Interlude – War of words part 4
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Arrival Thomas Whitlock
Post Details
ON:
OLD:
She gave him a cold look that promised retribution for such lechery. "Do you have a card Mr Whitlock?"
Thomas nodded and pulled a card from his pocket, brushing her hand as he handed it to her.
"I will contact you later." She told him. "I intend to examine exactly how much context you can handle."
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NEW:
-----------
A few slips of latinum passed across the bar in a tiny and disreputable bar/diner in the lower docking ring pointed him in the direction of an unused storage bay where he was assured he could find more than a few adolescents who rejected all authority, and the likely hangout of Gral.
Since it was long term storage, the lights on the deck were minimal, but it wasn't sight but scent that guided him through the maze of crates, boxes and junked parts. it was the sickly sweet smell of half a dozen mind-altering substances, rolled together and stewed in their own juices.
Sprawled over the top of a large storage box, were three boys, a bajorran, and two humans? Maybe. In the low orange light it was hard to tell if they were terran, or the closer looking races. They were sharing something that was bubbling in a hookah, and hadn't appeared to have noticed his approach.
"Gral," Thomas said, taking a chance that one of them was the man he was looking for, "I'd like to have a word with you."
The bajorran boy looked up as if electrocuted. He took in Thomas, spat the hookah pipe from his mouth and leapt to his feet. Before Thomas could move he was running, charging straight for the journalist, shoving past him, dashing towards the exit before Thomas could make grab for him.
"I just wanted to talk," Thomas yelled as he turned and ran after the boy.
Gral slithered around the crates and boxes that obscured the line of sight from the storage bay doors, heading for the exit
"Stop!" Thomas yelled to the man as he weaved through the crates. "I just want to talk."
The bajoran boy heard Thomas close behind and picked up the pace. He practically ran into the door, slamming the heel of his hand against the switch with an audible thump, and was squeezing through the gap between the doors as soon as they were wide enough to get through.
Thomas ran through the doors and turned to run after the boy. He made a mental note to start spending more time on the gym as he ran faster, trying to close the gap.
Gral turned out into the main corridor, where work crews mde of civilians and the lowest ranks of Starfleet moved slowly, carrying tools and parts, or pushing anti-grav trolleys piled with various items. running along side one such cart, with Thomas bare meters behind, he grabbed the deckhand pulling it, and wrenched on his shoulder.
The man went spinning into Thomas' path, at the same time tipping the cart to its side, spilling its contents of runabout spare parts across the corridor behind Gral.
Thomas hopped to the side and almost lost his footing as he landed on one of the rolling parts on the floor. He caught himself and managed to keep from falling. He looked a Gral and sighed as he realized the boy was getting away. Out of desperation, Thomas grabbed one of the parts and threw it at the boy before he started running again.
The cannister was heavy, and came down short of Gral's head, instead catching him in the back of the knee. Gral stumbled, then tripped completely over his own feet, sliding and slipping until he crunched his face against a bulkhead, and hesitated for a moment, completely stunned.
Thomas smiled inwardly as he slid to a stop and grabbed the boy by the shirt, lifting him to his feet and slamming him against the wall. His mind flashed back to his first encounter with Commander Gabriel and he shook his head. "Hold still," Thomas said to the boy. "I just want to talk."
"Wasn't me!" the boy protested, and brought his knee up sharply into Thomas' groin.
Thomas flinched at the movement and managed to partially avoid the blow. He could feel the nausea rising as he doubled over a little. He looked at the boy and growled. "You don't even know what I want to talk about," he managed after a moment.
Gral tried to pull free of Thomas' grip, without much success. "Ain't got nothing to say. Didn't do nothing." He tried to elbow out of Thomas's arms.
Thomas took the elbow on his arm and punched the boy in the face. "Stop struggling, dammit." He slammed Gral against the wall again then turned and threw him to the ground. "I just want to talk."
At the third repetition, it seemed to get through to the youth, who stopped struggling as much. "What about?"
"Why did you deface the Box of Delights?" Thomas asked.
The boy sniffed, rubbing at his sore nose. "Are you security. Cos if you are I'm not saying nothing. If you aint, then its gonna cost you. Two strips latinum"
"One strip," Thomas replied, looking at the boy again. "And I want the truth."
The boy thought about it. "Got the cash?"
"Give me the information I want and I'll give you the latinum," Thomas replied, pulling a strip out of his pocket, holding it up out of the reach of the boy.
Gral looked at it hungrily. His eyes darted from the metal to the surrounding corridor and back again for a few seconds. "Got paid, didn't I? Some guy came up to me in the klingon bar a few nights ago. Offered me a shitload if I'd do a scratch 'n' spray job on the new bar."
"What guy?" Thomas asked, pulling out another strip of latinum. He was getting low and hoped this encounter would end soon.
"Didn't ask names." The boy had a tone to his voice that implied he wasn't that stupid. "One of them lot what looks like moles. All wrinkles. Wasn't too fussed what he wanted, just something foul and noticeable. Gave me five strips straight up, no questions. So I did it last night."
Thomas looked at him and nodded. "Is there anything else you can tell me about him?"
Gral shook his head, making his earring jump and swing. "like I said. He came up to me in Qu'its. Didnt make to many introductions. Said I'd only see him again if I didn't do the job quick. So I did." He grinned. "Gossip on the promenade says I wasn't too far from the truth either."
Thomas looked at him and smiled. "Thanks for your cooperation," he said, turning and starting to walk away.
"hey! I want my money." Gral made a grab for it as Thomas turned away.
"What?" Thomas asked, turning to face the boy again. "Oh, right. I'm a man of my word," he said as he handed the latinum to the boy. "There's more where that came from if you happen to come across anything else that may be of interest," he added as he turned and walked away from the boy, weaving through the crowds.
OFF
Thomas Whitlock
FNS Reporter
&
Gral Leffin, nasty little oik
by Yolanthe
by Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Arrival Thomas Whitlock
Post Details
| Title | War of words part 4 | |
| Mission | Interlude | |
| Author(s) | Alderman Yolanthe Ibalin & Arrival Thomas Whitlock | |
| Posted | Wed Jun 30, 2010 @ 9:23pm | |
| Location | Lower decks | |
| Timeline | SD 25, afternoon |
OLD:
She gave him a cold look that promised retribution for such lechery. "Do you have a card Mr Whitlock?"
Thomas nodded and pulled a card from his pocket, brushing her hand as he handed it to her.
"I will contact you later." She told him. "I intend to examine exactly how much context you can handle."
----------------
NEW:
-----------
A few slips of latinum passed across the bar in a tiny and disreputable bar/diner in the lower docking ring pointed him in the direction of an unused storage bay where he was assured he could find more than a few adolescents who rejected all authority, and the likely hangout of Gral.
Since it was long term storage, the lights on the deck were minimal, but it wasn't sight but scent that guided him through the maze of crates, boxes and junked parts. it was the sickly sweet smell of half a dozen mind-altering substances, rolled together and stewed in their own juices.
Sprawled over the top of a large storage box, were three boys, a bajorran, and two humans? Maybe. In the low orange light it was hard to tell if they were terran, or the closer looking races. They were sharing something that was bubbling in a hookah, and hadn't appeared to have noticed his approach.
"Gral," Thomas said, taking a chance that one of them was the man he was looking for, "I'd like to have a word with you."
The bajorran boy looked up as if electrocuted. He took in Thomas, spat the hookah pipe from his mouth and leapt to his feet. Before Thomas could move he was running, charging straight for the journalist, shoving past him, dashing towards the exit before Thomas could make grab for him.
"I just wanted to talk," Thomas yelled as he turned and ran after the boy.
Gral slithered around the crates and boxes that obscured the line of sight from the storage bay doors, heading for the exit
"Stop!" Thomas yelled to the man as he weaved through the crates. "I just want to talk."
The bajoran boy heard Thomas close behind and picked up the pace. He practically ran into the door, slamming the heel of his hand against the switch with an audible thump, and was squeezing through the gap between the doors as soon as they were wide enough to get through.
Thomas ran through the doors and turned to run after the boy. He made a mental note to start spending more time on the gym as he ran faster, trying to close the gap.
Gral turned out into the main corridor, where work crews mde of civilians and the lowest ranks of Starfleet moved slowly, carrying tools and parts, or pushing anti-grav trolleys piled with various items. running along side one such cart, with Thomas bare meters behind, he grabbed the deckhand pulling it, and wrenched on his shoulder.
The man went spinning into Thomas' path, at the same time tipping the cart to its side, spilling its contents of runabout spare parts across the corridor behind Gral.
Thomas hopped to the side and almost lost his footing as he landed on one of the rolling parts on the floor. He caught himself and managed to keep from falling. He looked a Gral and sighed as he realized the boy was getting away. Out of desperation, Thomas grabbed one of the parts and threw it at the boy before he started running again.
The cannister was heavy, and came down short of Gral's head, instead catching him in the back of the knee. Gral stumbled, then tripped completely over his own feet, sliding and slipping until he crunched his face against a bulkhead, and hesitated for a moment, completely stunned.
Thomas smiled inwardly as he slid to a stop and grabbed the boy by the shirt, lifting him to his feet and slamming him against the wall. His mind flashed back to his first encounter with Commander Gabriel and he shook his head. "Hold still," Thomas said to the boy. "I just want to talk."
"Wasn't me!" the boy protested, and brought his knee up sharply into Thomas' groin.
Thomas flinched at the movement and managed to partially avoid the blow. He could feel the nausea rising as he doubled over a little. He looked at the boy and growled. "You don't even know what I want to talk about," he managed after a moment.
Gral tried to pull free of Thomas' grip, without much success. "Ain't got nothing to say. Didn't do nothing." He tried to elbow out of Thomas's arms.
Thomas took the elbow on his arm and punched the boy in the face. "Stop struggling, dammit." He slammed Gral against the wall again then turned and threw him to the ground. "I just want to talk."
At the third repetition, it seemed to get through to the youth, who stopped struggling as much. "What about?"
"Why did you deface the Box of Delights?" Thomas asked.
The boy sniffed, rubbing at his sore nose. "Are you security. Cos if you are I'm not saying nothing. If you aint, then its gonna cost you. Two strips latinum"
"One strip," Thomas replied, looking at the boy again. "And I want the truth."
The boy thought about it. "Got the cash?"
"Give me the information I want and I'll give you the latinum," Thomas replied, pulling a strip out of his pocket, holding it up out of the reach of the boy.
Gral looked at it hungrily. His eyes darted from the metal to the surrounding corridor and back again for a few seconds. "Got paid, didn't I? Some guy came up to me in the klingon bar a few nights ago. Offered me a shitload if I'd do a scratch 'n' spray job on the new bar."
"What guy?" Thomas asked, pulling out another strip of latinum. He was getting low and hoped this encounter would end soon.
"Didn't ask names." The boy had a tone to his voice that implied he wasn't that stupid. "One of them lot what looks like moles. All wrinkles. Wasn't too fussed what he wanted, just something foul and noticeable. Gave me five strips straight up, no questions. So I did it last night."
Thomas looked at him and nodded. "Is there anything else you can tell me about him?"
Gral shook his head, making his earring jump and swing. "like I said. He came up to me in Qu'its. Didnt make to many introductions. Said I'd only see him again if I didn't do the job quick. So I did." He grinned. "Gossip on the promenade says I wasn't too far from the truth either."
Thomas looked at him and smiled. "Thanks for your cooperation," he said, turning and starting to walk away.
"hey! I want my money." Gral made a grab for it as Thomas turned away.
"What?" Thomas asked, turning to face the boy again. "Oh, right. I'm a man of my word," he said as he handed the latinum to the boy. "There's more where that came from if you happen to come across anything else that may be of interest," he added as he turned and walked away from the boy, weaving through the crowds.
OFF
Thomas Whitlock
FNS Reporter
&
Gral Leffin, nasty little oik
by Yolanthe