The Horseshoe - Part 1

Posted on Wed Apr 30th, 2014 @ 12:35pm by Lieutenant JG Rami Miral & Commander Rylie Cattmor & Petty Officer 3rd Class Sehra Vahn
Edited on on Wed Apr 30th, 2014 @ 1:13pm

1,690 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Landreah
Location: Landreah

ON

Rylie and Miral finally made it to the Horseshoe and walked inside. The setup and ambiance here was a hell of a lot nicer than Fernando's Hideaway, and actually reminded Rylie of one of the conference halls at Daddy's business, just a lot smaller of course. Operating on two levels, it was generally well lit and looked comfortable. The bar along one side dominated the wall, and it was busy. The opposite corner held the elevated stage-like plinth which had been set up with band instruments, no doubt for that night's entertainment, while tables and borders dotted the lower ground floor. The top levels were obviously made for a little more privacy, with frosted glass by the railing curbing the casual on-looker's ability to really see anything.

Seemingly, the others had yet to arrive as Miral and Cattmor could not easily make them out. Instinct said they should remain indiscreet and private and the top level provided that, but they also needed to remain visible for the others, so they found a table in one of the quieter corners and sat down to wait.

The bandage and spirits were helping to keep the pain at bay, but Miral was definitely looking forward to a stiff drink -- and a trip to sickbay.

"I never quite liked sickbay, at least not compared to the infirmary back home. They seem so... dull." Rylie said, continuing to fish out memories from a life long since past, so much else had happened. "My father's medical facility was so bright, white surfaces, pastel shades of colour and artificial lighting simulating the time of day and year. Calming pictures on the walls, seascapes, sunsets." She paused before catching Miral's eye, "Sorry, you wanted a drink. I could probably use one myself."

Miral let down her guard enough to chuckle. "I think your father's medical facility sounds like a great place." She glanced around the room to see if there was anyone she recognized. "I think a drink is definitely called for."

Rylie let loose a half-hearted smile, thinking about Daddy was almost as painful as using her teek abilities. "I'll be be right back." she said as she got up and made her way to the bar. For all its problems, for all the pain it had caused them so far, if there was one thing that Cattmor could say for Landreah, it was that they seemed to have excellent taste in alcoholic beverages. This was saying something, Cattmor coming from a system where consumption of alcohol was virtually compulsory, for any number of reasons--medicinal, psychological, recreational; it was almost the same as the myriad of drugs that were dealt, just that alcohol was legal. Of course, the current down side to this was they were technically on duty, and part of her duty as the XO was also to keep everyone else safe. She'd failed with Miral and she got shot. Still, alcohol didn't tend to weigh as heavily on her as it did on other people.

Another of the down sides to this place was that it turned out to be quite busy, at least coming close to this hour when people were starting to get off from their day jobs. That's what I said to - Oh gees, here we - do and why the heck should you - go with another galactic tragedy - be listening to me since you're only - story no doubt to carry favour - my boss in this, if only - the local bar maids, that's it - situations were the other way round - it's that Radell you're chasing - once Tan shows up you might actually listen - I really need another.

Rylie picked up the glasses and bottle she'd ordered and started walking back to Rami when something just hit her--What, wait a minute; Tan? She sat down and passed out the glasses as she leaned in to Miral, "That ID chit you picked up in Fernando's, wasn't the name on that something Tan?"

Miral thought for a minute. "I think it was Jensa Tan."

"They're turning up here soon. Within the next hour I guess." Cattmor said as she swallowed a glass of the liquid she'd picked up. "Keep a look out, he's fairly tall and stocky, dark hair with a mark down his nose, possibly a birthmark or scar, I couldn't quite tell. If this is Jensa Tan, we'll probably need to try to have a few words with him."

Miral took a swallow of her drink and acted like she was having a relaxing drink after a day of work and nodded. "I will." She didn't want to draw any undue attention to herself or Rylie, so began to run math through her head to focus on something else while she casually glanced around the room.

Rylie stared into the bottom of her empty glass, willing away the urge to pour another so soon. Growing up with it, alcohol didn't seem to affect her as it did with many other people. Rami had an excuse, to dull the pain, but Rylie had little. She poured it anyway and attempted to move her eyes where Miral's were not. She was right, they didn't want to bring undue attention to themselves, that was until Rylie noted a mistake, one she couldn't let go, "You forgot to carry the seven." she whispered to Rami with a slight smile.

"Carry the seven?" Miral asked, a bit confused. "What equation did I mess up?"

"Sorry," Rylie said quickly, her actions again too fast for her conscience. "Armstrong's second unofficial law of power throughput theory, you have to carry the last digit of the calculation or the second calculation will be at least double what it should be. It's most applied when dealing with flow regulators else they'd give out before the diagnostics were completed." Miral's look continued. "That is what you were doing, right?" Rylie asked, a little embarrassed.

Miral blinked, a wry smile crossing her face. "I wasn't really paying attention," she admitted. "Just running different formulas through my head to keep from thinking of the others and why they aren't here." And to not focus on her leg, which hurt like crazy, but was otherwise mostly functional.

* * * * * * * * *
Outside 'The Horseshoe'

Nothing had gone according to plan.

That wasn't entirely Sehra's fault, though it was fair enough to suggest that she certainly hadn't helped matters. Adopting the guise of a spoilt businessman's vacant-headed daughter hadn't been part of her initial plan but it was fascinating, from a purely professional standpoint, how quickly that became her perceived persona without much actual input from her save, she had to assume, her appearance. The Betazoid had perhaps underestimated just how keenly fresh-faced she was and though she had tried to heed Cattmor's earlier warning by not appearing too enthusiastic, placing Sehra into a new situation in unfamiliar surroundings with a plethora of random strangers and expecting her not to convey an air of expectant anticipation was likely a little naive. She understood the seriousness of their mission but her role in this was covert, her contribution defined by what her senses could pick up. Presenting as someone trying to wade through a mental deluge would not only make her telepathic prying just a tad too obvious, it would likely gift her an expression somewhat akin to internal constipation.

Not a good look.

So she had been trying, really trying, to accept the role the locals seemed content to assign to her whilst, at the same time, not drawing any undue attention. Cattmor had charged her with finding the rest of the away team and moving them to the rendezvous point ahead of schedule and, having located Lieutenant Dean by a feat of sheer coincidence only moments after setting out, the young brunette had honestly felt confident that it was an order easily executed. For reason's beyond her ability to fathom, the very first group they'd encountered had even gone as far as to assume Dean was her bodyguard, such was the timing of their reunion, whilst the frosty glare from a rather elderly woman betrayed the assumption of philandering that evoked condemnation from her inner monologue. Even though she was being silently branded the very opposite of a 'nice young lady', Sehra had still smiled warmly at the woman and suppressed a grin at the muttered response she received in return. The Betazoid wasn't sure she'd really expected such a hostile and judgmental reaction to her presence but it was better than outright suspicion. They'd approached the marketplace without incident.

It had been the Lieutenant who had first noticed that they'd been followed. At first, it seemed the best way to locate the rest of the team was to feign an attempt at a shopping trip and, since it merged two of Sehra's favourite hobbies, (talking and shopping), into one task, it hadn't been difficult to muster up an air of enthusiasm as she'd wandered between stalls. The marketplace was a cacophony of smells and sounds, inner ramblings and outward rantings, and so it was perhaps understandable that the young boy had remained on the peripheral without Sehra realising he was the same child who had attempted to sell her an apple as she'd left the tavern. At first, she'd merely smiled at his insistence, though it had taken only a few seconds of trained observation to realise it wasn't her he was staring at but something over her shoulder. She'd turned to see.

Now, out of breath and nearly doubled-over from the exertion of her escape, the young petty officer stared up at the sign above the door, relief flooding her features as she realised it was the right building. Marshaling her composure, she looked both ways up and down the street and, rather than go inside, took a step around the corner and leaned against the wall. With focused precision, the telepath reached her mind out for a singular source and, having located it inside, sent Cattmoor a simple message.

We've got trouble.



...to be continued.

 

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