We All Fall Down – Prescription
by Lieutenant Commander Maritza Soran (NPC)
Post Details
::ON::
Maritza looked at the clock. It was 2330. She'd been on the station for thirty six hours. She hadn't slept yet. And she couldn't until she had done one last job. But this job was personal, so she stopped briefly at her quarters, swapped her uniform for unremarkable civvies, and took a turbolift down to the belly of the station.
The bar wasn't a bar in the conventional sense, more a speak easy down on the lower industry decks where workers could stop by for a drink without dragging themselves a thousand floors up to the Promenade. It was dark, smoke from a communal hookah failing to escape harmlessly as there were few air extractors.
Drinks were served from a slab of metal placed across two cargo crates. The drinks came in small bottles out of more crates behind the makeshift bench. She didn't bother asking for one, just pushed a strip of latinum across to the lurian behind it. "I need the pharmacist."
The strip of latinum disappeared, and the lurian nodded towards the back, where the haze was thickest. Maritza followed his nod into the smoke, where it was almost impossible to see. Suddenly, a meter or so in front of her, a spot of red ashes glowed like the eye of a malevolent and long-slumbering god, and then a smoke ring rolled toward her.
"You wanted a pharmacist?" The voice was female, slightly wary. "You don't look the type Miss Prim and Proper."
Maritza didn't rise to it. "Gorune told me to come. He said you could hook me up."
"Depends what you want to be hooked up to." A stool scraped along the floor, propelled from out of the darkness. "Sit."
She sat. "Improvaline, nordesgranine, lexorin, synaptazine. A hundred CC's of each."
The voice spoke again. "That's quite a cocktail."
Maritza's face didn't move. "Can you do it?"
Through the smoke, Maritza saw the speaker lean forward. She was shocked to see that the woman speaking was a trill. The Pharmacist was wearing a short jacket that looked like it was made out of, ugh, animal skin, and had her hair in a thick blonde plait that fell over one shoulder almost to her waist. In one hand, the cigar she was smoking was down to maybe 5 centimeters. "I can do it. Ten strips now. Another 40 on delivery. And I don't negotiate."
Soran looked at the other trill for a moment. It was high, but not completely unreasonable. She pulled the strips from the pocket of her trousers and stacked them in front of the Pharmacist. "Nor do I."
"Then we have an accord. Be back here in 48 hours. I'll have the goods."
Maritza didn't bother with a reply. She nodded once, her jaw tight, and headed back to her quarters.
::OFF::
Lt Cmdr Maritza Soran
Chief of Strategic Operations
DS5
Hex
The Pharmacist
by Lieutenant Commander Maritza Soran (NPC)
Post Details
| Title | Prescription | |
| Mission | We All Fall Down | |
| Author(s) | Lieutenant Commander Maritza Soran (NPC) | |
| Posted | Sun Nov 16, 2014 @ 11:50pm | |
| Location | The depths of DS5 | |
| Timeline | WAFD MD03 2330 |
Maritza looked at the clock. It was 2330. She'd been on the station for thirty six hours. She hadn't slept yet. And she couldn't until she had done one last job. But this job was personal, so she stopped briefly at her quarters, swapped her uniform for unremarkable civvies, and took a turbolift down to the belly of the station.
The bar wasn't a bar in the conventional sense, more a speak easy down on the lower industry decks where workers could stop by for a drink without dragging themselves a thousand floors up to the Promenade. It was dark, smoke from a communal hookah failing to escape harmlessly as there were few air extractors.
Drinks were served from a slab of metal placed across two cargo crates. The drinks came in small bottles out of more crates behind the makeshift bench. She didn't bother asking for one, just pushed a strip of latinum across to the lurian behind it. "I need the pharmacist."
The strip of latinum disappeared, and the lurian nodded towards the back, where the haze was thickest. Maritza followed his nod into the smoke, where it was almost impossible to see. Suddenly, a meter or so in front of her, a spot of red ashes glowed like the eye of a malevolent and long-slumbering god, and then a smoke ring rolled toward her.
"You wanted a pharmacist?" The voice was female, slightly wary. "You don't look the type Miss Prim and Proper."
Maritza didn't rise to it. "Gorune told me to come. He said you could hook me up."
"Depends what you want to be hooked up to." A stool scraped along the floor, propelled from out of the darkness. "Sit."
She sat. "Improvaline, nordesgranine, lexorin, synaptazine. A hundred CC's of each."
The voice spoke again. "That's quite a cocktail."
Maritza's face didn't move. "Can you do it?"
Through the smoke, Maritza saw the speaker lean forward. She was shocked to see that the woman speaking was a trill. The Pharmacist was wearing a short jacket that looked like it was made out of, ugh, animal skin, and had her hair in a thick blonde plait that fell over one shoulder almost to her waist. In one hand, the cigar she was smoking was down to maybe 5 centimeters. "I can do it. Ten strips now. Another 40 on delivery. And I don't negotiate."
Soran looked at the other trill for a moment. It was high, but not completely unreasonable. She pulled the strips from the pocket of her trousers and stacked them in front of the Pharmacist. "Nor do I."
"Then we have an accord. Be back here in 48 hours. I'll have the goods."
Maritza didn't bother with a reply. She nodded once, her jaw tight, and headed back to her quarters.
::OFF::
Lt Cmdr Maritza Soran
Chief of Strategic Operations
DS5
Hex
The Pharmacist