Title: Guerdon.
  Part: IV:  Dealing a Round.  B'Elanna learns the ropes; Tom plays Dom-Jot.
  Author: D'Alaire M.

---

 

 

IV.  Dealing a Round

 

"Come on in, B'Elanna."

She took one step, looked around.  Wide but short, it was an ordinary bridge, dull in its dark blues and yellowed grays, with a rectangular viewscreen forward, flanked by ops to the left and a comm array to the right, the captain's chair and conn at center--typical Starfleet knock-off with Bolian tags, two decades old.

"All the way in," Tom said, not looking around again.  "Don't make me make it official."

B'Elanna furrowed her brow as she stared at the back of his rumpled head.

Before she could formulate her question, Maryl laughed.  "You'd think she'd wilt if she gets too far away from the warp core.  Come on, B'Elanna, come take a look at the comm station--so you'll want to fix that, too."

With a frown at the jibe, B'Elanna joined the Bajoran at her console.  Looking down upon her arrival, she blinked at the configuration--another round of Bolian biases, this time in panels made for thick-fingered men.  Maryl's fingers looked like chopsticks against the worn pads.  "I guess I could add that to the list," she said, glancing at the captain again.

Paris was intent on his monitor, though, then the viewscreen after a couple taps on a panel.  "Podala station, this is the Guerdon.  Please respond."  With a slow exhale, he leaned back and waited.  "Come on Gil," he said aside.  "Get off your ass."

Maryl leaned closer to B'Elanna and whispered, "Seven--hear a beep; six--calculate the distance across the relay room; five--put down coffee; four--pick up coffee and take another sip; three--take coffee across to the beeping panel, two--remember which button--."

"*Guerdon,*" came the reply. 

Maryl snickered.  "I'm too good at that."

A man with slicked-back gray hair and a thin brown beard appeared on the viewscreen and nodded at Tom, "We have you--and were expecting you five days ago."

"Could have been longer," Tom replied.  "I have a cargo report for you and the rumor mill, Gil, and an updated crew roster."

The station manager nodded.  "Yes.  We heard about Livich from The Dulrad.  Little wonder you were late, with only Ledge to run your engine room."

Tom jerked a thumb towards Maryl's station.  "That's our new engineer--B'Elanna Torres.  She'll be making supply runs with me and Ridge while we're here."

The manager tapped his panel.  "On record."  He looked across to the young woman at the comm station, drew his stare over her features and smiled thinly. 

"Oh God, here it comes," B'Elanna muttered.

"Here comes what?"  Maryl whispered.

"nuqneH!  qaleghneS!"

Maryl snorted, turning away to stifle the laugh that wanted to follow.

B'Elanna was not as amused.  "I don't speak Klingon," she coolly replied, "but thank you.  It's nice to be here."

Gil blinked at her response, cleared his throat and recovered with a jut of his chin.  "You are aware of the rules, then, I hope?"  he replied.  "We run a reputable station here at Podala.  Any misconduct comes with the severest penalties."

B'Elanna pulled a steady breath.  Any reasonable misconduct would knock that slimeball out the most convenient airlock. "I'm not new to the route.  I know the rules."

The manager turned his attention back to the center of the bridge.  "Captain Paris, you have been cleared for docking at platform fifty-eight-Theta."

"Thanks," Tom replied.

Gil bowed once more, glancing another grin B'Elanna's way.  "Guerdon, old crew and new, welcome to Podala Sta--"

Tom clicked off the comm and opened up the forward view of the station.  "Now we're even, Maryl."

"Even?"  she returned, "Leaving that toady with a sentence you know he'll want to finish?  Yeah, right."  She looked at B'Elanna.  "You don't speak Klingon?"

B'Elanna shook her head, driving her attention to the outdated control panel and its dim readings.  "Only a little.  Never picked it up."

"Just like me and the Janitsa dialect," Maryl nodded.  "It's like talking with overcooked rice stuffed in my cheeks.  My aunts never forgave me for not trying harder."

Tom peered back at the new engineer as he lined the Guerdon up with the docking clamps.  "Maryl warned you Gil's an ass, right?"
 

---

 

"The captain didn't say how long we'd be here," she said, a question without the interrogative as she jerked her coat collar up around her neck with her spare hand.  The whoosh of cool air from the station had given her a chill as soon as she came around the corner and made her even gladder she had a lot to do in the engine room.

"Three days," Ridge told her.  "The trades are all set up; the paperwork takes longer."

"We'll use it," she replied.  "If we get the parts, I'd like to replace the impulse coils and install a new system of trilateral filters while we're here.  Three days is enough, granted we get what we need today."

B'Elanna felt herself smiling a little as she spoke.  Strange as it was, she felt good.  As she headed toward the docking ring, which had been opened in the middle of deck three's lower engine room, she couldn't help but remind herself that she'd never come into a port as a full-fledged member of a crew, an employ rather than a hire.  Even on Cabol, she'd been what they called "accessory staff."  Now she was the Guerdon's engineer, and no matter what kind of ship it actually was, namely one needing a lot of work, she could call it her ship and mean it.  Definitely a nice change.

"Sounds like fun," Ridge grinned.

"I was hoping you'd think so."

"But you need to reserve tomorrow night."

B'Elanna looked back--then up--at him.  With that youthful voice, she kept forgetting how large Ridge was.  "Why?"

"Your welcome-in dinner," Ridge told her.

She shook her head.  "You don't need to do that."

The technician laughed.  "We want to, B'Elanna.  Savan's already reserved the space and the food, and Maryl's made sure we won't get peddled on.  Jerod's doing something--I don't remember what."

B'Elanna sighed quickly.  "That's very nice of all of you, but I'm really not much for going out when I have other things to do.  I'd really--"

"It won't take more than a couple hours," Ridge pressed with his usual friendly smile.  "Good food, a little wine, people serving you for a change and giving everyone a chance to kick back.  Then we'll go back to work.  Easy as that."

Again, she blew a breath, more a resignation than spite.  "Fine.  I guess I'll need dinner at some point...  And it is nice of you, I'll admit."

Ridge's grin grew as he patted her on the shoulder to enforce it.  "You're one of us, B'Elanna.  Gotta show you a nice welcome so you don't regret it right away."

B'Elanna finally laughed, though she shook her head of it as they came to the end of the hold.  Dinner was later--and the station was decidedly cold.  The sooner she got her immediate errands done, the better.  "I also saw some decent tricorders up for offer," she said, "so I'd like you to go down and see what they'll take for one."

"If I trade off the extra converters," Ridge told her as they stepped over the threshold of the station docking clamps, "we might be able to add it to the pot and get the coils, too."

"We should get at least one in good shape without trading off stock we'll need sometime," she told him.  "I don't want to have to run to the upper deck every time I need to do a field stress analysis--and we need to have the spare converters if the others blow out."

"It'll put a strain on our budget if you go for everything at once," he warned her.  "Just 'cause things are good now doesn't mean it'll always be like that.  We have to plan ahead."

"All the more reason we shouldn't give up our spare converters," she told him and sighed.  "Look, Ridge--"

"I'll buy it."

B'Elanna swung around and saw the captain stepping over the hold, pulling a PADD of his own from the pocket of his coat as he sauntered through the bay.

Paris ignored the attention to activate his list and pull up the request for tricorders.  He'd already had one on his list.  Adding an extra one, he pursed his lips at the difference, then shrugged.  "I'm sure someone here owes me a favor," he said, passing by with only a glance their way.  "We'll take it out of my share."

"Thanks, Tom," Ridge said, then nudged B'Elanna as soon as she opened her mouth to protest.  "Let him."

She shot a stare up to him.  "I thought those things were supposed to come out of the ship's share."

"Tom always puts a part of his share in there," Ridge told her, shrugging.  "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth--especially when it makes him feel good.  Anyway, he's been saving up for one for a while."

Tom was several meters away by then and didn't look back or away from his PADD when he called, "You coming, B'Elanna?  Parts hunting?"

"Yes," she responded and sprung forward to catch up with him.  Looking back at Ridge, she told him, "Don't sell all our converters--just what you have to."

Ridge grinned and waved them off.  "Yes, ma'am.  Have fun."

Catching up to the captain, adjusting her usual quick pace to his careless stride, B'Elanna began typing on her PADD again.  "Maryl says you have some connections, that you might be able to introduce me to some of the vendors here."

"I can," he said.

She nodded.  "Good.  I'd like to get as much knocked off this list as possible, starting with the impulse coils."

"I'd save a little if I were you," Tom replied, his stare vaguely pointed at the familiar metal tube of an access port, tinged slightly orange with cheap lighting and old access panels.  "We can get the coils here, some maintenance parts; but the supplies at DS-Nine are generally a lot better if you can arrange them ahead of time and you should always keep a last-ditch reserve.  --Just speaking from experience."

"Yeah.  Maryl told me something about it."

A humorless snort escaped him.  "I'm sure she did."  Turning a corner, he finally averted his eyes from their path and peeked down to her inventory.  "Hmm."

B'Elanna scowled up at him.  "What's the problem?"

"You forgot the deuterium," he replied and turned ahead again.  "Not that it matters.  That's not available here--at least nothing you'd want to use."

"Let me guess," B'Elanna returned.  "DS-Nine."

"There's something to be said about Starfleet's taking over the station aside from kicking out the Cardassians:  We don't have to go to Starbase 211 or 351 to beg for it anymore.  Better still, we don't always have to deal with Starfleet at DS-Nine, which suits me just fine."

B'Elanna didn't glance up.  "That's right," she said blandly.  "You used to be an officer."

Tom did not reply, but raised his hand at just the right time to push the button for the lift as they came to the doors.  "You also forgot the drive plasma.  We'll be between stations that carry the good stuff for a while--and yes, that is one power supply that's good to get here."

That time, B'Elanna looked up.  "Oh?"

He nodded.  "They ship it out from the McAllister Nebula and process it at a floating facility near here," he told her.  "It's a pure supply that usually doesn't get much farther than Podala, since Gil made it his biggest side-profit.  Three-quarters of it is usually shipped back out to the Zedar Outpost."  He glanced at her frown as she began tapping into her PADD again.  "Don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried," she told him.

"I mean, you'll pick it up.  Podala's one of our most common stops, mainly because--"

"Because it's near Minjau," B'Elanna finished, not wanting to hear it again.

He could tell.  "Because it's in the middle of our usual route," he clarified, gesturing for her to go first when the lift doors opened.  "I'm impressed.  You stayed awake for Maryl's presentation."

"Barely," she replied, stepping into the lift.  Feeling the converse motion of the old-fashioned lift pull slightly at her gut, she leaned against the back wall.  "So, what's first?"  she asked, as much for distraction as curiosity.

"First we're going to the basement to see Kitu.  He's got a trade off waiting for me, but you'll have something to do, too."  With that, Tom punched in their destination.

"What's in the basement?"

"A private deal I've arranged.  I think I can trust you not to let on to Ridge or the others about it, Maryl especially.  She tends to hound Kitu, which makes him a little harder to get in touch with."

"A private deal?"  she queried, eying the plainly set face beside her as the decks whirred down around them.  She didn't have to ask what that could be.  Throughout their trip there, she'd heard the countdown of his liquor stash, a steady decrease the crew treated almost like a joke.  "Do I have to be there?"

"Probably not.  Again, you might be able to help, and you should meet Captain Kitu.  If there's a connection to be made outside Federation space, he'll make it--especially if you play a good game of dugrat...  You play cards?"

"No."

"Don't like it?"

"Never learned."

"I'll teach you," he offered.

She suppressed her smirk.  "No thanks.  I think I can get by with purchasing what I buy."

"Who says using one's winnings to make a deal isn't making a purchase?"

"I don't gamble."

"Maybe you're right," Tom smirked, turning forward again.  "You don't have much of a poker face."

B'Elanna's stare narrowed.  "I could if I chose to.  I just don't see the point in risking what you've got--and possibly end up losing more than you gain."

"That's assuming you have anything to lose when you sit down at the table."

She looked forward again.  "Thanks for the offer, but I'll pass."

"Fair enough.  Just let me know if you change your mind.  I'm sick of beating Jerod."

Closing her eyes for a moment at his swift kill of the topic, B'Elanna opened them again to see the control panel, where a blue indicator displayed their location--Deck 112, it read, and continued to tick off their descent as she pressed her back to the wall.  True, it was a tube-shaped station, but she didn't think she'd ever been so far down into the guts of anything before--quite a thought for an engineer. 

Finally, the lift ground to a stop.  Glancing to her side, she watched the captain slowly open his eyes, then press his elbow against the wall to propel himself forward as the doors opened.

"It's just around the corner," he told her, not looking back.

B'Elanna sighed and followed.  "I still don't know why you have to bring me along for something like this."

"I want you to meet Kitu," Tom reiterated.  He rolled his shoulders as he turned in the dim corridor, working out a knot, then slowed so she could catch up.  "Come in with me, not behind me," he said quietly.  "Last thing you want him to think is that I've got the only word in the process, even if he's dealing with me."

"Good point," she nodded, skipping two steps forward to pace herself at his side. 

The arching grate corridor, loud with the echoes of their boots and the thrushes of their clothing, opened into a small cargo hold, wherein a tawny-skinned Otralan stood, arms crossed and ready for them.  Above the garish collar of his black coat were a pointy chin and a thin mouth topped with an arching mustache.  Two dark, almond-shaped eyes sat above a thin nose, which twitched as they came closer.  Like a catfish, B'Elanna thought first, noting also how his eyes pinned on Tom and didn't waver to acknowledge her.  At his feet sat a number of stasis crates, all closed.

"How're you doing, Kitu?"  Tom said, giving him a nod.

"Well, Paris," the man replied.  His voice had the timbre of a cello.

"Kitu, this is Torres."

Finally, the man turned a respectful nod her way, but his attention went back to Tom as soon as his manners had been served.  "I have what you asked for." 

Tom glanced at the numerous crates.  "I only requested one."

A thin smile curled Kitu's lips.  "I don't want you coming after me again, complaining that you didn't get the full share of your winnings."  His hand drifted away from his other arm to gesture towards the box at his left foot.  "My contractors will take what they can get.  This one is yours."

Tom bowed his head slightly, then peered over to B'Elanna.  "I don't know about this.  Care to inspect the crystal yourself?"

She blinked, feeling her temples swell a little with the force it took her to catch up.  She stared up at Tom, whose expression said nothing but for her to get going with it.  "Yes," she blurted.  "Of course I do.  That's my job, isn't it?"

"It is at that," Tom grinned, returning his attention to Kitu.  "She's going to have a look at it, if you don't mind."

Blowing a breath through her nostrils, B'Elanna moved forward and knelt to open the case.  Erasing the remainder of her doubts about the nature of the deal, her eyes soon fell over the violet-white crystal in its protective casing.  She pursed her lips as she drew her stare over the clean indentation running from the center to the top of the rock.

"How much are you paying for this piece of crap?"  she demanded, turning a look back to her captain.  It was bad enough that he saw no problem in screwing around with her head, but thinking that slimy little dealer had the nerve to try to pass off cracked crystals to pay his debt spoke volumes about the trouble she'd had on former contract ships.  "It wouldn't last two weeks in our chamber."

Tom's squinted a stare askance at the trader.  "You heard the engineer.  It's crap.  Is this how you keep me from complaining?"

To her surprise, Kitu laughed.  "I see I've got a real customer today."

"A real customer who's not getting paid up with worse than we've got," Tom replied with a shrug.  "Or you could just give me the latinum and I'll wait until we're at DS-Nine to get what we need."

Kitu's smile disappeared.  Obviously, he'd already tried to sway the captain from that option.  He caught B'Elanna's stare again.  "Very well, engineer.  Choose which crystal you like best.  --But that will be the end of any debt to you, Paris."

"Until I whip your butt at the table again," Tom returned.  He gave B'Elanna a nod.  "Go ahead, B'Elanna.  It's your call.  We're not desperate."

B'Elanna bit her tongue to prevent replying and scooted over to the other cases, opening each, one by one, then closing them a moment later as soon as she spotted the flaws.  In all fairness, they were better than the first sample, and she knew the hairline cracks and uneven cuts weren't too unusual.  Dilithium usually had to be adjusted by hand before being installed in a chamber, anyway.  But if she had to play through that ridiculous meeting, she wasn't about to make it easy on either of them.

After looking through the ninth case, she growled to herself and shook her head.  "These all look like they were shaped with a mallet," she stated, standing again.  "I'd be surprised if they weren't Barian quartz instead of what we need."

"It is dilithium," Kitu told her, frowning.

"It's no use to us," B'Elanna returned, turning to return to Tom's side.  "I don't like any of them."

"DS-Nine it is, then," Tom concluded with a nod.  "Sorry, Kitu, but I guess you'll have to scrape up the latinum.  I'll collect next time I'm--"

"Wait," Kitu said tiredly.  Moving to the back of the room, he pulled out another case.  "No one on Kakabo knows anything about high-yield."  Presenting it to the woman standing by the other cases, he held her eyes.  "If you please." Glancing at Tom, B'Elanna reached out and opened the case in Kitu's hands.  She tried hard not to smile as her gaze drove over that sample.  Wide and well ridged, the crystal looked like a watered-down amethyst.  There were almost no chisel marks, not a single fracture.  She wasn't sure what it should cost on the open market, but she knew it was worth a hefty investment.  Then again, Kitu hadn't brought it because it was beyond his debt.  He'd wanted to see if Paris was dumb enough to take less.

Rather, she realized as she reached into the casing and turned the crystal over, Tom was actually smart enough to bring an "expert" along, even when he claimed he didn't have to.  He probably would have toyed with Kitu on his own if she hadn't been there.

"That's more like it," she said, turning a short nod Tom's way.

Tom finally took a step forward and looked at the crystal for himself.  "That's worth more than you owe me," he noted, reaching into his bag.  "We'll take it, with two bars as change.  It's all I have on hand."

B'Elanna blinked and stared up at him.

"I'd like our debt to be settled, after all," he concluded before she could speak, "not transferred back to me."

Kitu's smile returned as he waved off Paris' effort.  "Buy me a drink sometime and we'll be even."

"That should be easy enough to do," Tom said, gesturing to B'Elanna to take the case.  "Until then, Kitu."

As they turned toward the lift, and slowing just enough that she could meet his stride, he nodded to the case and opened a roomy satchel he'd been carrying on his shoulder.  "Stick it in there.  We don't want to advertise."  She did so, dropping the case in and immediately moving away from him.  That done, he resumed his pace.

For her part, B'Elanna managed to wait until they were in the turbolift and the doors were closed before turning a glare towards the captain. 

Tom turned a satisfied smirk her way.  "See?  A game every now and again isn't so useless after all." 

"Getting what we need to survive out there isn't a game!"  she snapped.  "Why the hell didn't you tell me we were going for dilithium?"

"You did come with me to go supply hunting, didn't you?"

"But you didn't tell me what it was!"

"So?  Should it matter?  What did you think I was going to the basement for?"

She shook her head with frustration.  "Don't expect me to come on any more deals with you if you don't plan to prepare me.  I don't like surprises."

"So I'm noticing."  He shrugged.  "Not that I blame you, but you're pretty wound up over a good deal."

"I'm supposed to be wound up about keeping us going, if I remember correctly."

Tom gave her another look.  "If I'd told you exactly what we were dealing for, you'd have gone in with a field of expectations.  He'd have never offered us what we got if you'd looked like you were asking for it upfront.  I would've held out for the latinum if I hadn't had you with me and he'd offered me the same crap--which he would have.  But I did have you, so I decided to give it a shot."

Her arms crossed upon her ribs.  "Fine.  You're the captain."  That said, she hardened her stare and added, "But I don't appreciate being toyed with.  You can screw with all the dealers you want.  But if you want me on your side, you won't do that again."

Tom gave her a single nod.  "Okay.  Sorry if that upset you."  Watching her return the nod and turn forward again.  "I'll take Savan next time I need a ringer."

B'Elanna bit her tongue as that filtered in.

With nothing to say and little to look at even as they left the lift and headed back through the access corridor, she couldn't help but notice the way his hand remained casually clutched on top of his old-fashioned satchel, insuring no one would dip inside it.  The arm of his rumpled brown coat had a singe mark on it--a phaser shot?  She hadn't seen that before.  His pace was more like an upbeat stroll, covering a lot of distance in the dim, gray hall.  Skipping a step to catch up with him, she glanced up to see his face set as always, surveying his path without any discernible emotion, though he did cast a glance through an entrance to a golden-lit promenade as they passed it. 

"Wonder if they've replaced the table since we last passed through," he thought aloud.

That time, her brow furrowed.  "What table?"

His lips twisted up.  "We'll find out soon enough."

They stopped a bit short of the docking levels, but as soon as she opened her mouth to ask, Paris turned towards an open storage bay busy with traders and other captains, all buzzing in low tones as they clicked on beat up PADDs and looked through the stores. 

"Next up is a flux sensor pallet for Jerod to play with," Tom said, not looking back.  "Do you need a metallurgical breakdown before we go in, or should I take care of it this time?"
 

---

 

It began as a pinging aft; then it turned into a thrumming, rhythmic and growing louder by the second.  Then it was accompanied by a sporadic grumble and hiss.

Maryl, taking the opportunity to relax in her husband's big arms as they waited for a communication from Jerod, turned an eye towards the sound and couldn't help but snicker.

Quickly approaching was their new engineer, returning not two hours after leaving with the captain.  Her fists were clenched, one around the strap of the captain's black satchel; her dark eyes were bolted on her path and she was mumbling several pejoratives under her breath.  Even her hair seemed to be sticking out at odd angles for all her fury.  Her boot heels all but slammed holes in the deck as she made her way into the bay.

"The captain is impossible!" she snarled as she came near her technician and the Bajoran.  "If he wants to make any more deals on Podala, you go with him.  I'm not about to waste my time being hung on a wire like some damned toy while he gets his entertainment screwing around with every other vendor on the station!"

"Dom-jot or rummy?"  Ridge asked.

"Dom-jot!"  B'Elanna spat.  "That bastard bet our primary pressure regulator for three out of four games!"

Maryl managed to stifle her grin.  "What'd he win?"

B'Elanna blew a breath.  "Three new tricorders--but what the hell's the use of those without a regulator to scan?"  Growling again, she yanked the bag strap on her shoulder.  "Connections, my ass!"  With that and a jerk of her head, she started towards the engine room. 

Ridge craned his head to look after her.  "Starting the installations already?" 

"Yes--going back to something I can deal with," she returned.  "You don't have to come.  I'll call you when I need you."

She was already gone by the time Ridge said, "Okay."

Maryl cut her eyes up to Ridge.  "That didn't take long, did it?"

"You did warn her."

"No warning's enough sometimes," she returned, straightening her posture with mock importance.  "Sometimes, you just have to embrace the experience."

"Poor cricket," he laughed and gave his wife a peck on the head.  "Nice to know Tom's in a good mood, though.  He hasn't played dom-jot in a few months."

"It's nicer to know he got some decent scanning equipment," Maryl told him, "since we'd never have bought it with everything else we needed to pay for, plus a new employ to divvy out to.  Those old, Bolian cubes were making you blind." 

"It'll be nice to read a diagnostic again," Ridge agreed.

"Once B'Elanna re-teaches you how to, that is," Maryl snorted.  The comm beeped at a nearby panel and she leaned away from Ridge and walked over to tap the receiver.  "Guerdon."

"*Hey, Maryl.  I've got some purchases to deliver.*" It was Paris.

"Speak of the devil," Maryl mewed.  "Your new engineer just blazed a trail of plasma through here a minute ago.  Ridge is repairing the deck as we speak."

"*She doesn't believe in gambling,*" Tom dismissed.  "*Did she go to the engine room?*"

"Yes."

"*Okay.  I'll beam it there.*"

"You know, Tom," Ridge said, "You really should try to give the kid a break.  She's not used to things, and her being excited about getting started and all..."  He left the rest open for interpretation.

Pausing, Tom leaned back on the crates he'd just signed off on.  "Guess she managed to bring out the worst in me, Ridge," he said.  "I'll see what I can do."

Setting his flask on the edge of the counter, Tom picked up the brand new tricorders he'd won and set them on top of the pile.  He was actually proud of himself, despite his new engineer's disapproval--not that it should have surprised him.  What she probably didn't know was that pressure regulators were a lot easier to find than good tricorders--and cheaper.  The idiot he'd been playing with probably had a black market stock of scanners.  If it was a risk in the first place, it was a worthy one.  It sure made up for the expense of the coils, which had easily taken up three-quarters of the ship's pot.  Any more large purchases in the next month, he knew, would need to be funded from his own savings.

That in mind, Tom took up one of the tricorders and activated its note function, then wrote:

Fishing for your anti-grav.
  Won't bet the nacelles this time around.
  Will contact you later for routine sign off.
  Have fun with the coils. 

-TEP

Reading it over, he nodded to himself and set in on top of the other two, then went back to pick up his flask and call out to the transporter worker, "Beam it over to our deck two tray.  My engineer's ready for it."

Two minutes later, B'Elanna eyes focused on the tricorder's display.  To her credit, she only sighed and erased the message.

"Whatever," she muttered and began to unlock the crates with a few concerted whacks of a half-functional hyperspanner.

She and Tom had perused several racks of coils and fittings in the Podala stock.  Barely listening to the price lists and handing the inventory to her, he decided to "think about it a while" and took them back to the lounge area.  Not an hour after he'd made her feel like an ass in front of Captain Kitu, his thought process dipped into the flask he'd had in his inside coat pocket, started a "friendly" game at the dom-jot table with a half-drunk Kendan smuggler, and then promptly wagered the parts from the engine she was trying to fix.

"Asshole," she grumbled.

Opening one of the crates, though, her shoulders fell a little to see the shiny black half-circles, pure duranium coating verterium cortenide, half a meter long each, with hand-tooled notch seals and extra thick stress plates on either end.

B'Elanna released her breath.

Her captain had bought the best coils in stock.
 

---

 

Four hours after she opened the first case, four of the coils had already been liberated.  Crouching within the assembly below the hulking drive manifold, she yanked and replaced the heads from the next section--and as quickly as possible.  Ridge was supporting the generator on its swing hinges, above and just out of the way of the driver.  Old as the contraption was, stupid as an accessibility design could be, a slip of his big hands could pop the hinge system and bury her in a thirty centimeter high tomb until Ridge could manage to crank it up again.

In the corner of her eye, B'Elanna noticed Savan slowly enter the scene.  "How are you progressing, B'Elanna?"  the Vulcan asked.  Her tone was curious but careful to distract the work.

"Pretty well," she answered with a grunt as she wheeled the new coil in place, then grabbed another.  She could hear Ridge's breath by then.  "Getting some of the cleaning and refitting done ahead of time helped.  I'll have this done by tomorrow; the filters done before we leave."

"May I assist?"

"You can make sure Ridge doesn't drop the generator on my head," she answered, surveying the coil alignment with her equally new tricorder.

Savan gave a nod and lowered herself to add her hands to the effort.  "This work has put you in good spirits," she commented.

"Nothing like working with parts worth working with."

"It is fortunate that Tom was able to find a good set at an affordable price."

"I hate to admit it, but he did pretty well," B'Elanna said, then ducked down to close the coil housing.  The driver head complete, it was just a matter of digging in from the top.  Reaching for the grate and kicking a leg up to the level, she pulled herself out of the pit, got to her feet and grabbed the lever end of the driver section.  "Okay Ridge--Savan, you too--let's ease it back into place, until it locks again.  Don't let go.  I don't trust these swing hinges."

"Smart kid," Ridge grinned and grunted as he shifted the assembly around.

Shaking a bead of sweat from the corner of his eye, Ridge hiked himself from his knees to a crouch as the cylindrical assembly's hinges groaned for lack of use, and its burden slowly swung above its home.  To his memory, Livich had never dug that deep into the impulse drive--and he correctly suspected he'd be lifting the thing out of place again, now that B'Elanna had gotten a good look at those hinges.  Grinning to himself at that thought, he finally released enough to let the contraption click into place.  The lower housings connected with the hinges, from which point, they could gently set the driver back into place against the main coil assembly with the help of the crane.

B'Elanna took it from there, guiding the assembly down into the deck in tandem with the automated system.  It whined and ground harder than it did when it was pulling the generator up.  B'Elanna's mouth turned down as she stopped it for a moment to check the alignment.

"*Paris to Guerdon*"

Ridge hopped over to a wall panel and punched the comm.  "Yeah, Tom.  What's up?"

"*Is B'Elanna there?  I have some paperwork she needs to sign off on.*"

"I'll let her know."

"*I also have some drive plasma I need to deal for.  She might want to get in on it.  If she's not listening right now, tell her I'll be good this time.*"

"I'll tell her, but she probably won't believe me," Ridge chuckled.

Tom breathed what sounded like a half-laugh in response, then said, "*Have her meet me in admin in about a half hour.*"

"Will do."  With that, Ridge clicked off the comm and looked back to the engineer, still moving around the assembly with a frown.  "Good news, B'Elanna!  You get to meet Gil on your first day in."

"I'm busy," B'Elanna called as she knelt on the deck to see if the crane wasn't jerking the alignment again.

"You should go," Savan suggested, still watching the procedure.

"I still have to pull and inventory the rest of the cases," Ridge added.  "You can afford a break.  It won't take long to sign off and stop in with a couple more vendors.  I can finish the inventory in the mean time, send the junk for recycling."

B'Elanna sighed, wiping her brow with the back of her hand.  "He doesn't really need me there, does he?"

"For tetryon waste sign off, he does."

"I can't go in later?"

"It is likely a time which suits both the station manager and our captain," Savan stated, turning her gaze slightly as she continued, "Or is it that you might have a problem being with them?"  She caught and held B'Elanna's return attention.  "I suspected Tom's manner of making deals might be strange to you at first, despite the errand's successes.  However, I can understand why you would not want to repeat the experience so soon."

"I have work to do," B'Elanna deflected, driving her stare back down to what she was doing.  "That's all I'm thinking about right now."

"Indeed."

"A lot more if we get the rest of those housing junctures."

"Which requires more arrangements with other vendors."  Savan let an appropriate pause pass.  Her brow flicked slightly and she drew a breath.  "Would you like me to ask Jerod to take over your duty?"

B'Elanna's eyes popped back up.  "I didn't say I wouldn't go," she responded.  "Just because it's incredibly inconvenient right now doesn't mean I need other people to do it for me."

"Forgive me.  I misinterpreted you."  Savan offered a slight bow of her head.  "Ridge and I will finish inventorying this shipment.  They will be ready for you when you return, hopefully with the remainder of the parts we require."
 

---

 

Tom snorted when she told him--her response to his surprise to see her waiting for him in administration, which he'd put off as long as possible.

"Savan has that way about her," he acknowledged.  "Problem is, she's good at it.  --Don't look so put off.  You're not the only one to get the Professor's treatment."

B'Elanna snorted.  "Yeah, Maryl's already called her that."

"Actually, it's one of Ridge's terms of affection.  Between Ridge and Jerod, everyone has one.  If we get him sauced enough tomorrow night, he'll let loose and you'll get them all."

"I don't know whether to be anxious or scared," she grinned.

"Scared if Jerod's the one who coined it," he told her.  Opening his arm for her to go ahead, he leaned a little towards her as he told her, "We'll make this as quick as possible, okay?  Gil's got the paperwork.  All you have to do is make sure the levels look right, put your thumb to it, give it to me and say goodbye.  Then we'll head down for some drive plasma and hopefully an anti-grav, maybe a few other things.  We'll see."

"You haven't found an anti-grav?"  she asked, incredulous.  For everything else he'd gotten on a seeming whim, such a common apparatus evading him seemed strange.

"They have them here, but they're not worth the price they're asking.  Most of them are used; others just aren't what we want, either too big or not powerful enough.  I'd like to try a few more people before I give in."

B'Elanna nodded.  "Fair enough."  Looking ahead, she saw through the glass the station manager preening as he inspected his monitors, then sliding his finger over the top of one.  Turning and noticing the incoming traders, he straightened, repositioned himself more suitably to receive them, then wiped a loose strand of hair behind his ear.  B'Elanna turned a weary look back to the captain.

"Fortunately, they're not all like that," Tom told her, "for the most part."  He moved to open the door for her, knowing Gil wouldn't make the move from the inside.

Rather, the manager bowed from where he was.  "Ah, Captain Paris.  Good afternoon."

"Hey, Gil," Tom nodded as he strode a few more paces in, flicking a glance over the conspicuously neat workspaces.  "Where's the paperwork?"

"Always your charming anachronisms, Paris," Gil grinned, "and never having enough time to stop and talk."

"I've usually got a few things to do when I get here."

"Perhaps I should rather meet you at the bar."

"Maybe you should," Tom replied, finally meeting Gil's attention.  "We could play some more poker.  It's been a while since you've given me an account--which I don't remember spending in full, since you were on holiday last time I came through, and nobody seemed to know about our arrangement."  Tom nodded to himself.  "Yeah, you and I should get together and have a talk."

Gil turned his attention to B'Elanna.  "Ms.  Torres," he smiled, "it's both an honor and a pleasure to have a woman of such beauty and expertise on my station.  Are you familiar with Podala?  Have you had a tour of the facilities?  I hope my staff has made you feel welcome."

"My captain's shown me around a little," B'Elanna told him.  "What I'd really like to see is the tetryon waste figures so I can get back to my repairs."

Gil's smile flickered only briefly as he reached back for the data in question.  When he held it out, B'Elanna moved forward, took the PADD without asking, then moved away from the man to study it.

"You've chosen your new engineer well, Paris," Gil commented, watching with obvious appreciation as she scrolled through the data tables.  "I'm certain you two will be very compatible."

"I wouldn't have hired her otherwise," Tom replied.

"You and Livich didn't get on too well, I recall."

"Not my doing.  She came with the ship.  --How's it looking, B'Elanna?"

She shook her head.  "The numbers are off."

"Conversion problems, Ms.  Torres," Gil said.  "I'm certain they can be worked out."

She turned a plain stare back at him.  "I'll send the figures to you again, then."

"That won't be necessary," Gil said, his smile pressing up into his eyes.  "I can simply credit you later, when I've recalculated the data Ledge sent me."

"The data Ridge sent you were fine," B'Elanna responded.  "I checked them myself."

Gill didn't rise to her agitation, but held his smile and condescended her with a polite bow.  "Perhaps you believed it so, but the interpretation is just what you see, and my systems are at peak efficiency.  Nevertheless, I am willing to look over the calculations, perhaps tomorrow, after our port inspections."

Paris shook his head.  "Don't think that'll work, Gil.  I happen to be busy trying to get the Guerdon back on the track, so is my engineer, and I'm not paying you a half-slip more than absolutely necessary to recycle our waste.  I think, instead, you need to fix your conversion problem and re-issue the sign off here and now."

"Better yet," B'Elanna supplied, finally catching on and moving to face the manager, "you can show me your scale and I'll do the math.  Does that sound okay to you?"

Gil released a resigned sigh.  "Captain Paris, we're old friends, or I'd like to think..."  Stopping upon Paris' raised brow and frown, he tried again.  "Recycling takes up a great deal of power and labor on my end, as you well know--"

"And the surplus power you gain by recycling it puts you ahead few gigajoules per transfer," B'Elanna cut in.

Gil laughed lightly.  "Obviously, my dear lady, you don't know the extent of our power requirements.  --But be that as it may, since I may indeed owe you a small credit here on Podala, consider the charge null, to clear that off our minds and as a gift of welcome to Ms. Torres."

Tom turned a glance towards B'Elanna's disgusted, but otherwise quiet response.  "Sounds fine to me," he said.  "Clear the invoice and B'Elanna'll sign off on it."

The manager did just that.  B'Elanna rechecked his changes to make sure he'd indeed voided the charge, then pressed her thumb to it.  "Thanks," she said and moved to lead the way out the door.

"I appreciate it, Gil," Tom added, trying hard not to look as pleased as he was that it'd been that easy.

Watching the man back off a step and prepare to turn, Gil cleared his throat.  "You might want to know," he said, "that Dejin and her crew are visiting, looking for business."

That managed to hold Tom for the moment.  "I thought she was dealing around Jaros."

"The opportunity to fulfill her talents there dissolved, I heard."

"Federation regulation," Tom clarified with a thoughtful nod.  "But you know if she wants to throw some deals around the table, she'll already know I'm here.  You didn't need to tell me."

"She had an eye out for you," Gil grinned, "as always.  Give her my regards, when you see her."

"Yeah, thanks again."  Turning again, Tom gestured B'Elanna to continue on her way out.  He followed two paces behind her then returned to her side in the corridor.  His mouth pursed with thought as soon as the bridge office's lighting had left them.  "Wonder what she's doing this far north," he mused aloud.

"Who's Dejin?"  B'Elanna asked.

"Yet another Starfleet dropout making a living off the frontier," Tom told her as he steered them down the central platform and straight towards the promenade.  "She wheels and deals in about anything she gets her hands on, usually on the outer end of non-Federation space.  She's got all the contacts you could dream for on the other end of the border, but she doesn't usually hit Podala unless she's got something cooking."

"Do you think she has something for us?"

"To offer and to ask for, knowing her," he answered.  Turning onto the promenade, Tom crossed his hands behind his back and continued, "She'll probably have those converters, new ones, and your nodes--and you can deal for those, B'Elanna.  She's not always cheap, so only get as much as we need.  But we like giving her our money."

B'Elanna turned a look up at him.

"She's one of the good guys," Tom clarified.  At the bar, he extended his hand to let her lead the way.  "We'll stop here, get something to drink and make a couple inquiries."

She looked around as they crossed to the bar.  "Is this Dejin here?"

"She will be.  She knows where to find me--and she usually will when she finds out we're on the same station."

Sliding onto a stool, Tom nodded to the bartender, a healthy, grayed Bajoran man with a towel slung over his shoulder and a PADD in his pocket.  The captain had a tall glass of deep red ale a few seconds later.  Sliding a portion of latinum across the bar, Tom jerked a nod at B'Elanna.  "Get her what she wants and transport the remainder of what this buys to our cargo bay.  No rum this time.  That stuff makes me sick."

"We have another few cases of Salrian whiskey on hand."

"Sounds all right.  Ask around about a reliable and reasonable anti-grav unit while you're at it and you'll get a finder's fee.  I can't manage to get anything out of the usual crowd.  Also, if you can get your hands on some of Gil's drive plasma at a cut rate, I'd appreciate it.  You know he'll try to rob me for it."

"I'll see what I can do."

B'Elanna turned a stare over to the captain.  "Tricorders at the dom-jot table and drive plasma from a bar," she said, more to herself as she shook her head.  "I'm the one who'll have to work with it, you know."

The bartender grinned at her comments.  "You're new."

Tom snorted at the lip of his mug.  "God, I don't miss that."

"Not that new," B'Elanna argued, ignoring the man beside her.

The other man merely smiled at her hard stare.  "New enough not to know who knows everyone's stocks and cargo," he replied, then pushed a coaster towards her.  "What would you like?"

Still processing his condescending remark, she shook her head.  "Anything.  Water.  I've got to work later."

Tom grinned.  "Get her some fahal tea.  --You'll like it, B'Elanna.  Very flavorful with a little zip."

"I don't want a 'zip' right now," she replied.

"It's not a drink drink.  Just citrus tea."  Tom gave the bartender a nod to go and get it, then took a long sip of his ale.  Resting his elbows on the maroon granite surface, he said, "That's Tibin Jall, by the way.  He used to run a nice little trade ring off Dreon before the Bajoran provisional government had something to say about it.  Contrary to what he'd like to believe, he doesn't know everything.  But he's a good contact who'll find out all he can for you when you're willing to be generous.  I wouldn't give him any more information than you're willing to have thrown around, though."

B'Elanna nodded.  "Doesn't sound unusual for a bartender."

"He's worth knowing, though.  Nadrev came on board as a part-time hire thanks to Tibin.  The person and the timing were both better than I've had in a long time--before you came along, anyway."

Catching his small laugh as he pulled another sip, B'Elanna let herself grin at the quasi-compliment, then nodded to accept her tea from Tibin.  It wasn't steaming, but the long, metal-framed glass felt warm to the touch.  Eying the suspicious burgundy liquid, briefly sniffing it, she brought it to her lips.  She blinked at the strong citrus flavor, took another sip.

"This is good," she commented quietly, looking at Paris.  "Thanks--for the tea and the information."

"I learn quickly, too," he returned, meeting her eyes as he moved his glass in a small toast her way.  "Thank you, too, for getting under Gil's skin up there," he added, leaning in a little with a conspiratorial smirk.  "You handled him like a pro and got us our tetryon dump for free to boot.  Maryl will be so proud."

She laughed a little, but said nothing more on it.  Maybe it was the tea, and likely it was his ale, but she could swear she felt his warmth when he leaned near to her.  He hadn't been so relaxed around her yet.  It was a nice change.  Better, he was bothering to make up for earlier that day. 

Joining his mood, she let herself relax as well, resting against the back of the stool and letting her eyes roam across the lounge.  Nothing unusual was there.  Just the same slit-eyed traders, husky captains and dusty crew, the same steady, drone of conversation and clinking glasses.  All but one.  One man, dark haired, huskily built and standing near the back entrance of the lounge, caught her eyes and straightened at her attention.  He slipped what looked like an isolinear chip into the pocket of his brown leather vest, and then glanced again at the man beside her.

"I think someone wants you, Tom," she said.

Tom turned.  "Who?"

"There's a man over..."  As she spoke, the dark man moved out of the lounge and disappeared in the corridor.  B'Elanna furrowed her brow.  "I could swear he was looking at us."

"Probably one of the suppliers," Tom told her, trying to see what she'd seen for a moment before giving up and returning to his ale.  "They all know I come here, but he probably saw you with me and didn't want to be overheard, you know?"

"Makes sense."  Letting it go, she drew another sip of her tea and asked, "So, is Gil always that slimy?"  she queried.

"Usually," Tom answered.  "You get used to it.  After a while, it's actually fun to watch him squirm his way out of his holes."

B'Elanna smiled.  "Guess you were having fun back there, then?"

"More than you know," he answered, not hiding the satisfaction in his tone.  When he brought the glass back to his lips, however, his eyes narrowed and focused on something past her, on the other end of the bar.  Pulling and swallowing his drink once again, he set down his glass and slid off the barstool.

"Well, if they aren't still recruiting Academy brats," came a smooth alto from behind B'Elanna, who turned to see the woman still walking in, slowly extending her hand to meet Tom's.  Her height was almost equal to his; her long blonde hair, tied back into a tight braid, laid in direct opposition to her black eyes, tan skin and dark clothing.  Both her posture and her grin showed an unchecked confidence.  Another trader.  "What happened, Paris?  Someone soak you in lye while I was gone?"

"Jerod's been fiddling with the sonic showers in his spare time," Tom shrugged.  "Good to see they haven't caught up with you yet, Dejin."

"One of these days, but not today," she replied, turning her gaze with her next thought.  "I heard you'd finally crawled back onto the route after Livich gave you a so-long screw.  Glad to see you're still in one piece."

"Nice to know someone still cares."

"Just good customer service."  With a laugh, he conceded, and so she glanced behind him to the woman looking intently on.  "She's with you?"

Tom nodded quickly.  "Yeah.  This is B'Elanna Torres, Guerdon's new engineer."

Dejin's brows rose with a fresh smile.  "Fast work, there, Paris.  I'm impressed."  She stuck her hand out.  "Dejin Hirro," she told B'Elanna.  "It's nice to meet you."

B'Elanna returned a polite nod as she shook the woman's cool hand.

"She'll be making the deals today," Tom told Dejin.  "It's her engine room now."

She blinked another look of surprise, then let it fade to a sincere grin as she bowed to the engineer.  "Excellent."  Climbing up onto a stool on the other side of B'Elanna, she pulled a few PADDs out of her tunic pocket and snapped her fingers toward the bartender.  "Tibin!  Would you get me a-- That your usual, Paris?  --Looks good.  Get me a Korian ale, too."  She smiled at B'Elanna.  "Always good on a clammy day.  Gil's been screwing with the environmental controls again.  Use less power and drive people to the bar, likely."

B'Elanna blinked to realize the truth in it.  "I hadn't thought to ask."

"Gil never fails to surprise even us, so don't even bother asking.  He'll slide through another few idiot schemes before you come back through.  --But we're not here for that, and I'll apologize right now:  I don't have much time tonight.  I've got to prep one of my shuttles for a speed run to Gimol."

Tom gave her a look as he retrieved his drink.  "That's interesting," he commented.  "The Gimolians or a faction?"

"My Gimolian contact has a pickup," she answered.  "Jirren's running it up for me tomorrow."

"Give him my regards," Tom nodded, knowing better than to ask anything else.  Even if he wanted to know, he knew she wouldn't say.  "B'Elanna has a list.  I'll be at the tables."

B'Elanna jerked her head around to see he was already halfway through the room.

"I do want to talk to you later," Dejin told him, casually, familiarly, as she activated a PADD, "catch up with life before you take off."

Tom didn't need a translation.  "We'll be here for another day and a bit, and you know where I live.  Savan wouldn't mind you dropping by, either."

"Tomorrow morning sound all right?"

"Yeah.  Let Savan know when.  She'll wake me up."

"I will.  Good luck."  As he continued away, Dejin pulled another grin onto her lips as she scrolled her inventories and nodded her thanks to Tibin when her ale arrived.  "My money's on a new navigation array," she said, turning her attention back to the departing captain.

Tibin laughed.  "Still?  --You'd better arrange to get back to the Guerdon on your own, Torres.  He'll be here a while."

"Won't be the first time today," B'Elanna replied.

"Oh, you'd better get used to that," Dejin chuckled.  "I've known Tom for on and off eight years now, since long before he got stuck with that rig, when he had what looked like a life.  Since he's gotten it, though, I've known two things:  One, no matter how much it seems otherwise, when he bothers to play, he plays to win.  Two, he's always wanted a new nav array for the Guerdon.  If he's snob about anything in this universe, B'Elanna, it'd be about a ship's handling--even on that flower box he's forced to fly.  One of these days, he'll get himself in a good enough position to wager for it."  With that, she pulled a long sip of her ale.  "So what do you think, now?  Think he's feeling it?"

B'Elanna glanced as the captain made his way into the smoky recesses of the lounge, patting a couple shoulders on the way as he eyed each table.  "He mentioned wanting one a few days ago, but he didn't say anything about it today."

Dejin laughed lightly.  "I'll bet you a brand new ramscoop he's thinking about it--the array surrounded by a new ship.  But we take what we can get, don't we?  Tom sure does."  She nodded to B'Elanna's PADD.  "Anyway, enough of that.  What do you have there?  I'll see what I can do while he's suckering rookies to pay for whatever they've got--and if I can't I'll give you a few connections."

"The captain says we'll have to wait it out for DS-Nine on a few of these," she told her.

Dejin scanned the chemicals section.  "True.  Better supply, Starfleet regulated, though Gil's drive plasma is pretty good.  Tibin's probably better to take care of that.  Tom ask him already, you know?" 

"He did."

"We'll see what Tibin gets before I ask around myself."  Glancing down, Dejin nodded quickly and tapped on her PADD.  "The emission tubes, distributors and all these filters are in stock...  My, my, you're not just in love, you're getting married."  Her eyes scanned through her inventory again.  "Give me just another minute and I'll work out a price list."

B'Elanna nodded and let the woman work.

Blinking at the silence, Dejin glanced up.  "Right off, I like you, Torres."

"Why?"

"You're not trying to deal me already."

"I can't make a deal until you give me an opening offer, right?  And even then, I either can take it or not take it."

The smile returned to Dejin's lips.  "Let's hope I can make you a fair deal, then.  Mind if I work up a price list and transmit it to you later?  You'll need converters for a lot of this stuff, considering the can of worms you're working with."

"That'd be fine.  Thanks."

"No problem.  --And if you can't buy it right now, I'll hold it for a while if you want.  The Guerdon's one ship I'd like to see out of trouble and on the upswing if at all possible, particularly of late."  She looked down again to finish her own list.  "You sure have your hands full," she said meaningfully.

B'Elanna merely shrugged at the other woman's quizzical tone.  "It'll get cleaned up soon enough."

Dejin's mouth turned aside.  "It just might this time.  You consider upgrading your deflector grids?"

B'Elanna grinned.  "My hands are full, remember?  The shields just got an upgraded generator this week, so they're running pretty well right now.  Besides, the pot can't afford it with everything else on the short list.  Maybe later."

"I might be able to work something out for you."  Seeing B'Elanna's distracted nod, Dejin nodded to herself.  "Yeah, you're right.  One thing at a time."  She turned back to her inventories.

Glancing to the dark lounge again, B'Elanna noticed the captain pulling a chair and placing his ale glass on a table and nodding to the other men there, then kicking back in the seat as he was dealt a hand.  A grin ghosted over her lips.

"On second thought, I'll get back to you on that."
 

---

 

The first round of the Guerdon's business crawled up the lift in cases, one by one in plain gray, space-worthy crates.  Only a small plate on each end defined them.  Inspected by Savan and relabeled as assigned to a hold by Maryl, Jerod tapped in the bay number and transported the crates accordingly.  More fragile stock unable to handle dematerialization by the outdated transporter were loaded on top of a chunky, automated hand truck and led into the appropriate bay by Ridge.  Bio-sensitive crates were sent to a special hold on deck four forward.  Savan inspected those, sent her report to the suppliers, then took them back herself.

Wiping down her arms with a yellow solvent sheet Jerod had given to her, B'Elanna came in as Savan left with the step truck and the last crate.  She looked around as Maryl checked off the list with Paris, Jerod and Ridge folded up the floor conveyor.

"Anything I can do?"  she asked.

Ridge waved her over.  "Lock it up when we get it turned in?"

She immediately moved to the end of the conveyor and crouched down as Jerod pulled the end over and Ridge snapped it together.  B'Elanna grabbed the locks and snapped them, securing the flaps.  Ridge then pulled the contraption onto his shoulder and lugged it into the corner by the cargo lock opening.  Securing it to the wall, he clapped his hands at B'Elanna.

"Borrow your sheet?"  He caught the yellow sheet a moment later and wiped the grunge off his hands with a few wipes.  Then, pulling the corners with a couple snaps, the grime disappeared, revealing a fresh yellow cloth.  Shaking his head, Ridge tossed the sheet back to B'Elanna.  "Jerod, where you find this stuff, I'll never guess."

The comm tech grinned and shrugged.  "I have my sources."

"Nonsense," Maryl scoffed, clicking on her PADD.  "They're common as rain on Miga-five.  They sponge down their babies with them.  Ridge, where have you been?"

"In the engine room, dear," he answered faithfully.  "I won't ask why you didn't get me any, either."

"Damn, Maryl," Jerod sighed.  "Can't get a break with you, can I?"

"Since when did you start expecting it?"  she replied and gave Paris the PADD.  "Done."

"I'll take it to Gil, then," he said, then glanced towards the engineer.  "Unless you'd rather pay him some more compliments, B'Elanna.  I'm sure he'd enjoy it."

"I think I have some nacelle coils I need to scrub down," she replied with a smirk.

"Actually, Dejin's going to have your list ready soon," Maryl said.

"I know.  I'm meeting her in a while to go over it."

Tom nodded.  "Shoot the figures over to me and put the parts in priority order and I'll sign off on what we can get.  You won't have to go back and forth that way.  If there's a problem, I'll let you know."

"Good idea," B'Elanna said.  "Thanks."

He nodded again and left through the cargo lock.

B'Elanna hardly noticed him go that time.
 

---

 

"That just about does it, then," Dejin smiled, clicking off the items to be delivered to the Guerdon's upper bay, where Ridge and Jerod would inventory and store it.  "Always nice doing business with Paris and company."

"I've heard the same about you."

Dejin snorted.  "He always was a flirt."

B'Elanna shrugged.

"Oh, I know, he's deadwood now, but back in the day, he'd charm you right out of your tool belt.  And he still knows how to pay a compliment."  She clicked through the last of the list and sent it off to her first mate.  "So it's done.  Quite a good day at the store, and you only had a few to save for later."

"It'll be a good start," B'Elanna nodded.  "As long as I can get the warp drive running with some efficiency, I'll be able to move on to other issues for a while."

"I will try to get you those constrictors parts, catch up with you on the other side of the loop, since we're going in approximately the same direction."

"The constrictors should manage a while longer when I get the secondaries cleaned out," B'Elanna told her.  "Now that I've got those new coils and the plasma filters installed, I'll be able to focus on that."

"Gil's drive plasma is surprisingly pure, too, so you won't have as much more corrosion."

"Good to know."

"So, it looks like you've got a plan," Dejin commented.  "Think you'll get that deflector upgrade if Tom manages to earn his pot back?"

"I'd like to.  Though, it's not really a high priority right now."

"I'd rethink that idea if I were you," the trader said, her voice dropping to half the volume, "considering the Guerdon's leg's skirting some interesting activity lately."

B'Elanna gave a single nod in response.  It was hard to remember that the scum factor on the stations and the route was increasing on a daily basis.  It seemed all the same to her.  "When we get the parts, I'll install them."

"I've no doubt of that," Dejin replied, easily ending the topic and glad B'Elanna seemed to understand.  Peering around behind the end of the bar where they sat, Dejin called the waitress over.  "I think some wine is in order."

B'Elanna shook her head.  "I'll just have another tea."

"We're done for now and you're off duty, cadet.  I know you'll like this."  She nodded at the waitress and pulled a couple slips out of her pocket.  "Yes, Bajoran Daular, twenty-three sixty-eight.  Two glasses."

B'Elanna had already straightened at the label.  "Cadet?  What'd he tell you?"

"Tom didn't tell me anything," Dejin grinned.  "Didn't have to.  I looked you up.  --Don't worry, I always do that when I do business with new people.  I reek of the Academy, myself.  My crew calls me 'Admiral Arduous' when they think I'm not listening."

"I thought for a minute there you were a special kind of Betazoid," B'Elanna said, still scowling at Dejin's admission.

"Oh, I'm special, all right," the other woman smirked, taking her wine the moment it touched the bar and giving it a sniff before sipping.  "What about you?  Must have been rather 'special' for you, too, growing up how you did."

"It was just any Federation colony.  Nothing special about it."

"Aside from the fact that you're on the other side of the Federation now."

"Yes, I'm not there now--or in Starfleet.  Let's leave it at that, all right?"

"We can."  Dejin pulled another long sip.  "I think I understand."

Coughing a small laugh, B'Elanna turned back to her glass and drew a sip of the wine.  It was strong and woody, but smooth.  She wasn't used to the real article, though, so she didn't drink again right away, but kept her eyes trained on the mirrored wall, the people moving in it.

"Try growing up on Betazed with absolutely no progressive empathic skills whatsoever," Dejin continued.  "As far as they were concerned, I was a social charity."  She grinned as the sharp flavors rolled over her tongue and she saw in the corner of her eye the engineer look at her again.  With that, she finished her thought.  "I couldn't wait to get the hell away from there, either."

B'Elanna blinked a nod of apology.  "So you joined Starfleet?"

"I thought I could work it out there, but I'm not the sort of person who likes to be held down.  I loved everything about Starfleet but the regulations, always answering to a higher source, always under someone else's command.  It wasn't for me.  I did have fun for the duration, however."

"And you met Tom there."

"My third year," she confirmed, "his first, at the rec room dom-jot tables."

B'Elanna laughed.  "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"He beat the hell out of me, too, all with a smile on his face and a song in his heart.  Then we went out on squadron runs and he did the same thing to us there.  It was damnably annoying."  Dejin chuckled.  "At least he can still play the game.  He's never lost his touch on that much.  Lost enough otherwise...though that's under the bridge, as they say."

Though tempted, B'Elanna didn't ask.  Dejin had planted her elbows on the bar and trained her stare elsewhere upon finishing her sentence.  She'd probably said more than she intended.  "When did you leave the academy?"

"End of my fourth year," Dejin grinned.

The engineer's eyes widened.  "You got all the way through?"

"Almost.  I was about to prepare for my final examinations, but like I said, I sat down and realized I didn't want to go through with it.  I just couldn't do that with my life and be happy.  So, I quietly packed, walked out and took the transport home.  After my family's shock and horror wore off and I'd been able to see what was out there, my brother helped me get my little frigate, I made some connections and started the nice little business you've met today.  That was almost seven years ago."  She shrugged to herself, turned her stool so she could look out on the other denizens of the bar.  Her dark eyes scanned the room in two passes.  "It's not everything I could be doing, but it's satisfying and I'm usually in charge of my future."

"You haven't done badly," B'Elanna said, drawing on the wine again, letting it warm her.  She realized that that was the first time she'd spent time in one of the station bars and found herself enjoying it.  "It's not all that bad out here, once you get yourself into a good place."

"The trick is getting there, though."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Think you might ever get into the business too?"  Dejin queried.  "Maybe move up in the world?  Get your own rig?"

"No way.  I'm happy right where I am."

"Good.  Less competition for me."

B'Elanna smiled and took another drink.  "Do they have anything like pretzels here?"
 

---

 

"Has the captain gotten to Podala, yet?"

"Yeah, he got there last night."

"Next time, comm me in my quarters.  I like to know where he is at all times.  Got it?"

"Last time, you chewed me out for waking you up."

"And I will again.  But I want to know where he is.  Conversation over, asshole."

She smirked to herself.  The crew was trainable.  They were rough and they were stupid, but they could fall in line with just a little of the right pressure.  She had become expert at doing just that in varying degrees, making herself quite the likable bitch, second in command and even the captain's lover.  Not a bad deal for how she had to live there.

She let her fingers run over the fuses and remote sensors she'd so lovingly crafted during her downtime.  The captain didn't appreciate her skills as much as she did, but he certainly didn't hesitate to use them when he last saw a worthy target.  Rather, he correctly believed that she had little hesitation at all to test her work, and only asked she keep a regular inventory of everything she put together.

"So we know what we've got when we're going into a fight," he'd told her.

Like a good second in command, she of course kept an inventory...of the bombs she felt were worthy of transporting.  The rejects, she "disposed" of well enough--where she wanted them to go.

She was paid to be mercenary and inventive, but even they couldn't know the depth of her thoroughness.  Very few did.

She hoped as much as the captain did that they'd be able to find the little tradeship again.  While the Liberty was under her command, she was most certain to be looking most carefully.
 

---

 

"I hope we have an opportunity to meet for more time next round," Dejin told Savan the next morning as Tom lead the trader towards the lounge.

"We can plan on it.  I appreciate your advice."

"I'll try to get my hands on those geo-pods when I pass through Lyshan."

"Don't let me interrupt you two," Tom muttered, his eyes on the lounge doors.

"Don't be so jealous," Dejin grinned and offered Savan a slight bow.

As Savan turned back for the access ladder, Maryl came out of the forward cross-corridor.  Turning aft, she saw Dejin and Tom.  "We're going down for another inspection," she told Dejin as she approached.  "But I still want to talk to you later.  I need to line up some upcoming vendors."

"I'm free in two hours," Dejin said as they passed each other.  "Comm me."

"Will do."  With that, the Bajoran disappeared in Savan's wake.

"You're as popular as ever," Tom commented, not trying for levity.

"Savan should wake you up earlier or send some coffee down to you ahead of time," she replied.  "You're turning into a real grouch."

"I think I ate something bad last night.  My gut's killing me."

"It's probably that case of whiskey you've got swimming in there."

He shrugged.  "Maybe that, too."

Dejin continued with Tom to the lounge, letting her eyes roam over the dingy light blue walls and plain doors.  Much the same as the last time she'd been there five months ago.  The lights were working that time, though, and that strange chemical odor that had once crept dreadfully up from engineering was gone.  Dejin didn't need to comment on the improvements.  Tom's little engineer probably had fixed them while sipping her morning coffee.  Which reminded her, as Tom pulled a chair for her in the lounge then moved with get them coffee and rolls.

"Did B'Elanna inspect the crates yet, make sure my crew got it all in order?"

"She just started," Tom told her, pulling his selections from the replicator--a tray of rolls and two large mugs of coffee.  "It's why you saw Maryl on her way out just now.  B'Elanna slept in a couple hours.  Ridge said you kept her out late, got her drunk."

"She wasn't drunk when she left me," Dejin insisted with a laugh.  "She got a headache from the wine.  Ridge as usual is a fountain of imagination."

"I hope you don't steal her away just yet.  I really need those repairs."

"I'm not her type," Dejin assured him, then reached over to comb down his fluffy hair with her fingers.  "Really, Tom, you look like hell."  Bringing her hand back to her pocket, she pulled out a PADD and laid it on the table for him.  "You sure you're up for dealing right now?"

Tom slipped a light pour from a flask into his coffee.  "I'm all yours."

"Your call."  She took a roll from the plate and pulled it open to spread some honey on it.  "About a month ago, I struck a deal with a scientist from Ligara.  I'm assuming you're familiar with Ligara."

He glanced heavily at her, then stirred his concoction. 

"As you know, their homeworld is on the outside border of the UFP."

"And not regulated by Federation law," Tom acknowledged.

"But they have managed to get authorization to work in Federation space.  So, they'll need some big shipments to stock the science lab they're building.  They need the power supplies to build the equipment they use to collect the ores they need to work with.  Without it, the science lab goes nowhere, as does the Ligarans' investment."

"What's the rush?"

"Funding is being decided on by the end of the Ligaran political season.  No lab results, no funding, the investors go away."

"Okay.  What's the power source?"

"Bilitrium."

Tom glanced down at the PADD, but still hadn't activated it.  "Bilitrium isn't used by many people in the Federation anymore," he said carefully, knowing she knew where he was going, "but could it be adapted for use in Federation-styled equipment?"

"Yes."

"Adapted by the Maquis?"

"You know it."  She took a bite of her roll.  "This won't be a simple run."

"Hmm."  He drew the coffee to his lips, pulled a long drink.

Swallowing, Dejin tipped her head to give him the next bit.  "They're paying five hundred bars of latinum per completed run."

Tom swallowed hard and coughed on it.  Clearing his throat, he looked at for her confirmation.  "Five hundred?  They must be pretty anxious to get set up."

"Ligarans don't fool around, I can say that for certain."  She eyed him again.  "Well?  Would you like a piece of it?"

"We still have our run to Zarilar," answered, thinking aloud.  "After that, though, we have nothing on the roster but our usual route."

"We can wait until Zarilar's done.  It gives me time to shore up the registrations on my end.  It won't go over my promise date as long as you stay on schedule."

"Mm hmm."

"Look," she said, "I'm not dealing you and you know it.  I'm giving you this offer because I know you won't be back-ending this offer on me in return.  You're the only one I'll trust on this."

"Quite a compliment," he grinned, "since you jettisoned three techs in as many runs for their seedy connections."

"The field's crawling with Maquis, Tom," she sighed, "and with what I'm transporting, I can't take any chances these days.  Neither can you.  --Really, I'm telling you, hang on to your crew.  You don't want to be recruiting anyone anymore.  Not for a while, anyway."

"Yeah, I've been getting the feeling," he agreed, not elaborating.

"Speaking of which," she continued, "here's the downside to the deal..."  She watched his eyes widen briefly, then blink in acceptance.

"It's a speed run," Tom concluded.

"Yes."

Pausing to let that sink in, he blew a breath through his nostrils.  "Where to?"

"Six light years past Starbase 129," she told him, leaning back in her seat with her mug in hand.  "It's called Norsa Station." 

"That's a two-point-five sector jump."  Tom paused.  "And there's no going around."

"Straight through."  Dejin shrugged.  "That's why I've had trouble getting people.  You've crossed through Cardassian territory before.  Your licenses are up to date."

"They know the Guerdon, but I still have to register the flight and pay the levy."  Tom's gaze drew out towards the bulkhead window.  "How many others are in on this?"

"Four others--Ligaran frigates.  We're the only two independents.  I can get through Federation space easily; you can shortcut through Gul City.  So, the Ligarans are more than happy to compensate us well, if we can stock up Norsa Station within the deadline.  You'll have a mix of supplies, but most of it is bilitrium crystal and refined rodinium.  You drop off at Andal, my people pick it up and take the rest of the way to Norsa Station.  You'll be right on the border coming out of Saltok--"

"--Skirting the Hugora Nebula," he finished, nodding.  "I know the route you're talking about."

"Get past that, you're good to go."

"Tell me more--like where you somehow set up a stock of bilitrium in the Kalandra sector."

Dejin grinned.  "You expect me to tell you all my secrets?"

"No, though I think you want to."

She snickered.  "Yes, I do like bragging rights.  I've been investing some time with my old Beresian friends.  They have some sources and don't mind selling it, since their ships and stations don't use it anymore.  They'll be dropping it at Ligara soon, wrapped and ready for transport."

"Sounds reasonable enough."

"This one's important enough, too, that the Ligaran investors willing to offer up a quarter of the fee as down payment."  She nodded as Tom raised his brow.  "Yeah.  That means you could get your deflector upgraded, your engines ramped up, giving you that extra something before we even get started.  That new mechanic of yours would have a field day at it."

"That's a nice way to sweeten the deal."  He leaned back in his seat, his dark-circled eyes flicking over her expression.  "Your idea?"

"You could say that."  Dejin gestured to the PADD Tom still hadn't touched.  "I have to give them my itinerary by tomorrow morning, station time.  Can I count you in?"

Tom finally picked the PADD up.  "I'll talk to the others, get back to you."

Her lips turned up.  "Fair enough," she said then added, "I'd like to know you're on the other end of that run, Tom."

"And I'd like those upgrades," he returned, pressing himself to stand.  "I'll get back to you."

"I'll be waiting."  That done, she leaned back, crossed her legs and finished her breakfast.
 

---

 

The flask was empty by the time he found the bottom deck.

For over an hour, he'd been pacing the corridors, plotting out trajectories, remembering the Maquis captain's steely, clever stare.  Tom knew he could make that flight, but he'd not forgotten the quietly palpable determination in that Maquis captain.  It chilled him every time he thought of it.  The rebels were in it to win.

Win what?  Even Tom didn't know what they hoped to attain in the end.  There was absolutely no way they'd turn off the Cardassians--and if the Cardassians didn't, the Federation would eventually snuff them out.  Not that it was his concern...until now.  He didn't tell Dejin about his foray into the DMZ, about Mesler.  Eventually, she'd find out, but he didn't want her picking his brain.  She was right about the climate, though, and she was right about not being able to trust people. 

Perhaps he'd find the money to keep Nadrev.  The young leg runner had expressed a wish to join the crew full time.  Tom had already said he'd give it serious thought, but would have to wait until they were done with their Zarilar trip and they could afford another tech.

Maybe on the way back from Zarilar, he mused, stop by DS-Nine before meeting the Ligaran freighter.  Nadrev should be ready to leave Bajor by then, and we'll have the funds...

By the trajectory he knew he'd have to plot, they'd have to run through the DMZ twice, once on each end of the Cardassian peninsula.  This time, the Guerdon wouldn't be stopping.  This time, the Maquis knew their signature.

Pros and cons, temptations and warnings.  Part of him couldn't wait for the rush.  Dejin knew her old friend all too well and wasn't above using it.  Her grin alone remembered his instinctual desire to fly a ship to his ability, to experience the thrill of bait and escape.  It had been a long time. On the other hand, his recent experience warned that it was also quite possible he'd get his ass soundly kicked, his ship raided and his crew put in serious danger.  Their meeting with the Maquis ship was incidental, and the Guerdon had been carrying nothing they wanted.  The Ligaran deal was completely different.  Worse, even with speed and new deflector grids, the Guerdon flew like a brick, had no weapons and was not authorized to upgrade to defensible without a pile of legal consultation with not only Bolarus, but the Federation.  Even had they time for that, Tom wasn't in the mood to go through it.

Very, very few deals paid off so handsomely.  Was it worth it?

Tom turned at the bottom bay doors, hearing a little clinking going on.  Not at all unusual, that and he found inside what he expected:  Jerod tinkering away at yet another pile of parts.  The captain tilted his head, furrowed his brow and crossed his arms.  "Is that a shuttle?"

Jerod chuckled.  "Maybe.  Could be a great greenhouse for Savan, too."

"Where did you get it?"

"Off a junk dealer.  I got to thinking when I saw it I'd never put one together before."

Tom sighed.  "You should be running Daystrom, Jerod."

"Maybe when I finish my contract.  Wanna help?"

"We'll probably have to move it."  Tom thought for a moment.  "B'Elanna just cleared out the deck two aft parts bay."

"You got it."  Jerod pulled himself and moved to the nearby panel to initiate the transport.  "Hey, what's supposed to come in, anyway?  Maryl get some more lumber?"

"No.  Something Dejin's working on.  You'll hear about it in a while."

Several minutes later, the men walked into the junk pile's new home, looking at it anew and from another angle.  It was little more than a dented, scuffed shell with engine parts piled as high as the windows inside.  Tom could tell, however, that it'd been a runner, a triangle with a two-seat bridge and a box bay and hatch directly behind.  It might have packed just enough power to go ten light years.  "This comes out of your share?"  Tom asked.

"As long as I get to name her 'Hilda.'"

"Hilda?"

"Reminds me of the opera."

Tom shook his head and said nothing more as he moved in and starting taking a visual inventory.

"What the hell is that?"

Tom looked back at the door and saw B'Elanna in it, PADD in hand.  "Thought you said you wanted a new impulse manifold.  We think there's one in here somewhere."

Jerod snorted.

"Whatever it is, keep it out of my way," she told them and moved to continue her path down the corridor.

"Yes, ma'am," Tom returned.  Nodding to himself as he looked the little craft over once more, he moved back and looked out of the door.  "Meeting in the lounge at fourteen hundred, by the way," he called to her.  "You'll need to be there, B'Elanna."

She stopped and looked back at his steady gaze.  "What's it about?"  she asked.

"A deal," he replied.

"Okay." 

With that, he disappeared.
 

---

 

Tom paused in his pitch only long enough to wet his throat with a drink from his mug.  "Better still, we'll have twenty-five percent down payment to ensure we're able to bring it all through."

Ridge smiled at B'Elanna.  "There's a quarter of your repair list, right there--half with the rest in the pot."

"They can afford this?"  Savan asked.

"It's Dejin's deal," Tom said, "and rich as they are, the Ligarans don't mess around.  So, yeah, I trust they'll come through."  He looked around at his crew once again.  "Now that I have you drooling, I'll give you the catch."

"No, no, no, no, no," Maryl instantly moaned.

Tom nodded.  "Yeah, it's a--"

"Speed run," Maryl finished and hissed a curse through her teeth to punctuate it.  "Why the hell couldn't it have been easy, just this once?"

"We'll use the down payment to improve our engines and do a full upgrade on our shields," Tom told her.

"None of that will matter after those DMZ vultures have picked us clean and you know it," Maryl returned.  "You know it because you wouldn't have pitched to us like you did otherwise." "I admit it," Tom nodded.

"You think we can do it?"  Jerod asked.

"I think I can get around the Maquis if I have a ship that'll respond to me well enough," Tom answered, looking pointedly at B'Elanna.  "You think you could get the Guerdon up to what we need while we're to and from Zarilar?  Install the new deflector grids, rebuild the reactor and finish the warp drive tune up?"

"How long?"  she asked.

"Three weeks."

She thought about that.  "I think so, with the right parts, Ridge and Jerod working with me."  She glanced at them, catching their nods, then nodded back to Tom.  "Unless anything major comes up, yes.  We can get it there."

"You'll have the parts.  Nadrev can work with you, too, before we have to drop him off at DS-Nine."

"I don't like it," Maryl said, shaking her head.

"Why not?"  B'Elanna queried.  "It's a straight shot.  If we can get the ship to warp eight and stay there, not draw any attention, we should be all right."

"Their sensors will pick up bilitrium like a hawk spots a limp," Ridge said.

"It doesn't mean they'll catch us, though," B'Elanna responded.  "Dejin's got a great deal here--"

"I'm all for the deal," Maryl assured her.  "I'm just not for the speed run through the DMZ and Cardassian space.  Things are getting too unstable in there, and our recent experiences, much as I'm glad for what we got out of it, are all the more reason why giving them a second impression isn't a good idea.  I don't trust it."

"I don't either," Tom admitted.

"But you're going to take it."  Maryl hadn't asked.

He paused, shrugged slowly.  "It's tempting."

"You are going to take it," Savan calmly told him, "and we will need to prepare ourselves and the ship for it.  That is the reason you brought us here, to talk about it and see our reactions."

"Well, I did want to see how much Maryl would fight me, too."

"You're an ass," Maryl smirked, following it with a sigh and a grudging shrug.  "It is good money and Dejin deserves a little faith.  But the first sign of trouble and I'm blaming you, Tom."

"I think I can deal with that."  Tom looked at Jerod.  "What about you?"

The comm tech grimaced.  "Scary place to go racing through, but if I were in your shoes, I wouldn't be turning it down, either.  I like the way that share sounds.  It might even be fun.  Who knows?"

The captain tried to resist grinning when he looked at B'Elanna again.  "You think you can devise any tricks to mask our warp signature?  Maybe throw them off before they can pick up our cargo?"

"I know some old tricks."

"Make sure they're not Starfleet tricks--or at least adjust them as best you can.  The Maquis has its share of expatriates."

"Now that I think about it," B'Elanna added, "I can also rig a forcefield around the deck three bays.  The specs I've pulled up show they've got some old wiring I can adapt.  It might make it a little harder to spot.  I can also devise a tachyon spread in case someone gets on our tail."

"After the upgrades are in," Tom said, "take whatever you need and get it set up."  Drawing a breath, he nodded and pushed himself to stand.  Moving across the lounge to the comm panel by the door, he punched in a few codes and asked for the Casiat's captain.

"Yes?"

"We're in."
 

---

 

Forty tables were arranged in semi-circular rows behind the station bar, where food was served alongside the drinks.  Most the tables were filled; dealers moved in and out, captains and crews remained, coming in, finishing, getting a call and having to leave.  A haze of noise rose and fell from the area, conversations on and off, laughter, complaints and words under the breath.  Wait staff moved between them all, weaving drinks and food through the fabric.

Off on the side, near the viewport, a few tables had been pushed together to fit the crew of six.  A diverse group, comfortable yet relatively quiet, the most sober among them was the loudest.

A toast of cheap ale, a big bowl of spiced green puree and a plate of toasted flatbread punctuated the beginning of their meal.  The engineer leaned back in her seat, wine in one hand and a piece of the bread in the other.  She nibbled at it as her hulking assistant started off on his story.  The captain pulled his drink down, held his glass up toward the waitress for another.  He did manage to grin as the "Ecelor speed run story" progressed, and only shrugged when his engineer looked to him for confirmation.  Then he whispered something to the waitress when she brought him another glass.  She smiled and moved on.

His Vulcan science technician peered over at the next tray when it approached.  She blinked her approval when she saw the orders had been filled correctly.  The Bajoran contact liaison dug in immediately, shaking her head at her husband's retelling.  It was a little different every time, but no one bothered to say so.  The lanky communications technician, done with one serving, helped himself to another.

The young mechanic laughed aloud; the Vulcan glanced up from her meal.  The captain rolled his eyes, chuckling a little.  He really had no defense and didn't try for one.

The waitress brought the captain a bottle, then resumed her path to another table, where another crew was saying goodbye to a retiring technician.  They'd been there a while and were feeling their drinks.  She skipped by the next tables.  She didn't want anyone to think she'd heard any part of those dealings.  She made several more rounds in the same fashion.

By the time she'd brought the farewell party their last tray of Korian ale, the young captain passed by, trailing behind his crew.  He was a little unsteady, but able enough to lean down and slip some credits into her hand.

"Thanks," he said, sliding his fingers around hers to close them on the slips; with a moderate grin, a sleepy glance, continued on to disappear around the corner with the others.
 

---

 

Tibin Jall finished wiping up the bar, readying for the next wave of customers, the post first-shift crowd, he confirmed, checking the chronometer with a glance behind him.  Not that it affected him, either way.  Day and night meant nothing there.  They all had their own clocks but bought the same drinks.  A few captains were there already, waiting for their contacts.  A few others were strolling by, peeking in, wondering whether to have a drink or not.  Eventually, they would come, so Tibin made no efforts to encourage them.

"What would you like?"  he asked as a square-built man in a brown leather vest and coat slid onto a seat.  Tibin instinctively knew better than to examine him any further.

"Iced kintar tea," the man said, slipping a few credits across the water-streaked bar.  When the tall glass arrived, he nodded his thanks.  Then, he said, "I was hoping you might help me.  They said you know most of the tradeships around here."

"I know a few."

"It's not any kind of trouble," the man was quick to tell him.  "I was told he was looking for a new sensor manifold and I happen to be selling.  Problem is, my first mate dumped the communication from Zomir after I read it only once."

"I'd have him in hack for that," Tibin snorted.

"I gave her worse," the captain chuckled.  "I know it's a Bolian ship, but the captain is Human.  Tom Adams, I think.  Ring a bell?"

Tibin shrugged.  "Pretty common name for a human, isn't it?"

"Yes," the captain admitted, pushing a few extra credits across the bar.

Tibin pocketed the credits and pulled out some bread sticks.  "What else about the ship?"

A few more credits were set down.  Their numbers glowed a sum that made the bartender's lips twitch upwards.  "It used to be associated with a trader named Mesler."

The Bajoran nodded, drying off the bar and taking the credits back with the rag.  "That'd be Tom Paris you're trying to remember."

"Paris."  The dark man nodded.  "That's right.  I wonder why I thought it was Adams."

"It is a common name for a human," Tibin reiterated, "and I'm afraid you missed him.  They broke dock a few hours ago."

The captain stood and set one more credit on the bar for a tip.  "Thank you."

Tibin slipped that credit, too, into his pocket, then dumped the untasted tea into his wash bucket.

     

---

Main Page | Part V

(c) D'Alaire M, 2007