three leaned on what seemed the most advantageous of the options available. Logic.

"The illogic of waste would seem to be a consideration which you are overlooking," the drone remarked simply, though Three did take a polite step back from the bar to indicate some compliance with the Vulcan's request. "It is logical in your profession to seek a maximized profitability on inventory. I respect that you may not find such business success with a middle man such as myself, but the individuals in my... Collective... have access to an adequate supply of monetary instruments with which to strike a logical exchange for goods."

Pausing just a moment, the drone added, "Is it logical to... scrap that?"

"I do not prescribe to logic... and profit isn't what I'm here for. Take your money and yourself out of my sight," the Vulcan said before nodding to several rather large Nausicaans who 'escorted' the drone back out of the bar and 'gently' hurled him to the ground outside.

Picking itself up, Three merely noted the man's words for what they were and strode around to look for the other members of the away team. "Three of Seven to Major DeVries, I believe the individual I found to be worth further study; however, I appear to be unwelcome in his establishment."

"Meet back up where we beamed in, we'll discuss a plan from there," Stace said curtly.

"Acknowledged," the drone answered politely, closing the channel as Three worked out a route back to the exact location indicated.