Intermission – This Was Supposed to be My Day Off...
by Citizen Akamu "Ka'er" Makani
Post Details
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Ka'er rolled out of his bunk with a groan, cursing whatever idiot had invented alarm clocks. His time in the military had been a constant struggle with lack of sleep, no thanks to those infernal things. Every other area of Telian society was rather loose when it came to time, but not the military. Gods, that had been a rude awakening, literally, at the Academy.
Now, he enjoyed making his own hours. Nights went long, days started late. Just the way he liked it.
"Get up, Makani." Prince snapped. Slowly, Ka'er sat up and glanced tiredly at the chrono on the wall.
"Prince," he groaned. "Please tell me this is some sick joke and that clock is entirely wrong."
"Afraid not," Prince answered. Ka'er rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket over his head, resolutely ignoring the incessant beeping.
"Akamu, seriously," Prince said. "Get up. There's a message coming in."
Ka'er sighed and sat up. He staggered to his feet and across the cabin to the comms screen. "Display."
A face appeared on the screen. He was a little on the slender side, with jet black hair, olive skin,, and under heavy brows, gray eyes so dark they were almost black. He wore a Starfleet uniform with an undershirt that was the gold of operations, and lieutenant's pips at the collar. Ka'er couldn't make out much of the background, but it looked like a Federation starship.
"Colonel," he said, inclining his head by way of greeting. "You look well."
"I look like hell," Ka'er snapped. He always had what the Humans called "bed head" first thing in the morning. It was one of the curses of long hair.
The man chuckled softly. "Yes, but I thought I'd be polite."
"If you wanted to be polite, you might think about calling back at a more decent hour. You have any idea what time it is?”
“Ah, yes. Sorry about that, Colonel.” The man had the decency to appear sufficiently chastised. “I just got off duty. I thought about contacting you when I woke up tomorrow, but I thought it more prudent to do this now.”
“Prudent?” Ka’er repeated. “Obviously you don’t know me very well.”
The man laughed gently, then quickly sobered. “This is a matter of some urgency, Colonel.”
“What matter?”
“You’ve heard of the M’kora?”
“Of course,” Ka’er snapped, a little short-tempered. “One or the leading Telian crime syndicates. They specialize in stealing rare artifacts from conquered worlds.” He held his hands out, palms up, in a defensive gesture. “Not that I’ve ever had anything to do with them. I just know of them by reputation.”
“The thought never crossed my mind, Colonel.” The man shrugged. “The M’kora typically sell artifacts of alien origin, but it seems their definition of acceptable merchandise has expanded. Last month, they sold a small collection of Telian heirlooms to a Karemma merchant. The man came to Deep Space Nine not long ago, sold the artifacts to a Ferangi trader, who departed the station in a great hurry before I could intercept him.”
“And now they’re on their way to private collection, or a Federation museum,” Akamu finished, shaking his head sadly. “What does it matter? I’ve seen plenty of pieces of Telian art in Alpha Quadrant collections. They seem to think it’s pretty exotic.”
Instead of responding directly, the man appeared to hit a few buttons on his console, then a list of five names appeared on the screen, overlaying his face for a few moments.
“These aren’t just fine examples of Telian ethno-art,” Ka’er said.
“They’re pieces of our history,” the man agreed. “And they do have some special meaning to me personally. I know you don’t know me, Colonel, but…”
“I know exactly who you are, Lt. Telenar,” Ka’er interrupted. He wasn’t about to let the Lieutenant announce himself over an open channel. There was no telling who would be listening. Ka’er still hadn’t managed to rid himself of that nosy security officer. “And I understand the significance of the False Auryn and the Highborn Star to your Clan. Now, what does this have to do with me?”
Telenar considered Akamu through the screen, reevaluating his initial assessment of the Wolf. After a second’s consideration, he nodded his head shortly, then plunged ahead with the conversation as if the moment had never occurred.
“I checked the station manifest here on DS9.”
“Is that legal?” Ka’er interrupted.
“A lieutenant does have some privileges,” the man answered. “According the logs, the next stop for the Ferangi cruiser Desire is Deep Space Five.”
“So, you want me to intercept the Ferangi and authenticate the artifacts. If they’re the genuine article, I’m to acquire them, if possible. If they’re fakes…?”
“Destroy them.” Telenar ordered shortly. Akamu nodded his understanding.
“Now, I should be able to convince the Ferangi that they’re far less valuable than they really are, provided the Karemma didn’t know,” Ka’er said. “But the little troll’s still going to demand a pretty steep price for all five pieces, especially if they’re real.”
“I have some money set aside, as do a few friends of mine,” Telenar said. “It’s not an unlimited pool, but you should be able to get at least Auryn and the Star out of his slimy fingers. Hopefully Tiren’s Charge too.”
“I’m going to get all of it,” Ka’er swore softly. Any one of those heirlooms could mean the world to the Telian people. They were important artifacts, each and every one. None of them belonged in private hands, or worse, in a Federation museum collecting dust right alongside some stupid piece of Iconian pottery.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Telenar reprimanded. “Try and be diplomatic.” He sighed, then forced himself to meet Ka’er’s gaze. “Think of this as a test.” The line immediately went black.
“A test of what?” Akamu asked no one in particular. Thankfully, Prince seemed smart enough to know, at least in this instance, when not to answer a rhetorical question.
“Prince,” Akamu rocked back on his heels. “When are the Ferangi scheduled to dock?”
“The Desire is scheduled to dock in bay 4 at 1100 hours.” Prince sounded far more cheerful than was strictly neccessary at such an early hour.
Ka’er glanced over his shoulder at the chrono again. Only 0436. Plenty of time to get a few more hours rest before the Ferangi showed up to cause havoc.
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Akamu “Ka’er” Makani
Civilian Mercenary
Lt. Telenar (NPC)
USS Venture
Dark Prince (NPC)
Artificial Intelligence
by Citizen Akamu "Ka'er" Makani
Post Details
| Title | This Was Supposed to be My Day Off... | |
| Mission | Intermission | |
| Author(s) | Citizen Akamu "Ka'er" Makani | |
| Posted | Tue Feb 25, 2014 @ 8:41am | |
| Location | The Selen'ai | |
| Timeline | SD 74 : 0400 |
Ka'er rolled out of his bunk with a groan, cursing whatever idiot had invented alarm clocks. His time in the military had been a constant struggle with lack of sleep, no thanks to those infernal things. Every other area of Telian society was rather loose when it came to time, but not the military. Gods, that had been a rude awakening, literally, at the Academy.
Now, he enjoyed making his own hours. Nights went long, days started late. Just the way he liked it.
"Get up, Makani." Prince snapped. Slowly, Ka'er sat up and glanced tiredly at the chrono on the wall.
"Prince," he groaned. "Please tell me this is some sick joke and that clock is entirely wrong."
"Afraid not," Prince answered. Ka'er rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket over his head, resolutely ignoring the incessant beeping.
"Akamu, seriously," Prince said. "Get up. There's a message coming in."
Ka'er sighed and sat up. He staggered to his feet and across the cabin to the comms screen. "Display."
A face appeared on the screen. He was a little on the slender side, with jet black hair, olive skin,, and under heavy brows, gray eyes so dark they were almost black. He wore a Starfleet uniform with an undershirt that was the gold of operations, and lieutenant's pips at the collar. Ka'er couldn't make out much of the background, but it looked like a Federation starship.
"Colonel," he said, inclining his head by way of greeting. "You look well."
"I look like hell," Ka'er snapped. He always had what the Humans called "bed head" first thing in the morning. It was one of the curses of long hair.
The man chuckled softly. "Yes, but I thought I'd be polite."
"If you wanted to be polite, you might think about calling back at a more decent hour. You have any idea what time it is?”
“Ah, yes. Sorry about that, Colonel.” The man had the decency to appear sufficiently chastised. “I just got off duty. I thought about contacting you when I woke up tomorrow, but I thought it more prudent to do this now.”
“Prudent?” Ka’er repeated. “Obviously you don’t know me very well.”
The man laughed gently, then quickly sobered. “This is a matter of some urgency, Colonel.”
“What matter?”
“You’ve heard of the M’kora?”
“Of course,” Ka’er snapped, a little short-tempered. “One or the leading Telian crime syndicates. They specialize in stealing rare artifacts from conquered worlds.” He held his hands out, palms up, in a defensive gesture. “Not that I’ve ever had anything to do with them. I just know of them by reputation.”
“The thought never crossed my mind, Colonel.” The man shrugged. “The M’kora typically sell artifacts of alien origin, but it seems their definition of acceptable merchandise has expanded. Last month, they sold a small collection of Telian heirlooms to a Karemma merchant. The man came to Deep Space Nine not long ago, sold the artifacts to a Ferangi trader, who departed the station in a great hurry before I could intercept him.”
“And now they’re on their way to private collection, or a Federation museum,” Akamu finished, shaking his head sadly. “What does it matter? I’ve seen plenty of pieces of Telian art in Alpha Quadrant collections. They seem to think it’s pretty exotic.”
Instead of responding directly, the man appeared to hit a few buttons on his console, then a list of five names appeared on the screen, overlaying his face for a few moments.
“These aren’t just fine examples of Telian ethno-art,” Ka’er said.
“They’re pieces of our history,” the man agreed. “And they do have some special meaning to me personally. I know you don’t know me, Colonel, but…”
“I know exactly who you are, Lt. Telenar,” Ka’er interrupted. He wasn’t about to let the Lieutenant announce himself over an open channel. There was no telling who would be listening. Ka’er still hadn’t managed to rid himself of that nosy security officer. “And I understand the significance of the False Auryn and the Highborn Star to your Clan. Now, what does this have to do with me?”
Telenar considered Akamu through the screen, reevaluating his initial assessment of the Wolf. After a second’s consideration, he nodded his head shortly, then plunged ahead with the conversation as if the moment had never occurred.
“I checked the station manifest here on DS9.”
“Is that legal?” Ka’er interrupted.
“A lieutenant does have some privileges,” the man answered. “According the logs, the next stop for the Ferangi cruiser Desire is Deep Space Five.”
“So, you want me to intercept the Ferangi and authenticate the artifacts. If they’re the genuine article, I’m to acquire them, if possible. If they’re fakes…?”
“Destroy them.” Telenar ordered shortly. Akamu nodded his understanding.
“Now, I should be able to convince the Ferangi that they’re far less valuable than they really are, provided the Karemma didn’t know,” Ka’er said. “But the little troll’s still going to demand a pretty steep price for all five pieces, especially if they’re real.”
“I have some money set aside, as do a few friends of mine,” Telenar said. “It’s not an unlimited pool, but you should be able to get at least Auryn and the Star out of his slimy fingers. Hopefully Tiren’s Charge too.”
“I’m going to get all of it,” Ka’er swore softly. Any one of those heirlooms could mean the world to the Telian people. They were important artifacts, each and every one. None of them belonged in private hands, or worse, in a Federation museum collecting dust right alongside some stupid piece of Iconian pottery.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Telenar reprimanded. “Try and be diplomatic.” He sighed, then forced himself to meet Ka’er’s gaze. “Think of this as a test.” The line immediately went black.
“A test of what?” Akamu asked no one in particular. Thankfully, Prince seemed smart enough to know, at least in this instance, when not to answer a rhetorical question.
“Prince,” Akamu rocked back on his heels. “When are the Ferangi scheduled to dock?”
“The Desire is scheduled to dock in bay 4 at 1100 hours.” Prince sounded far more cheerful than was strictly neccessary at such an early hour.
Ka’er glanced over his shoulder at the chrono again. Only 0436. Plenty of time to get a few more hours rest before the Ferangi showed up to cause havoc.
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Akamu “Ka’er” Makani
Civilian Mercenary
Lt. Telenar (NPC)
USS Venture
Dark Prince (NPC)
Artificial Intelligence