Ep. 1 - A Moment's Peace

[Atreides Conscript]

The Maquis Raider Unity's Vengeance has just finished a routine resupply mission. This last mission has been a good chance for the newer crewmen to breathe. The remaining old crew doesn't seem to take it quite the same way however.

They haven't taken even a moment to relax on the verdant planet of Cestus III. All crewmen were given the opportunity to take leave when their loading or repair shifts were over, yet the veteran members stayed aboard. Some of the other crewmen talk about it amongst themselves in hushed voices over guarded tables.

Cestus III seems to have many interesting sights to offer, but none appear to be close enough to the station's locale. It would have been nice to have an orbital station to dock at. That would have allowed for transports all over the surface with little inconvenience to the crew as a whole. Unfortunately, backwater hubs are a vigilante's best bet for remaining undetected.

The station is a large complex about seven square kilometers in area. You are very aware of good and bad districts within the portropolis, and have been warned to steer clear of fights if possible. This isn't always easy in these places, but you also needn't worry about people reacting to the disruptor pistols at your hips.

Most things that one can imagine within a station-city are around to be accessed. And should one not want to explore the place, there is always the raider to return to. There is also the matter of the new crewman to consider... a one Threl Jondro. You've been waiting for him since you all arrived, and he's yet to make contact. The Commander has mentioned sending a party to find him should he take too much more time, but has kept his name and picture from you for the time being.

[eunhathes]

[The Klisikar Pub]

Hours ago, Maxwell had finished his duties for the day. He had recallibrated the long range sensors and reconfigured the star charts to show the recent activities the Maquis had provided him with information on. Now, his mind was plastered across the insides of his skull, swished around with Saurian brandy and Andorian Ale. The odd blend of ice and fire provided his senses with a deluge that he had only rarely experienced before. His mind sludged and his voice slurred, were he speaking. His silence spoke for him. He would have explained what was being said, but every veteran knew what those words said: I am alone. His war was over, and now he struggled to cope with daily living. His liquor became his best friend, since his truest friends were now all forsaken by the same Federation they had fought to hard to protect. Sometimes, it simply disgusted him.

Maxwell took another swallow of the brandy/ale mix and grimaced as it burned the faces of his comrades away. Recently, he had served aboard the Ulara's Faithful. Recently, his ship had been destroyed. Very recently, he was recovered by the Unity's Vengeance. Even more recently, Maxwell had begun remembering his Maquis bretheren who died in that battle. Within moments, the brandy/ale was no longer ebbing his own pain enough, and Maxwell Hooper broke down and began to sob to himself.

[Kensai]

[The Klisikar Pub]

Charlie strode into the pub, fixing her eyes straight ahead, she didn't feel like fighting so soon after work. She had spent a short time trying to familarize herself with her new ship, another Maquis ship, another set of eager crewmembers, another turn to survive. It was times like these, Charlie was grateful for her burning hatred for her enemies, without it...she dared not think about it.

She had allowed herself a moment's sadness as she bid farewell to her old ship, the Reprisal, before looking upon her new ship and new life. You are needed more on the ship, the damn words rung in her head as she shot an angry look as she passed a set of curious eyes, what did they know of her life? Settling on a bar stool away from the majority of the people, she ordered a glass of whiskey - out of respect for her father.

[Lylie]

Yen walked around the station for a while looking at the different things that was around the station. Looking at some of the shops and trying to not think about the confusing Klingon language was not working. She walked around to try and get her mind off of the jefferies tubes.

Deciding that the window shopping is not helping her head any she starts looking for a pub. Maybe the numbing effect of the alcohol will help her head. After a beer I'll go window shopping again. Maybe I'll find something that I like.

Stopping at the first one she sees, she walks in. She waits as she walks up to the bar, for the static that she normally gets when walking into a pub. She takes a stool at the bar and and orders a beer. Something local.

[gryphonpoet]

Threl Jondro blended in anywhere he wished to. His slender build and average height could pass for any humanoid almost anywhere in the galaxy, even with the Bajoran ridges across the bridge of his nose. But he was at the cross-halls of the Station on Cestus III. He watched the people pass, the same way he watched everything else, without actually being noticed. That was a benefit.

The steady smile seemed a slight contradiction to the large, sharpened knife Jondro used to carve into the tree branch he held. The intricate patterns formed leaves, veins and faces in the now-exposed white meat of the wood. One flick at a time, Jondro removed any piece that didn't resemble the motif he pictured. On this five foot long staff, he intended to grow his own deciduous forest. Stroke by stroke it came to life as the pile of chips formed at his feet. The people passed by. Jondro stayed.

This seemingly-innocuous Bajoran wanderer had seen every section of this oversized station over the past two days. He had checked every pad a ship could land on. Most of them twice.

Next time I see Commander Asmodum, I will slice him open. the smiling Bajoran thought to himself between ideas. If I catch the Uprising in my sights, I'll just blast her out of the sky.

Behind the cold, blue eyes lay thoughts that only few people knew. And fewer wanted to know. Not that he shared them, but telepaths were rare and sometimes present. Jondro had to take care to protect himself from that. Right now, however, plans formed and re-formed throughout his consiousness. One thing pierced the mind of the man. How to find his new ship.

Looking up momentarily to refocus his eyes and avoid strain, his vision fell on a computer terminal. A glimmer widened his smile slightly. He looked at the nearest landing pad, then back at the terminal.

With this epiphany, sometime near noon, Jondro gathered his wasted wood together and placed the pieces into the waste recepticle. He slapped the incidental sawdust from his hands and dark grey jumper. The Bajoran man walked, bouyed by his new stick, to the keypad and display. Still smiling. Still watching.

His fingers flew over the touch-spaces to access the list of ships and the pads they landed at. Jondro also requested the lists from the previous three days. Finally, he asked for a paper copy of each. Fortunately, Cestus III remained a backwater port, away from the action of the Resistance. Security had been lax. But then, had it been tightened, the transfer would never have been scheduled for here.

Once the hard-copies of the information he requested appeared, Jondro spindled them and slid them into an inside pocket of his travelling vest. With the aid of his newly-finished staff, he walked away to a quiet corner of the station. Out of the light and out of sight of the security monitors.

He wasn't planning to blow up the station, but he knew that would be what it looked like as he poured over the plans, comparing ship arrivals, open slits and crew movements.

Another boring day. thought Jondro of the Threl clan. At least I will have something to occupy myself

----------------------

(Edited to correct grammar)

[celest]

Kira walked quietly by herself along the streets and sidewalks near the landing station. She looks casually at some of the stores, looking for any shop that might sell loose tea leaves. Her mind travelled away from the planet she was one as it thought of her father and the children she had helped him save. She said a silent prayer for the young ones, wishing them to never again experience anything like that horrid flight. Her thoughts then turn to ones of her mother. She smiles slightly, a sad smile, whishing her mother was with her physically but knowing her death was one of honor.

She stops in front of a bar. As she looks in she can see some of the other crewmen of the Unity's Vengeance. "Figures," she says quietly to her self, "this is probaly the closest bar to the ship." She walks in to the bar as her thoughts return to her mother. Saki she thinks. It was mother's favorite drink. Warm Saki. She walks up to the bar and looks around for the tender. Looking around she tries to place some of the names she knew to the crewmen she reconized. Her eyes came to the Navigations officer. She watched his tears as they dropped onto the floor. She walks up to him, unable to resist her helpful nature.

"You're Maxwell Hooper right?" she asks him. "May I buy you another drink?"

[Atreides Conscript]

Yen: You ask the bartender for something local. After you grimace at him for suggesting himself, he gets the point and serves up some alcohol. You hear drunken laughter from the nearest table to the bar. A bunch of kids in Starfleet uniforms populate the area. One of them looks at you and winks. He appears to be the only one who hasn't been drinking.

Charlie: You aren't sure exactly what type of whiskey this is... but it's hitting hard, and it's hitting fast. In your semi-stupor you see a man in Federation uniform sit down at the bar next to you. You survey his rank pips to find that he's a commander. As you look around the pub, you see another group of Feddies waltz in through the side entrance. This is getting uncomfortable to say the least.

Maxwell: As you finally watch the last of your memories bleed from your eyelids, a woman appears in front of you. She asks you to verify your name to which you gesture what you think is a nod. She then asks if she can get you another drink.

Kira: It is slightly worse than you first imagined. Not only is this man in despair... but his breath smells of alcohols that should be considered a bio-hazard. This doesn't look like it's going to be fun.

Jondro: It doesn't take you long to find a dark alleyway with an even darker inlet to study in. Now it seems that you're set.

[Kensai]

Charlie looked back at her whiskey glass, whatever this whiskey was – it was not Federation standard. She stole a glance at the Federation officer as he sat down next to her and ordered a drink. He looked so content, so assured, and possibly even smug in his comfortable, Federation uniform. The Federation and their selective help, sure they ‘tried’ to help the Bajorans in the Cardassian Occupation, but did they support the Maquis when they needed them most?

She downed the last of her drink and aimed to lower the glass slowly back onto the counter, but her anger and semi-stupor caused the glass to slam onto the table, splintering the bottom of the cut glass. She tried to avoid scowling but the anger was surfacing, the old, decaying hatred that kept her wanting to destroy the ‘bullies’ of the world. If the Federation had helped the Maquis, rather than capture and hold the remnant in prisons, like criminals or untrainable dogs. She eyed more of the Federation entering the bar, more content and ignorant Federation people.

“Another drink?” the barkeeper asked emotionless as he picked up the cracked glass.

“Something lighter.” She turned and focussed on the barkeeper, her head swaying a bit, “Don’t want to get drunk and lose control.” She sneered. The alchol was making her judgemental, she started feeling like a fight, something to soil that apparent contented look on the Federation commander's face. While he rose up the ranks of Starfleet, with probably minor battles with enemies, Chatlie had to claw her way out of every mission - barely making it - blessed with good luck, something some of her crewmates didn't have. She rotted in prision, while she could have been fighting.

[Lylie]

"Listen here little man." Yen says after the bartender is done,"I don't think that you could handle this fireball." She smiles at the bartender sweetly and takes her beer. she spins around on the stool so her back is to the bar. She takes a sip and smiles at the boy in the uniform.

Ugh. What's with them wanting to be with someone who looks like they're twelve. Perverts. Although they can be quite fun at times. She continues to smile slightly. Sipping her beer slowly so it doesn't hit her as hard. Too bad I don't have my families insensitivity to beer. Never could hold the stuff if I drank it too quickly.

She looks over at the boy again and gesters for him to join her. If not anything else I could see what this boy can do. Her smile widens just a little at thinking this.

[celest]

Kira raises blinks a bit as the fumes from the man hit her nose. This man doesn't need anymore to drink. But I offered so I better make it a coffee. She smiles at him and looks around for the nearest bartender to waiter/waitress. She signals them with her hand and asks, "May I please get a warm saki?" she smiles again and looks back at Maxwell. "May I join you?"

[eunhathes]

[The Klisikar Pub]

Nodding in affirmation, the drunken man looked into the eyes of this new woman with longing and regret. Damn, he thought, How she looks like Quigney. Just recalling the face of the friend he had lost on the Killarney aggitated the pain he had been drowning in alcohol. She had been one of the Junior Science Officers, and the two had been friends since their Academy days. Then again, he knew many people across the galaxy. He looked at the woman again. He raised his hand in signal for another glass. The best part of his Saurian brandy and Andorian ale mixer was the fact that it went down smooth and hit you like a ton of duranium. He took the glass and swallowed the concoction again. He loved and hated it all at once, and proceded to try and speak with this woman beside him. "Wha ken aye doo ferya, mish kwiggnee?"

[gryphonpoet]

(Hidden within the bowels of the station)

Jondro poured himself over the station layouts he had hacked from the terminal earlier in the afternoon. He observed just how many ships had come and gone from the port over the past three days. Slowly, it dawned on him just how huge the station is.

But he kept at his work. Jondro marked each of the ships that matched the size and class ship that he knew the Unity's Revenge to be. He then overlay the map of the second day over the first and circled the ones that had not changed. In a lighter stroke, he circled those of the same class of his target to compare with the third day's docking charts.

From the cross reference work, he reduced the options from a nearly limitless search in this eddy pool of a station in a stagnant part of space to about a dozen logical possibilities to check out. And that the tenacious Bajoran thought to himself without ever losing his smile, is the next step. If fortune, indeed, favors the foolish, then I may be aboard by nightfall.

With rapid and practiced movements, Jondro took his tactical maps and rolled them back into the spindle as before. He hid them carefully in his tunic once more. His new walking stick in hand, with its carefully cut leaf-based motif, tapped a non-descript rhythm against the marble floor of the hallway.

He grinned and nodded at the people who walked by. True, they were mostly humans, but there were also enough other races to provide a variety. And variety served Jondro's camouflage well. In fact, he doubted anyone would remember him once he walked past. And that was good.

Now, dear friend Jondro's smile stretched as he squinted against the falling sun. The nearest landing pad is number 426. And that would be... right... there.

Smile intact and with the demeanor of a Bajoran pilgrim, Jondro turned slightly and headed for the gateway that bracketed Landing Node 4 from the remainder of the station. There were two other pads to check there and one was a high prospect.

[celest]

Kira blinked again at the strong fumes and took a seat still waiting for her drink. mish Quigny? oh dear, he must think I'm some one else, no doubt due to the alcohol She smiles at him. "I believe you have me confused for some one else sir. My name is Kira Owens. I am the Medic on the Unity's Vengeance. I've seen you on board, though I don't believe you have ever come under my care. You must be a lucky individual that or one with extreme skill or a high tolerence to pain." Or one who thinks alcohol can cure anything. "You work Navigations, correct? That was never my strong suit though I am curious about different areas."

[Atreides Conscript]

Maxwell/Kira: In conversation. Nothing of note to either of you outside of each other speaking. Hooper, this is due to your intoxication. Owens, this is due to your worrying about his intoxication.

Charlie: The commander next to you tells the bartender that he'll cover your next drink. After doing so he asks you what you know of the station. You also see that he's noticed the Bajoran disruptor pistol at your side, but he's trying not to glance at it too often.

Yen: The young man gets up to some congratulatory commotion from his Starfleet comrades. He walks on over and asks you your name after introducing himself as Johnathan Towers. He then proceeds to ask if you'd like another drink.

Jondro: The sun is setting on the station. You're aware of the seven locations you have to check... and are also aware of the danger involved if the pads hold unfriendly denizens. As you pass through the crowds like a breeze in the eve you are aware that far more people at this station seem armed. You also note that you've seen two of the station guards several times over the past few hours. That isn't good.

[gryphonpoet]

(Entryway to Landing Node 4)

Jondro walked with the jaunty air of someone immersed in the bright sunshine of a pleasant day. And he was. Traffic channeled through a checkpoint at the intersection and seperated the main causeway from the landing pads.

At the gate stood two humans in contract security uniforms. Jondro observed them with a hearty smile as he approached. They both were lean and well-muscled. Both were also armed with Andorian-made hand phasers. Not Star Fleet issue, but still could be trouble.

He unslung his backpack to carry it through the sensor array embedded in the arch at the entry. The walking staff he carried still in his other hand.

"Stop right there." The first human held out his hand to prevent Jondro from crossing through directly. "Open your rucksack and declare any weapons, explosives, cannisters under pressure or other dangerous items."

His smile, as prevalent as ever, widened slightly once more. "I have a bush knife sheathed along the small of my back. I carry a walking staff for self defense and I have nothing else of danger."

The second human stepped from behind the first, producing a tricorder. Jondro's memory flicked on with a stunning quickness. That model of tricorder scanned for unstable materials at short distances. Primarily, explosive devices. No worry there. Then again, this blonde male who scanned him seemed less of a problem than the redhead asking the questions. The first human could obviously handle himself in a tight corner.

Discretion is the better part of valor the Bajoran thought to himself. At least right now it is.

The overbulked redhead continued. "What is your destination?"

"I am looking work on a freighter going to any system I have yet to visit, dear child." Jondro shook his head slightly to allow his earpiece to dangle and sway in the sunlight. Even though the human was likely older than he, Jondro could play the part of a clerical zealot to the hilt. That included the condescending titles of universal affection. "The work performed will act as my fare en route."

The blonde man finished his scan. The nod he sent the first man conveyed the lack of explosives on Threl Jondro. There were times when that would not have been the case, but this time his mission wasn't to destroy. Fortunately, he never carried the same backpack twice.

With a jerk of his head, the bigger of the two humans motioned Jondro through the gate. A density array, to double check the scan just run by the second security officer and verify the density of all the items passing through. Another non-problem. Phaser rifles disguised as a walking stick, for instance, will have an obvious density discrepancy. Jondro's staff was wood, through and through.

"Nice work on your staff, Pilgrim." the second security officer said.

Jondro's smile continued, unabated. "Thank you, child. I was privileged to have visited Earth some two years back. Some of the forests there changed colors in their leaves during my stay. It seemed the magic of the Prophets, and so inspired this recent work, humble as it is."

Jondro slipped through to the other side of the gate and into the circle of landing pads that formed node 4. Someday, he would get caught. But not today. The Bajoran soon disappeared into the busy pace of operations at the large spaceport, then quickly found pad 426.

[Lylie]

Looking at her drink and then back to Johnathan and says "I still have half my drink. But afterwords I will think about it, if you treat me right." She give him a mischievous grin. "I'm Lin." She gave him her sister's name. She won't mind. She always did say she wanted to date, or whatever it is she did with her guys, a star fleet officer. I'll just do it for her.

"So Johnathan, would you mind me calling you John?" She winked at him. Leaning back on her stool she sips her beer again. "What did you have in mind of doing tonight?" She says looking him up and down without trying to hide it.
Take the bait boy. Don't disappoint me. Yen thought to herself. You have got to be a horny little pup. That is why your approaching me.

Yen nods after she's done with her inspection. She smiles like she has just won a prize, or has gotten first choice in a game.

[Kensai]

Charlie eyed the Federation officer as he offered to pay for her drink, she could see he wanted her drunk.
“I’d rather pay for my own stuff, I don’t like owing people favors.” Cathy nodded to the barkeeper, she toyed with adding ‘especially Federation’.

“So what do you know about this station?” the commander asked, his casualness not going unnoticed with Charlie.

If she was completely sober, she probably would have registered the risk she was putting herself in talking to this Federation officer. The remnant Maquis forces were still wanted by the Federation, especially previously imprisoned ones that were let out on good words and faith to ‘straighten their act’. Or as Charlie put it, turn their back on the suffering of others that the Federation ‘couldn’t’ or ‘shouldn’t’ help.

There were few categories humans in space fell into, Federation/Starfleet personnel, civilians, Federation officials…or Maquis. Charlie’s disruptor, securely strapped to her waist, narrowed down the choices. If the commander’s power of deduction were working well, he would see either Charlie was a civilian serious about self-protection or her real affiliation. All of this should have been filling Charlie’s mind, but the alcohol and the bitterness in her mouth was pushing these ‘rational’ thoughts back.

“I know its frequented by all walks of life.” She sipped her drink and stared hard at the commander, like a dog not wanting to back away, “Traders, merchants, soldiers, freedom fighters…” her eyes narrowed, “And ignorant cowards who choose their battles so selectively as not to bloody their hands or upset anyone.”

She didn’t wait for a counter argument or retort, “Those that turn their backs on the innocent, let the bullies destroy those that cannot fight back. All when they have the means to stop the suffering.”

[Atreides Conscript]

Charlie: The commander narrows his eyes and gazes directly into yours. He stands up and makes sure to give you plenty of time to notice the phaser at his hip.

"You appear to have had enough miss. Perhaps you'd like me to assign a detail to escort you home?"

You can tell that he is quite bothered by your confrontationalism. He looks to the bartender and drops 20 slips of latinum on the counter.

"The lady is finished for the evening."

Looking back to you he says rather unabashedly, "We don't want any trouble now do we?"

As you gaze around the bar, some Federation crewman are drinking as if nothing has happened. Those that took note of the commander's actions are either restless in their seats or standing up. How did so many of them get in here without your notice? You saw a few here and their, but now there must be a dozen or so.



Yen: The young man looks at you and seems to be biting, but at that moment another man in Starfleet uniform at the other end of the bar stands and utters some words that catch the young Johnathan's attention.

"I'll be right back. This may get ugly. I think the commander's found some scum to deal with," he says to you like a soldier would to a civilian child... with a slight bit of caring, but a terribly dissinterested tone. He turns and heads off toward the man who you now assume to be his commander.



Maxwell: You are rather drunk, and the face of Quigney keeps overlapping with that of the crewman in front of you. The voice is VERY different from Quigney's however, so you are now completely aware of the depths to your intoxicated state.

She seems to be looking around the bar with an expression of worry on her face. You wonder to yourself... just why would she be worried about your drunkeness? It's normal enough after all.



Kira: You are paying a good amount of attention to the semi-conversation at hand, but you now realise just what's been happening around the bar since you stopped paying attention.

Their are a great deal of Starfleet personnel assembled, and only a few look to be happily drinking their varied beverages. Some are standing with their hands hovering toward the phasers at their sides. Others are sitting, but already have phasers in various states of being drawn.

You're not sure what's started this, but the bartender has left the bar to his attendants... who are eyeing everybody readily. Everybody seems to be looking at a man near the other end of the bar. He's also in Starfleet uniform, but you can't make out the rank from here. His red undershirt might imply something, but you can't remember what it signifies....

Either way, this is getting out of hand... and the slightest thing could make this turn ugly.



Jondro: You make your way to Pad 426... but the entire pad is shut down for maintenance. Sounds like an excellent cover for a covert operation of any sort, but are they Maquis... or are they even there at all?

[eunhathes]

[The Klisikar Pub]

"Nahveegayshun? Yuh, dahts me." His inebriation seemed to amplify his words almost as much as it punctuated his personality. "Da goodt sheep Oolaura'zh Fatefool." Maxwell extended his hand in a gesture of comradery. "I d'dnt know yoo join'd da Mawkey, Kwignee." He then turned back to his drink and stared into the bottom of the glass, his nose touching the rim. "Thngain, whay wooden yoo, affer da dammemmed Sterfleece leffed uz fer ded." The words slithered out like a blood, oozing from a gash. His voice was soft and mournful, as though he were at a funeral. His eyes, vacant as space itself, drew lines in the bottom of his glass.

[celest]

Kira looked around cautiously a bit. He too drunk to relize I'm not his old friend. Great. He's also too drunk to hold his tounge. She trys not to look to supious as she tries to get a mental count of how many Starfleet are in here. Good grief! It doesn't matter how many there are if Maxwell keeps going on like this they're bound to grab us! I got to get him out of here. She stands somewhat slowly and walks over to Maxwell. She places her hand under his shoulder and tugs gently to try and get him to stand. "Come Maxwell, lets get back to the ship," she says quitely in his ear. "We can get some tea in you and you'll feel better. I'll buy you all the drinks you want later." She pulls a bit harder to force/help him stand. Mom if you help me out of this I'll drink warm saki every night in your memory