Delicate Negotiations

Posted on Mon May 14th, 2018 @ 2:18am by Captain Remas McDonald

2,641 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: S1:2: Rubicon
Location: Crew Quarters
Timeline: MD 18 10.00

"Do you mind if I come in?"

As quarters went on an exploratory starship, the Traveller boasted some of the best. But even size and space couldn't make up for the lack of any real personal touches, given Daani Black wasn't a registered member of the crew. Nor the fact the replicator in one wall had a very limited selection of options, none of which came with sharp implements or materials that could be made into the same.

Remas stood at the door, flanked by the two Expedition Security officers who were standing guard. Neither looked especially pleased that their prisoner, because lets face who else could she be, was receiving a guest.

“Please do. It would be nice to have a guest to talk to.”

Daani pushed off from the wall, dropping down from her handstand. Given hours with nothing to do but kick her heels and amuse herself, she’d fallen back on an old standby… working out. Born and bred in a trench, she’d long ago mastered the ability to do a full body workout in a very small space. It came in handy at times and stopped her going stir crazy, especially on a ship where there only seemed to be one friendly face. Although… she supposed kidnapping their captain hadn’t been such a hot idea.

Ironic then that the friendly face belonged to that selfsame captain…

"My apologies for the Spartan accommodations. Most members of the crew and the colonists on the barge had their personal effects recorded into the replicators. All the comforts of home without the pesky mass allowance getting in the way," Remas said, looking around as the stark grey walls.

Might not be the brig, he thought, but it's not too far removed. He then held up the item he'd brought with him, a rolled up length of woven tapestry.

"Thought I might bring you something, as well perform my captainly duties as well," he said with a smile and rolled it out on the table. The pattern was a little rough in places, but anyone with a lick of common sense in the affairs of spacefarers could see a star map in it. A colourful sun with waving arms, ringed by the orbital paths of planets coloured like vines of ivy.

"Its Risian," he said with a smile. "There first astronaut made that when she returned to the surface. Science made of art, or the other way around if you prefer."

She shrugged. “Never been one for much in the way of personal belongings, unless it’s weaponry. My belongings were probably returned to my brother when I was…” She paused for a moment, eyeing him and wondering how serious he’d been about the new start he’d promised her.

“This is lovely,” she reached out a hand to the tapestry but didn’t touch it. “Are you sure you want to give it away?” Especially to me?

"It is lovely, and yours. I am something of a collector of this sort of thing, a magpie fixation if you will. You'd be doing me a grand favour in accepting it," Remas smiled. He then pulled out a PADD from his pocket and placed it on the table beside the small wall hanging tapestry. "Thought it might help break the ice, as we talk about your future with us on the Traveller."

He was an odd duck… Daani still wasn’t really sure what to make of him. So she settled for a quiet, “Thank you.” as she offered him the only seat in the room, sitting on the bed opposite.

“I’m all ears, Captain.” She offered a small smile, the expression a tad uncomfortable. “Although I’m guessing by the fact I’m here and not in the brig but I have company…” She waved toward the closed door and the security officers beyond it. “That you’re not entirely sure what to do with me.”

"I handpicked every member of this crew. Took me near enough a year to do it, and the burning of favours and the making of promises to do it. Take the two ankle breakers outside," he said, indicating the door. "Ensign's Sato and Keyes. Sato used to work for one of the largest private security firms in the Alpha Quadrant as a 'Personal Protection Agent'. Fancy man's bodyguard. He see's the world around him like you and I see puzzles, see's the how of things, the way things works and the lay of whats to come. As for Miss Keyes, former Starfleet Marine Corp MP. Knows the rule of law fore and aft, knows when it needs to be enforced and when it can be bent."

He smiled.

"Both of them are critical thinkers, and one of them is a member of MENSA and should not be trusted around the floating card game I know not a jot about in the engine room," he tapped the PADD. "But apart from our wee chat and the medical extrapolation of your various past injuries, I know you're as much of a critical thinker as those two. A brute would have revelled in the blood of escape, and even the brief satisfaction of murdering their assumed jailor when all hope of escape was lost. But not you. So I ask the question that's on your mind as well: what is to happen Daani Black?"

“I’m a soldier, Captain,” she said, lifting her chin and looking at him levelly. “Not a killer. Don’t get me wrong, when needed I can kill and I’m damned good at it, but it’s a job, not a need.” Her words and voice were level, without a hint of pride or bravado. They were factual, rather than said to impress.

“You handpicked the crew and from what you just said about those two you obviously went a little deeper than the norm… so here goes. And, yes, I am aware this may well land me back in the brig,” she offered with a quirk of her lips. “But, if you think about it, this whole ship is a brig. I can’t get off it, and it all depends if you want an active member of the crew or someone you’re going to have to watch every single day and tie up resources to do so.”

She raked her hair back off her face with a tattooed hand. “When the wars on Llanaria ended a lot of us joined the fleet. I was one of them. Given my history, they routed me into special forces, but not the kind that gets all cosy on a ship. I was in counter-terrorism for years before I was arrested and convicted for assassinating an Admiral. I was on my way to whatever penal facility they planned me to die in when I broke out and stole that pod.”

Her words dropped into silence and she smiled again.

“Regretting being in the same room as me now?”

"Regretting the choice in gift. Got an Addraix space helmet bedecked in desiccated feathers and paints that gaudier than a Ferengi on a bank holiday. Would have brightened this place up a lot more than the tapestry. Sort of a loud anchor to spin the room around," Remas mused, entering a few notes on the PADD.

"From what I know of the CT branch of Starfleet, is they look to stop a threat before it comes to harm folk. Sometimes that'll mean acting in ways and means that the fine folk of the Federation can never be allowed to know. It's a lonely life, thankless too I would wager," he went on. "How might you see these skills used in our rather unique situation?"

She couldn’t help the small, genuine laugh at his reply.

“I can’t work out if you’re totally unshockable, or totally insane,” she replied, elbows on her knees as she rubbed at a knuckle. There was a tiny scar there in the middle of the ink, a smooth expanse of skin she traced with her finger. “Well… we’re out in the ass end of beyond without backup. In my mind that means you need every advantage you have. I’m skilled at infiltration… you could drop me in a different civilization and I’ll bring back whatever intell or resources you need from where-ever. I even passed the training to become a counsellor on one mission…”

She frowned as she thought of other angles.

“In a foothold situation I could secure your ship and ensure you retain control of it with minimal loss of your crew but maximum loss of life in whoever was stupid enough to try and take it. Out here in the ass end of beyond up against who knows what? You could do with someone who has a sound grip of combat strategy and the ability to think totally outside the fleet box… What else? I’m a war hardened veteran with experience of leading men in ground combat and I’m highly adept with explosives. I could take a group of your crew and turn them into a small army if you so wished.”

She offered him another smile as she sat up. “As long as you don’t ask me to cook. We’re all good.”

"I...was afraid of this," Remas said after a long moment of consideration. He ran a hand over his beard, a thoughtful gesture as he mulled over her described skills. "Everything you've told me would lead me to believe that Expedition Security would be your ideal vocation, but everything about the ExpSec is designed to avoid conflict. We are one ship beyond any immediate means of resupply or reinforcement. It's why this particular Ronin class ship came without a weapons pod, or a complement of Marines. We cannot afford even the suggestion we mean to invade or press our case with a knife to the throat."

He held up a hand to forestall her.

"That is not to say I am not keenly aware of just how far out on a ledge I have put us. I would be more fool than not to kindly ask you not to use those skills you have earned," Remas tapped the padd. "It would seem you have garnered yourself a role I did not foresee adding to the roster of my ship. How does your own Intelligence department sound? It'd be your job to sift through sensor recordings and logs to find us as much info about anyone we came across, with the option of potential convert recon if it were needed."

She sat for a moment, surprised into silent. If she was honest, she hadn’t expected to be offered any role. She’d expected to be escorted right back to the brig and left there.

“Given it’s my ass out on the line here as well, you wouldn’t have to ask kindly,” she commented, mostly to cover her surprise. “Intelligence I can do. Thank you.”

She trailed off for a moment, then frowned. “All that and you didn’t ask…”

"About the subdermal tattoo's? You said they were something to do with stating visibly something about a relationship. Given the distance we have now crossed and the barriers to our return, I did not seek to pry," Remas explained.

“Why do I get the feeling that even amongst the Rish, you are unique?” She shook her head, a smile curving her lips. That hadn’t been what she’d expected.

“I meant that you hadn’t asked whether I killed the Admiral or not, but yes, my tattoos are a visual record of my life. My rank in our planetary military…” She swept her fingers over the knuckles of one hand. “Family and marital status…” her fingers swept over the back of her left hand. The skin there was less marked than the rest. “Military service.” She indicated her forearms both sides. Both arms were filled with tiny, geometric tattoos. “We rarely cover them, so anyone can see the stories of our lives just by reading them.”

"We of the Rish have similar habits, though ours tend towards songs and colours over the permanence of tattoos. Relationships can change, a sword forged in the heat of the battle can be smithed to till a field and serve a greater need," Remas turned the PADD off and slipped it back into his pocket. "Regardless of whether of your killed this Admiral or not, you said you did. In doing so you must have had reasons, and they must have been good ones. You do not strike me as the sort to act rashly on a whim, your record of service is too long to be a history of a fool."

“Tattoos can be altered, an extra line or stroke and the meaning has changed. We’re not much for singing… although I like to listen.” Her lips quirked again. “Actually I said I was arrested and convicted. I didn’t say I killed him.”

She watched as he put the padd away. The interview was at a close obviously. “So what happens now?”

"Now, I go to Chief Reynolds and my department heads and tell them there will be a new seat placed at the captain's table. I will also have to break it to my Chief Op's officer and my CSO that one of their lab spaces be turned over for our Intelligence Department," he explained. "By the way, to what rank did you rise in your Counter Terrorism role? Or was rank such costume jewellery?"

“Fleet ranks were never important to me.” She shrugged, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles as she answered. “I’ll do the job whatever you decide to call me.”

"Then congrats are in order JayGee Black. A Junior Grade rank might not much sway back home, but here it'll get you what you need," he held out a hand to Daani. "You answer to myself and Chief Reynolds on all matters relating to intelligence and information gathering. You might well have the dubious honour of getting to know a great many new faces in Messier 4. Do we have an accord?"

She reached out to place her hand in his, shaking firmly. “We do. I’ll even promise not to threaten you physically again, or kidnap you… Captain.”

"Please, Remas. Captain was my father's name," he smirked and released the firm shake. "I'll have Operations free up a space for you to begin the building of an intelligence capacity I never thought to need. In a way, I envy you the chance you'll get to wade into the unknown ahead of the ship. Comm's traffic and data wash against the hull like waves, but the ship must travel to find their source. You will get knee deep in a civilisation before we even see the same light they do."

“Remas,” she amended with a small inclination of her head. “And it’s a pity the rules are against the CO leaving the ship. I’ve never worked with a Rish as a partner before. It could be… interesting.”

He smiled and then pointed to a wall.

"Tradition is for the tapestry to hang on the wall that will receive the sun in the morning. Meant to light the way for distant travellers to find the shores of home again," he grinned and then headed for the door.

“Thank you,” she said, looking at the wall but he was already gone. Carefully, she touched the tapestry, tracing the design with a delicate finger as a small smile graced her lips.

Home. She hadn't been home for many years, but perhaps she could make the Traveller a suitable replacement...

 

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