Star Trek - The Shadowdancer [IC | Semi-Open]

[Tiltjuice]

He set the hat aside and stabbed it with the Spoonhead Slasher for good measure.

"I suppose I could. Plastic surgery is my major expertise, but I did disguise a few fighters during the resistance to look like Cardassians...only 4 out of 6 got found out in the end...never did like Ristak anyway."

He pulled his knife out of the hat.

"Give me the species and I'll have you looking like it by lunch."

"You have more issues than - well, anyway, it's not for me. It's for an old friend; I owe him a favor. He should be on the station in the next hour or so."

She handed him a PADD, hoping she'd get it back without a hole punched in its screen. That would be a waste of quality electronics... "There's the time and place. One hour fifteen from now, at Airlock Twenty, and he needs to be a Benzite. Tell him Protesting Clara sent you. He'll understand. Oh, " Arelle turned to look over her shoulder as she was leaving the dining room, "you can keep the hat. It's what you get for calling me an imaginary streetwalker. Until then - I'm going to go find Will and Nate. Come with?"

[Ameriganastan]

"You have more issues than - well, anyway, it's not for me. It's for an old friend; I owe him a favor. He should be on the station in the next hour or so."

She handed him a PADD, hoping she'd get it back without a hole punched in its screen. That would be a waste of quality electronics... "There's the time and place. One hour fifteen from now, at Airlock Twenty, and he needs to be a Benzite. Tell him Protesting Clara sent you. He'll understand. Oh, " Arelle turned to look over her shoulder as she was leaving the dining room, "you can keep the hat. It's what you get for calling me an imaginary streetwalker. Until then - I'm going to go find Will and Nate. Come with?"

"Everyone giving me PADD's today..."

He stuffed it inside his coat with the one he got earlier.

"I'll have him looking more Benzite than a born Benzite. I better be getting some kind of compensation for this too. I don't do pro-bono anymore unless it's an emergency."

[Tiltjuice]

"Everyone giving me PADD's today..."

He stuffed it inside his coat with the one he got earlier.

"I'll have him looking more Benzite than a born Benzite. I better be getting some kind of compensation for this too. I don't do pro-bono anymore unless it's an emergency."

"What would you call an emergency?"

Arelle was long past denying that no one was above a price. That was a universal truth, even in modern times. Still, there wasn't any harm in pushing Sirco a bit.

[Ameriganastan]

"Everyone giving me PADD's today..."

He stuffed it inside his coat with the one he got earlier.

"I'll have him looking more Benzite than a born Benzite. I better be getting some kind of compensation for this too. I don't do pro-bono anymore unless it's an emergency."

"What would you call an emergency?"

Arelle was long past denying that no one was above a price. That was a universal truth, even in modern times. Still, there wasn't any harm in pushing Sirco a bit.

"An emergency! You know, phaser wound. Bat'Leth gash. Knife in your side when you hit on a pretty Ferengi woman with a violent Nausican for a boyfriend..."

He rubbed his side a little when he recalled that incident.

"I don't consider plastic surgery an emergency. I consider it a voluntary procedure. Which means the patient has to pay the Bajoran piper if he wants it done. 1000 credits should cover making someone look like a Benzite."

[Tiltjuice]

"What would you call an emergency?"

Arelle was long past denying that no one was above a price. That was a universal truth, even in modern times. Still, there wasn't any harm in pushing Sirco a bit.

"An emergency! You know, phaser wound. Bat'Leth gash. Knife in your side when you hit on a pretty Ferengi woman with a violent Nausican for a boyfriend..."

He rubbed his side a little when he recalled that incident.

"I don't consider plastic surgery an emergency. I consider it a voluntary procedure. Which means the patient has to pay the Bajoran piper if he wants it done. 1000 credits should cover making someone look like a Benzite."

"Right. That kind of emergency. Sorry, I don't really find myself in those kinds of situations. If I do, something has gone terribly wrong and I'll probably find myself breaking something. Though, breaking things has a charm all its own."

Arelle put her hand to her face. "Did anyone ever tell you you're very entertaining, but also the kind of person who could bring someone to great ruin? Fine. 1000 credits. Carter is going to owe me for this. Now come on - I'll get you a round of drinks as an advance, and we can go bother the Skipper or something."

[Ameriganastan]

"Right. That kind of emergency. Sorry, I don't really find myself in those kinds of situations. If I do, something has gone terribly wrong and I'll probably find myself breaking something. Though, breaking things has a charm all its own."

Arelle put her hand to her face. "Did anyone ever tell you you're very entertaining, but also the kind of person who could bring someone to great ruin? Fine. 1000 credits. Carter is going to owe me for this. Now come on - I'll get you a round of drinks as an advance, and we can go bother the Skipper or something."

"Works for me...uh, hang on a second before we go. I have a bit of private business to conduct first."

He slipped out of the room, pulling the first PADD from his coat and making sure the door was shut behind him. A plethora of data popped up on the thing. Dates. Coordinates. And a name.

"Corbin..."

Goral Corbin. Better known as Gul Corbin.

"I knew that Spoonhead freak was still out there. And he doesn't have the order to hide behind anymore. I've been dreaming of this day since the occupation ended."

He hid it back in his coat, hiding the almost sadistic look of joy on his face.

"All done. Lead on."

[Mincaldenteans]

Nathan took another cigarette out and lit it, walking along the promenade of the station, paying little mind to the hustle and bustle of the commotion that surrounded him. Fuck her and her antics. They never got old. This was mostly on his mind as he had almost become victims to a pair of kids that were quick at pick-pocketing. Thankfully, they hadn't gotten him as they intended and he just kept on moving.

The money he could get from Bella would be substantial, enough to pay for the repairs, supply the ship, and maybe stash a bit of it into the ship's saving account. Not to mention paying the crew he had left. Nathan hadn't even bothered sending out another notice for new crew. Arelle, Azara, Sirco, Will.. a crew of five, more than enough to keep 'Dancer flying.

He was also waiting on another call. Some guy who had a few shield generators he needed delivered to a backwater colony long since forgotten in the outskirts of the DMZ. The details weren't specifics about why they couldn't defend themselves but it was enough to surmise: it was another forgotten world by the Federation. This colony had gone through the back channels to keep any attention from them, be it the Federation, the Cardassians, or the Maquis. And they were willing to pay a modest fee for the delivery. The last captain hadn't showed and currently this future employer needed it out and fast. Worked for the Captain, his allegiance wasn't in it for any of them and it looked simple enough.

The cigarette hit its limit and and Nathan dropped it on the floor, idly stepping over it and taking out another one. Twelve more hours. Felt like twelve more days.

[Gibberan]

Will exited the cargo bay, deep in thought. He had been trying to locate the rest of the crew via their communicators, but apparently something on the station was interfering with the signal. Just great. After checking on the ship, which was actually doing much better, he endeavoured to try and find the rest of them. Wandering from door to door, he eventually happened upon Arelle and the new doctor, the one who had shot up the sickbay. Talk about crazy. Oh well, at least they had a doc...it would come in handy sometime.

"Hey, Arelle, Doctor...you guys seen the Cap? I've been looking for him, so I can tell him all that neutronium's in the hands of some Bolian scavenger, hopped up on Klingon bloodwine. An easy sell." He looked around, but there was no sign of him. "Not here. Ah well, I'll tell him later. What're you guys up to?"

[Tiltjuice]

"Hi, Will," Arelle said, with a nod. "The doc and I were looking for him, too. And, you know, just doing a bit of sightseeing. I have an old friend who's dropping in soon, and figured I'd get to know this place a bit." Her lips quirked in acknowledgment of the somewhat down and out appearance of the station.

"He was meeting with someone earlier and it didn't look so good. And speaking of not looking so good, how're you faring after our Orion friend moved on to wherever people like her go?"

It was typical of her, but there wasn't one hundred percent purity of motive in it. Everything was a different shade of gray. It always had been, since her time at the fleet yards. With Reis. That had taught her that something for nothing was an illusion; intangibles were still things.

Most people in the Federation went about their merry lies. She knew better. What mattered was what a person had to offer, and how honest they were about it.

[Mincaldenteans]

collab w/Lyryn, Bella's handler

A few hours had passed since Nathan had disappeared into the depths of the station, leaving the crew to their own devices and only saying 'back in a few', before promptly shutting off his communicator. Here in the really shady parts of the station, Nathan ironed out the deal to his next job. It wasn't his choice to be here, having preferred to be in the same bar he had met Bella in; doing this undoubtedly raised a few alarms but the Captain kept it to business and not on motives. Needless to say he also didn't go unarmed and he was relieved he didn't have to shoot anyone after all. A drawn out haggle and an impatient hour or two more, Nathan had the job and he proceeded back to 'Dancer. He checked his communicator, intent on letting the crew know it was time to get going, repairs finished or not. Instead, he found a message from her.

He sighed, flipping the antique thing open to activate its signal and programmed it to Bella's frequency as she so snidely indicated in the missive. "Yeah?" He said when he heard the other end of the line pick up.

"Got your buyer. Money's waiting. Standard ten broker fee. Meet me in the alley behind G'noths."

He clicked off without saying another word and went through the rest of the messengers. Apparently Will already sold the cargo and Nathan let out a mirthless laugh, wishing he didn't use the last of his cigarettes during the negotiation, and could only see the shitstorm that was going to hit soon. Nathan messaged them back quickly and told them he'd be on his way soon, to get ready and head out at the best speed possible. He didn't leave much instructions to go by, but the intent was clear: Get 'Dancer ready and head out asap - how much clearer could it get?

Nate continued on through the corridors and it wasn't long before the captain found the 'alley' she was talking about. Who the hell called corridors 'alleys' on a space station anyway? Whatever.

"Which do you want?" He asked without preamble once he had spotted her, "The good news or the bad news first?"

"I don't do bad news during deals, especially when dealing with Therlin. Just give me the beam out point, you get your money and we don't have to see each other again."

A bitter smile came up but he quickly suppressed it. He wondered if Bella caught it anyway. “There’s a first time for everything. Apparently Will sold my cargo before you found your buyer. Some drunken half-wit Bolian for a sizeable amount; he didn’t say where the merchant went after.”

"You are fucking kidding me! Fucking half-wit Bolian fucking kidding me!" Bella slammed her hand into the wall. "I stuck my neck out for this one! You don't back out on a deal Therlin. Since when does your cock-sucking mother fucking crew do things without your permission? You gone soft?"

“I like to think of it as initiative,” Nate rebuked with a nonchalant shrug, “He found a perfect opportunity to exploit the situation and come up ahead. It’s not like we didn’t do that in the past. You can always find the Bolian if he hasn’t left the station already, that is.”

"Me? This is suddenly MY fucking problem? You're going to get me killed!" She stopped suddenly at looked at him. "Or was that your plan all along? Prey on the girl to do you a favor knowing I would for old time's sake, even though I hate your fucking guts, and then hang her out to dry? You motherfucker."

He couldn’t bring himself to actually care that she may have just dug her own grave, nor was he actually convinced of her sentiment as her reason for answering his hail to begin with. Either way, what was done was done. Nate glowered at her but said quietly, “Unlike some folks, I’m not that cruel. No, it wasn’t some nefarious plan to leave you with a gun to your head; it literally was unforeseen that the cargo was sold off so quickly. And keep your head on the situation,” he said with mild impatience to her yammering, “What will pacify this Therlin person? The cargo is sold but can still be bought, the vender has simply changed. Work that angle.”

"I shouldn't have stopped Dan from gutting you when he had the chance," she spat at him and walked away, trying to figure out how to save herself. Never again. Never again would she do another favor for anyone for sentimentality. Fuck that shit.

That did it. Nathan walked right up and whirled her smaller frame until she hit the bulkhead with her back, Nate’s hand firmly against her left shoulder.

“Listen to me you prissy little bitch,” Nathan said with a low growl, his grey eyes the look of an unforgiving storm gathering as he reigned in his anger and continued with the same menace, “I’ve just had about enough of your backward view of how this all went down to begin with. I may not have the same opinion of the two of you, or none at all really, but if I had to it certainly wouldn’t be a petty attempt at my character you’ve clearly been baiting at since you took my offer. I’m not the one itching for a fight here: I wanted to get down to business the moment we met if you recall. But you certainly couldn’t do that, could you Isabella? So what good are you anyway? Don’t answer that, it’d be a joke otherwise.

“Now you’re stuck in this situation and I’m actually trying to help you get out of it. But you know what? Get screwed, why the fuck should I give two shits about what happens to you now.” With that he released his grip and moved off, not looking back.

Bella would never admit it to a single soul, but she missed him. She missed her big brother terribly.

[Ameriganastan]

"Hi, Will," Arelle said, with a nod. "The doc and I were looking for him, too. And, you know, just doing a bit of sightseeing. I have an old friend who's dropping in soon, and figured I'd get to know this place a bit." Her lips quirked in acknowledgment of the somewhat down and out appearance of the station.

"He was meeting with someone earlier and it didn't look so good. And speaking of not looking so good, how're you faring after our Orion friend moved on to wherever people like her go?"

It was typical of her, but there wasn't one hundred percent purity of motive in it. Everything was a different shade of gray. It always had been, since her time at the fleet yards. With Reis. That had taught her that something for nothing was an illusion; intangibles were still things.

Most people in the Federation went about their merry lies. She knew better. What mattered was what a person had to offer, and how honest they were about it.

"It's a good thing that green whore left. I didn't mention it beforehand, but that pheromone neutralizer was experimental...and expired...if you happen to break out in purple splotches and your hair turns turquoise, it's totally unrelated...uh, I have things to take care of. I need to get set up. If you need me...well, you're screwed. Find another doctor if you experience an emergency in the next two hours."

He straightened his coat and hobbled in the direction of the airlock he was set to meet his patient in.

"Never hurts to get a jumpstart before an operation...hey, ugly 1 and ugly 2. "

He pointed at two dimwitted looking Nausicans as he walked.

"You're hired. 250 credits each to stand guard while I work. Follow."

The shrugged and followed behind him.

"This is private business. You simply stand guard and don't ask any questions. You get paid when I do."

[Tiltjuice]

"Oh, hell." The words were mild, almost breathed. Bajorans have no subtlety. Did he...oh, shit, did he get Will or the Skipper with that thing? for a fleeting moment, Arelle wondered if she should be tracking Nathan down instead -

Nevermind. Focus. Nothing mattered if Carter got spooked by the Nausicaans. Not that anything was likely to. Her gaze moved from the cluster of passed-out Andorians smelling heavily of alcohol to the Vulcan sitting on a bench reading the Teachings of Surak.

And she smiled.

"Will? I really am very sorry about this but I'll come help you out in a bit." With that, she tangled her own legs up and took a dive across his path. Her hand swept so casually to his waistband in an apparent effort to regain her balance by any means necessary that it was almost a shame the gesture missed its target.

Instead, a gleaming silver M1911 fell from waist height and skittered across the deck, landing at the feet of the Vulcan, who looked up curiously.

"Gun!" Arelle shouted, head swiveling between Will and the Vulcan. She backed away hurriedly, disappearing into the crowd with long strides.

Elsewhere, a shuttle of Ferengi design docked and a balding, elderly human man with a deep tan disembarked.

"Who are you?" he asked, giving Sirco a sunken-eyed stare. "I was told to expect someone taller. And more human. And more female. Than you."

[Ameriganastan]

Elsewhere, a shuttle of Ferengi design docked and a balding, elderly human man with a deep tan disembarked.

"Who are you?" he asked, giving Sirco a sunken-eyed stare. "I was told to expect someone taller. And more human. And more female. Thank you."

Sirco lived by a simple creed. 'If you're nice to your doctor, he's nice to you.' This guy had broken it fast. Hence Sirco went into Dr. Asshole mode. Which came with a free cane whack to the leg.

"I'm the man taking time out of his day to make you look like a Benzite. Which is frankly an improvement over your current appearance. You will address me as Dr. Sirco. You will pay me 500 credits up front, and the other 500 when I'm finished with you. If you try to shortchange me, I'll either slit your throat on the table or let my ugly friends out there beat the fee out of you."

He pointed to the makeshift surgical theater he'd set up in the airlock.

"Sit. Be quiet. Hold still. If you mouth off, I'll smack you in the face with my cane next. And I'll charge you to fix that damage too."

[Tiltjuice]

Elsewhere, a shuttle of Ferengi design docked and a balding, elderly human man with a deep tan disembarked.

"Who are you?" he asked, giving Sirco a sunken-eyed stare. "I was told to expect someone taller. And more human. And more female. Thank you."

Sirco lived by a simple creed. 'If you're nice to your doctor, he's nice to you.' This guy had broken it fast. Hence Sirco went into Dr. Asshole mode. Which came with a free cane whack to the leg.

"I'm the man taking time out of his day to make you look like a Benzite. Which is frankly an improvement over your current appearance. You will address me as Dr. Sirco. You will pay me 500 credits up front, and the other 500 when I'm finished with you. If you try to shortchange me, I'll either slit your throat on the table or let my ugly friends out there beat the fee out of you."

He pointed to the makeshift surgical theater he'd set up in the airlock.

"Sit. Be quiet. Hold still. If you mouth off, I'll smack you in the face with my cane next. And I'll charge you to fix that damage too."

"Just one snag. He doesn't have any money...yet. I'm the one footing the bill for the operation, so play nice, Sirco." Arelle gave him her best enigmatic smile, though it was probably a bit wasted as she was staring at the back of his head. "We all have secrets, but I'll let you in on one of mine: I like breaking things every now and then. Make him look good, and no more caning, and I'll triple your pay. And Carter, next one is up by half."

She folded her arms, half-closed her eyes, and began whistling as she folded half a dozen pieces of paper into something.

Elsewhere, the Vulcan arched both eyebrows as he picked up Arelle's M1911 and reached out with both hands to return it to Will. "I believe you dropped this. Are you a historian?"

[Ameriganastan]

"Just one snag. He doesn't have any money...yet. I'm the one footing the bill for the operation, so play nice, Sirco." Arelle gave him her best enigmatic smile, though it was probably a bit wasted as she was staring at the back of his head. "We all have secrets, but I'll let you in on one of mine: I like breaking things every now and then. Make him look good, and no more caning, and I'll triple your pay. And Carter, next one is up by half."

She folded her arms, half-closed her eyes, and began whistling as she folded half a dozen pieces of paper into something.

"Fine. No more cane whacks. But I reserve the right to at least kick him in the nads if he mouths off to me again. Now if you'll excuse me..."

He hypo-sprayed the guy and shoved him onto the bed as he passed out.

"I need some privacy to work."

He grabbed a curtain from the corner and hung it over the airlock door.

"Okay, ugly. Next time you wake up, you'll be way prettier than you are now."

One time saving skip later.

The curtain was ripped down, and a Sirco pointed to the bed. Indeed, the old man was indistinguishable from a native born Benzite.

"I was gonna give him the breathing apparatus thing and charge extra, but I needed the metal to reinforce his cheeks so they wouldn't cave in. Anyway, wake his ass up and pay me."

[The rhomaio]

Sectator sat in the Dancer's mess hall eating a bowl of soup. He disliked space-stations, all prey, but no killing, officials did not approve of it, (At least usually) He had encountered many a security officer in his bouncing career and he loathed everyone of them. They were hunters but they rarely made the kill, preferring incarceration rather then giving prey an honorable death. One time he had cooperated them, and tracked a murderer into the lower levels of the station, he had used gas to flush the prey out, and then dispatched him with his knife. He muttered a curse like phrase in the Hirogen dialect. He had been reminiscing again, the reason he joined this vessel was not to reminisce about old hunts, but to make new ones.

"Why doesn't this accursed vessel have a holodeck?" he said aloud.

[Mincaldenteans]

Sectator sat in the Dancer's mess hall eating a bowl of soup. He disliked space-stations, all prey, but no killing, officials did not approve of it, (At least usually) He had encountered many a security officer in his bouncing career and he loathed everyone of them. They were hunters but they rarely made the kill, preferring incarceration rather then giving prey an honorable death. One time he had cooperated them, and tracked a murderer into the lower levels of the station, he had used gas to flush the prey out, and then dispatched him with his knife. He muttered a curse like phrase in the Hirogen dialect. He had been reminiscing again, the reason he joined this vessel was not to reminisce about old hunts, but to make new ones.

"Why doesn't this accursed vessel have a holodeck?" he said aloud.

"We tried that once, 'Dancer threw a fit and half the EPS relays blew to smithereens," Nathan said in a low voice from seemingly out of nowhere as closed to the kitchen cabinets and rummaged through. He wanted a stiff drink to drown out the last couple of hours, especially his anger, but in reality he was hungry. He decided against alcohol - the last he needed was his crew to see him in a stupor. He then considered using the replicators for food, having no inclination to fiddle around the stove that once held the burnt dinner from two nights ago. Though the Captain did his best to avoid using the replicators whenever possible; as parts went replicator technology, particularly Starfleet parts, were hard to come by and at exorbitant prices on the open market. The ship was running low on that, none too surprising there. Nathan pursed his lip and quickly replicated a plate of hainam chicken rice with a side of soup, he'll deal with 'Dancer's complaints later. Taking the tray of food, Nathan set the plate down on the dining table but a few seats away from the Hirogen. The alien still rang all sorts of alarm in the merchant captain but he did his best not to show it by giving the hunter a respectable amount of personal space.

Playing around with the chicken rice with a fork he looked up after a moment in thought, "You've been on board this whole time? I thought you left, but... well, my mistake." Shrugging, he took a bite out of his dinner. "So, have you been on the station? Find anything interesting?"

[Tiltjuice]

Will had gotten away from the Vulcan and a few (very few) overly curious latecomers to the scene with Arelle's pistol, which he handed back to her as she in turn handed six 500-credit notes, twisted neatly into an origami lotus, to Sirco.

"Can you be at least a little bit nicer?" she said rhetorically, prodding "Carter" with the spur of the 1911. He sat up with a start. "He pays the bills, in a way. Sells me explosives, and then I go and do things with them that pay more than they cost. Isn't that right, Carter?"

The old man simply scowled, the expression twice as ugly on his new Benzite face. "Stuff it, Clara. Keep spilling my secrets right along with yours and I'll have to turn myself into an Acamarian Gatherer next. Without your help this time. Now I'm leaving, before that penchant for breaking things resurfaces and makes my ship the next target." Without further ado, he pushed his way past her and wandered off, looking harmless.

Arelle turned her head slightly, and then spoke in an undertone to Sirco. "Pay your Nausis off so they can drink themselves out of the memory of all this, or I'll just shoot them." She rather hoped he picked the first choice; she didn't go in for bloodshed much, even when she was blowing things to hell in a handbasket. That was mainly for the money, after all, and when she did it, she always tried to get an extra piece of the pie for doing it with finesse.

[Ameriganastan]

Will had gotten away from the Vulcan and a few (very few) overly curious latecomers to the scene with Arelle's pistol, which he handed back to her as she in turn handed six 500-credit notes, twisted neatly into an origami lotus, to Sirco.

"Can you be at least a little bit nicer?" she said rhetorically, prodding "Carter" with the spur of the 1911. He sat up with a start. "He pays the bills, in a way. Sells me explosives, and then I go and do things with them that pay more than they cost. Isn't that right, Carter?"

The old man simply scowled, the expression twice as ugly on his new Benzite face. "Stuff it, Clara. Keep spilling my secrets right along with yours and I'll have to turn myself into an Acamarian Gatherer next. Without your help this time. Now I'm leaving, before that penchant for breaking things resurfaces and makes my ship the next target." Without further ado, he pushed his way past her and wandered off, looking harmless.

Arelle turned her head slightly, and then spoke in an undertone to Sirco. "Pay your Nausis off so they can drink themselves out of the memory of all this, or I'll just shoot them." She rather hoped he picked the first choice; she didn't go in for bloodshed much, even when she was blowing things to hell in a handbasket. That was mainly for the money, after all, and when she did it, she always tried to get an extra piece of the pie for doing it with finesse.

"Hey, thing one and thing two. Quick question."

He held up all five fingers on one hand.

"How many fingers is that?"

They squinted a little, scratching their heads.

"...Three?"

"Excellent. Here's your payment. 250 credits each."

He slapped the note in his palm and gave him a hearty handshake.

"Now scoot."

The two idiots lumbered off, Sirco waiting until they were out of earshot. At which point he produced the origami note from his sleeve.

"Old slight of hand trick I learned in the occupation. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Stupid have a whopping 10 credits to split between each other. Morons. Welp, I'm done for now. If you need me...uh...yell real loud. I'm sure I'll hear it."

He stuffed his payment in his pocket and actually strutted away.

[Tiltjuice]

"Hey, thing one and thing two. Quick question."

He held up all five fingers on one hand.

"How many fingers is that?"

They squinted a little, scratching their heads.

"...Three?"

"Excellent. Here's your payment. 250 credits each."

He slapped the note in his palm and gave him a hearty handshake.

"Now scoot."

The two idiots lumbered off, Sirco waiting until they were out of earshot. At which point he produced the origami note from his sleeve.

"Old slight of hand trick I learned in the occupation. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Stupid have a whopping 10 credits to split between each other. Morons. Welp, I'm done for now. If you need me...uh...yell real loud. I'm sure I'll hear it."

He stuffed his payment in his pocket and actually strutted away.

A regretful glance followed Sirco out. "Sorry in advance, hope hearing this doesn't put you off your head too much. Then again, I'm sure you'll live on the 490 credits you just saved. Don't spend it all at once."

The hacker followed the goons along, watching until she was sure no one else outside the crew and the Nausicaans themselves were there. Then she lifted the .45, and it thundered four times. The pair of bodies had scarcely collapsed before she picked up Sirco's bloodstained 10, and stuffed it in her pocket. Her lips thinned as she stuffed it in her pocket and walked away quickly, heading back to where she'd left Will, intending to go back to 'Dancer.

The use of the ancient projectile weapon would raise a few eyebrows, but she wouldn't be the first thing the FSS thought of; Sharmekor would probably see a visit from Temporal Investigations soon. As for the shooting itself...10 credits wasn't enough for her to take a chance the goons would remember her and/or Carter, and the last thing she needed was word going around that Arelle Delatorre was in the neighborhood. Not in this area of space. There was no way the two hulking idiots could get that drunk off 5 credits apiece.

Her boots thudded solidly as she rejoined Will. "Sorry for all the unpleasantness," she said, matter-of-factly, tucking her pistol away in her waistband.

[The rhomaio]

Sectator sat in the Dancer's mess hall eating a bowl of soup. He disliked space-stations, all prey, but no killing, officials did not approve of it, (At least usually) He had encountered many a security officer in his bouncing career and he loathed everyone of them. They were hunters but they rarely made the kill, preferring incarceration rather then giving prey an honorable death. One time he had cooperated them, and tracked a murderer into the lower levels of the station, he had used gas to flush the prey out, and then dispatched him with his knife. He muttered a curse like phrase in the Hirogen dialect. He had been reminiscing again, the reason he joined this vessel was not to reminisce about old hunts, but to make new ones.

"Why doesn't this accursed vessel have a holodeck?" he said aloud.

"We tried that once, 'Dancer threw a fit and half the EPS relays blew to smithereens," Nathan said in a low voice from seemingly out of nowhere as closed to the kitchen cabinets and rummaged through. He wanted a stiff drink to drown out the last couple of hours, especially his anger, but in reality he was hungry. He decided against alcohol - the last he needed was his crew to see him in a stupor. He then considered using the replicators for food, having no inclination to fiddle around the stove that once held the burnt dinner from two nights ago. Though the Captain did his best to avoid using the replicators whenever possible; as parts went replicator technology, particularly Starfleet parts, were hard to come by and at exorbitant prices on the open market. The ship was running low on that, none too surprising there. Nathan pursed his lip and quickly replicated a plate of hainam chicken rice with a side of soup, he'll deal with 'Dancer's complaints later. Taking the tray of food, Nathan set the plate down on the dining table but a few seats away from the Hirogen. The alien still rang all sorts of alarm in the merchant captain but he did his best not to show it by giving the hunter a respectable amount of personal space.

Playing around with the chicken rice with a fork he looked up after a moment in thought, "You've been on board this whole time? I thought you left, but... well, my mistake." Shrugging, he took a bite out of his dinner. "So, have you been on the station? Find anything interesting?"

The Alpha's sudden appearance startled Sectator, he was not accustomed to being sneaked up on. "I don't think I've been here, but space stations look alike to me mostly." he stirred his soup with his rather awkwardly held spoon. Space stations were not a good conversational topic with him.
"Captian, the one called Sirco has insulted me by his actions against me on Rahm Izad, were it in different circumstances, I would have mounted his solitary ear on my wall. I have not out of respect for your command." he ate another spoonful of soup. "However further transgressions on his part will not be tolerated."

[Ameriganastan]

The Alpha's sudden appearance startled Sectator, he was not accustomed to being sneaked up on. "I don't think I've been here, but space stations look alike to me mostly." he stirred his soup with his rather awkwardly held spoon. Space stations were not a good conversational topic with him.
"Captian, the one called Sirco has insulted me by his actions against me on Rahm Izad, were it in different circumstances, I would have mounted his solitary ear on my wall. I have not out of respect for your command." he ate another spoonful of soup. "However further transgressions on his part will not be tolerated."

"Is that a fact, lizard boy? You wanna back up that threat?"

Sirco had decided to drop by the ship for a snack after his job. And he'd shown up at quite the fun time.

"Your kind are a dime-a-dozen, you know? Big blowhard aliens who think nothing in the wide, wide galaxy can beat them. You think you can take me? The entire Cardassian military couldn't kill me or my people."

He pulled his coat back just enough for the handle of his phaser to peek out.

"You wouldn't be any different."

[The rhomaio]

The Alpha's sudden appearance startled Sectator, he was not accustomed to being sneaked up on. "I don't think I've been here, but space stations look alike to me mostly." he stirred his soup with his rather awkwardly held spoon. Space stations were not a good conversational topic with him.
"Captian, the one called Sirco has insulted me by his actions against me on Rahm Izad, were it in different circumstances, I would have mounted his solitary ear on my wall. I have not out of respect for your command." he ate another spoonful of soup. "However further transgressions on his part will not be tolerated."

"Is that a fact, lizard boy? You wanna back up that threat?"

Sirco had decided to drop by the ship for a snack after his job. And he'd shown up at quite the fun time.

"Your kind are a dime-a-dozen, you know? Big blowhard aliens who think nothing in the wide, wide galaxy can beat them. You think you can take me? The entire Cardassian military couldn't kill me or my people."

He pulled his coat back just enough for the handle of his phaser to peek out.

"You wouldn't be any different."

"You find pride in this?" he said while raising from his seat. "Your people were culled because your race put their efforts into "The arts" rather then making weapons to protect their own people." he stood face to face with Sirco, their faces inches away from each other's. "The Cardassians could have blasted your planet into dust anytime they wanted, they just didn't want the Feds to have a fit. And what are you now? A broken race still living in the shadows of the more powerful."
"I have not killed many of your kind, it would be an interesting hunt. But wounded prey is not a challenge. Savor your life while you have it, for if you continue to be a nuisance, I will give you no quarter."

[Maltropia]

The door whooshed cheerfully open as Azara walked in, a PADD in one hand and a bottle in the other. For a split second she seemed ready to home in on Nathan but then she took in the whole scene in front of her, the Bajoran doctor inches from the imposing alien guy's face. Neither had a weapon out, but the looks they were giving each other were far more fatal than any disruptor anyway. Even after downing most of a bottle of tranya - not the first today - she could tell at a glance that this needed to be broken up. Ehh, but how. She caught Nathan's eyes as Sirco's hand moved towards his phaser and she sprang into action.

Well, maybe 'sprang' is a strong word.

"Howaya lads," she slurred exaggeratedly, taking a decisive step forward into the room and trying to pretend not to notice the impending shoot-up. "Got a damage report for you here, cap'n. Lisht of shtuff we'll be needing. Stem-boats, batchreez, a living crew." She glared pointedly in Sirco's and Sectator's general direction, missing by only a few metres. "There's plenty of oth' fights to be picked, boys. Act your age."

[Ameriganastan]

He had to think on it, but he covered his weapon back up and took a step back from the Hirogen.

Fine. I'd rather not get any more blood on me today anyway. Just know you're on my list, scales. You better do your best to not wind up in sickbay. Cause I may just misplace my anesthetic that day."

He straightened his coat and flopped down in the nearest chair.

"Oh, and Spots? Your drunk acting is awful."