(( Friday night when the Eurotas docked at TF Argo, Darius' First mate was sent down to the brig. Prior coordination was made to ensure that the leadership of the Task Force were aware of this and authorized the detention on the Starbase. Since we don't actually HAVE a brig, and I'm not feeling like creating an alt to simply RP out any visitors to it, I thought I would post this here and let anyone who likes the chance to chat IC with First Mate Herman Jones via forum RP. his character scheet can be found HERE for reference. On a side note, all my forum RP takes place in the brig... not sure what that says about me. :\ ))
* The brig on Starbase Argo. The first mate of the Eurotas lays alone on the bed, unconscious. Still in his spacers clothes, he was brought down here, in this state, on the order of the Eurotas Captain, Darius Fek, when the ship docked at the Starbase. *
Herman rubbed his eyes trying to stop the spinning room. It takes him a few moments to get sat upright on the bed. Here he'll stay for the next several minutes as the rest of the sedative wears off. As his vision clears, he realizes where he is. The brig of a Federation Starbase.
"Well, fuckin' great...." he mumbled to himself as he appraised his situation and the events that led him to here.
She probably shouldn't have stopped by. Her emotions were rustled by the previous conversation- make that most of her shift, in truth- and the agitation was worn plainly on her face. She was also tired. World weary. Launched from one turmoil't disaster to the next. How many times had she been in this brig in the past few weeks?
She didn't know what she expected to accomplish. Quaen accused her of pandering to curiosity, given what Captain Fek had said. She was inclined to agree; fortunately, Quaen shared that particular vice.
She earned an odd look from the security on duty-- no doubt they were wondering the same question she had asked just two paragraphs before.
Permission granted for lack of any reason to deny it, she stood before the man's cell, arms crossed over her waist, fingers tucked to the inside of her elbows, and gave a rather imperious sounding monotone greet of:
"Mister Jones."
She didn't know what she expected to accomplish. Quaen accused her of pandering to curiosity, given what Captain Fek had said. She was inclined to agree; fortunately, Quaen shared that particular vice.
She earned an odd look from the security on duty-- no doubt they were wondering the same question she had asked just two paragraphs before.
Permission granted for lack of any reason to deny it, she stood before the man's cell, arms crossed over her waist, fingers tucked to the inside of her elbows, and gave a rather imperious sounding monotone greet of:
"Mister Jones."
Herman looks up from his seat on the bunk. He hadn't met much of any of the Fleet officers. He had seen the Trill before on the promenade and once when she inspected the ship, but they'd never talked. He knew all too well Captain Fek's fluctuating opinion.
"Why am I being detained?"
"Why am I being detained?"
That wasn't the first question she expected from him.
It implied he was unaware of the situation; a victim, rather than a culprit. In the four second hesitation that followed it, a myriad of possibilities and doubt flooded unseen behind her placid expression.
Captain Fek had said he was a liar and a trickster, in which case this response could be expected if the man was going to protest innocence. Then again, what did she truly know of Captain Fek? Men she knew far better had succeeded with lies much more obvious.
She didn't know what to say- the best words to tease out the truth or confirm unlikely innocence. At the moment, the idea of word games merely made her feel older, wearier-- and so she simply told the truth.
"Captain Fek, ah, requested that you be held until another Sol Horizons vessel was in the system to escort you back to Sol."
It implied he was unaware of the situation; a victim, rather than a culprit. In the four second hesitation that followed it, a myriad of possibilities and doubt flooded unseen behind her placid expression.
Captain Fek had said he was a liar and a trickster, in which case this response could be expected if the man was going to protest innocence. Then again, what did she truly know of Captain Fek? Men she knew far better had succeeded with lies much more obvious.
She didn't know what to say- the best words to tease out the truth or confirm unlikely innocence. At the moment, the idea of word games merely made her feel older, wearier-- and so she simply told the truth.
"Captain Fek, ah, requested that you be held until another Sol Horizons vessel was in the system to escort you back to Sol."
Herman huffs at her with a slight smirk. "Please! I hope that's the case. When are they arriving then? What ship are they sending?"
He just shakes his head looking down at his feet. "Damn him...." he said, directed not at her but just in general."
He just shakes his head looking down at his feet. "Damn him...." he said, directed not at her but just in general."
It took a few more spare seconds of silence before the Trill answered him, contemplating the nature of his words. Then once again, truth:
"I am not privy to that information."
She says nothing more, in the hopes of prompting the man to further words. In many people, silence was an invitation to fill it.
"I am not privy to that information."
She says nothing more, in the hopes of prompting the man to further words. In many people, silence was an invitation to fill it.
"Yeah? Well I wouldn't hold your breath." Herman considers his wording for a second. "Though, maybe that's not such a bad idea."
Taps the bulkhead wall behind him. "Can I get a evo suit in here, just in case he does something crazy while the Eurotas is parked next to the space station?"
Taps the bulkhead wall behind him. "Can I get a evo suit in here, just in case he does something crazy while the Eurotas is parked next to the space station?"
With that single sentence, the Trill shed her weariness, demeanor formalizing with an almost predatory eye.
"Explain."
"Explain."
The large man's intellectual side shows, an unexpected element from a man who appears to be more spacer than book reader. "Do you know what a gravometric inversion is? I didn't... until a few weeks ago when I stumbled across some queries from the Captain in our outgoing comm system mentioning it. I tried digging into it but was circumvented by odd anomalies in the computer or well timed comms outages."
Herman shakes his head half frustrated, half annoyed. "Then there's been these odd parts we're picking up and then he's been dropping them of at Drozana Station.... I think he's building something. A sophisticated weapon perhaps, or a unique transportation device, maybe?" What ever it is, he could make millions of energy credits selling it to the right bidder."
Puts his hands up, the frustration bubbling back. "But, damn it.. I don't know what it is, or how he's doing it."
Herman leans forward looking directly into her eyes. "I can't do it, from in here."
Herman shakes his head half frustrated, half annoyed. "Then there's been these odd parts we're picking up and then he's been dropping them of at Drozana Station.... I think he's building something. A sophisticated weapon perhaps, or a unique transportation device, maybe?" What ever it is, he could make millions of energy credits selling it to the right bidder."
Puts his hands up, the frustration bubbling back. "But, damn it.. I don't know what it is, or how he's doing it."
Herman leans forward looking directly into her eyes. "I can't do it, from in here."
He's met with a cool green-eyed stare, Starfleet Calm-- the only indication that she just might be entertaining the notion is in the time it takes her to reply. It's a good twenty seconds before her voice, level and low, completely ignores the unspoken plea for release:
"Were these parts listed properly on the manifest? When do you suspect these peculiar shipments began?" Beat, then: "I will need further pertinent information, such as his contacts on Drozana, and the nature of Captain Fek's queries."
"Were these parts listed properly on the manifest? When do you suspect these peculiar shipments began?" Beat, then: "I will need further pertinent information, such as his contacts on Drozana, and the nature of Captain Fek's queries."
Herman takes a moment to digest the questions and tries to answer them in order.
"The parts were never on any manifest, mostly because we never transported them through a Starfleet outpost. As soon as we got them we went directly to Drozana. That being said, we don't always list... everything... on our manifests."
"The first of these packages was picked up about two weeks ago in an outpost in the Hromi sector. It was soon after that that I encountered the inquiry into gravometric inversion."
Herman pauses, rubbing his chin for a moment. "I don't know who he's selling whatever it is to. That must be his contact."
Shrugs, unsure about the rest.
"The parts were never on any manifest, mostly because we never transported them through a Starfleet outpost. As soon as we got them we went directly to Drozana. That being said, we don't always list... everything... on our manifests."
"The first of these packages was picked up about two weeks ago in an outpost in the Hromi sector. It was soon after that that I encountered the inquiry into gravometric inversion."
Herman pauses, rubbing his chin for a moment. "I don't know who he's selling whatever it is to. That must be his contact."
Shrugs, unsure about the rest.
"And are you certain he's selling it?"
Regardless of the answer- she doesn't question further and simply states: "Someone will be along to get a list of as many parts as you remember. Your cooperation is very much appreciated."
Regardless of the answer- she doesn't question further and simply states: "Someone will be along to get a list of as many parts as you remember. Your cooperation is very much appreciated."
"I don't know." He states to her first question.
He nods as she prepares to go, resting his chin in the palm of one hand as he thinks through all that has transpired.
He nods as she prepares to go, resting his chin in the palm of one hand as he thinks through all that has transpired.
The brig behind her, she hailed Argo Command with a query of: "Please locate Captain Fek at this time."
The response put an unsettled haste in her step. 'Captain Fek has departed by shuttle for DS9 at 1530 hours.'
Her next stop? Captain Dostroevski.
The response put an unsettled haste in her step. 'Captain Fek has departed by shuttle for DS9 at 1530 hours.'
Her next stop? Captain Dostroevski.