Closing In

Posted on Wed Sep 4th, 2013 @ 2:09am by Vendenje Kamdram

Mission: Picking Up the Pieces
Location: Warp 12
Timeline: Current

The people around the table had been laughing. Many had been sharing stories of why they had come to Starbase 332, and others talked about their dreams and ambitions, their hopes, and even a few of their fears.

He had remained silent, listening to them speak, slowly sipping his drink. He knew the drink was fake; they didn’t serve real alcohol in here, but the flavor was enough until he could get the real thing.

A young girl – he had forgotten her name already – turned to him and flashed him the smile that had caught his attention earlier, and wrinkled her nose slightly. “What about you?” she asked. “You haven’t told us why you are here.”

The glass was barely an inch from his lips when he froze for a moment. No one noticed, but his hand was steady; not a ripple of movement etched across the surface of the amber fluid. He stared at it for a long moment. “Well,” Vendenje Kamdram began, “that is an interesting question, with an interesting answer.”

--

2 months ago.

“I can’t believe he lives in here,” one voice said.

“Lived,” another corrected. “Now he is a permanent guest of the Federation Marshals.”

“Of course, sir,” the first voice replied.

Investigator Lambert knelt down and peered at a blackened console. “Most of these don’t even work,” he said, his blond hair slicked black, his blue eyes sharp and intelligent. He sniffed the air; it smelled like body odor and stale alcohol. There was garbage all along the floor, and he dreaded to think what might be under it. “The ship is scrap,” he said.

Chief Marshal Marcus Dael, a tall, bald man with dark ebony skin, shook his head. “This ship is deceptive,” he said. He pointed at the consoles. “Most of those systems are rerouted to the helm station,” he said.

“Because they don’t work,” Lambert said. “So what?”

Dael reached out and slid his hand along the crease of the underside of the console. “They don’t work because…” He found what he was looking for. There was a click.

The tops of each of the non-function consoles slid back. They had been gutted, and inside were dozens of various types of weapons. “He’s done,” Dael said, his hands clasping together happily. “Vendenje Kamdram is done.”

--

The holding cells of the Ophidian were where prisoners were brought for processing before being transferred to their primary housing. In the primary housing they would be fed, clothed, and counseled. Some would even be rehabilitated enough to be released, but still others would remain for the rest of their natural lives.

“Good news, Kam!” Dael said as he entered the brig. “You were just approved for an extended stay.” He paused, frowning.

The center cell, where he had personally placed Kam, was dark. The overhead light flickered several times and then died completely, casting the chamber in shadow. “H… How the hell did you do that?” he asked.

There was no answer. “Kam?” Dael felt uneasy for a moment and drew his weapon before dropping the forcefield.

Inside were two of his guards, and Kam was nowhere in sight. “Son of a…” He turned and slammed his fist into the alarm button.

--

Archivist Marie Ansev bit her lip, looking back. “You only have a few minutes,” she said, looking at Kam.

Kam smiled at her and planted a long kiss on her lips. “Run along now,” he said to her. He ran up the ramp that led back into his Maquis Raider.

“Kam,” Ansev said, looking up at him. He paused and glanced back. She felt so conflicted. She loved him, but she knew what she was doing was wrong. “Be careful.”

“Always,” he said, smirking as he disappeared within. The Archivist had been kind enough to scramble the Ophidian’s sensors; it didn’t take them long to bring them back online, but by the time they did it was too late.

The Alei was gone.

--

The bar was dead so, after one too many drinks, Kam made his way out into the frozen night. He pulled his long coat around him tightly as he staggered down the frozen dirt road.

He could feel their eyes on him. He could see their shadows as they melted out of the darkness and into the street-light. The light was white and harsh and felt cold, as cold as the dead world he was on felt.

He stopped long enough to right himself, drawing his Bajoran phaser as he did. The cestus-like weapon fit around his fist snuggly, and he felt reassured by the weight of it. “You come to buy, or are you just here to threaten… Seb?” Kam said, turning back to the shadows.

Sebastien LeBlanc stepped out of the darkness. His handsome, youthful features twisted into a spiteful smile and he shrugged. “Maybe both?” he said, his words like brittle, dry honey.

Kam shot the man next to Seb in the face. Seb’s face twisted into one of shock and surprise as Kam, without missing a beat, shot another man. Seb drew his weapon, but Kam was already on him. Kam’s free-hand batted the phaser away and then came up, the back of his hand slapping Seb so hard it dropped him to the ground. Kam’s boot ground into Seb’s face as he pointed his phaser down at him. “Now,” he said, “I am open to negotiation. You know me to be a fair man, Seb.” Kam’s tone was even and low. “If you’d like to amend the terms of our agreement, I reserve the right to make a counter-revision. So here’s how we’re going to do this,” he said, his boot digging into Seb’s face, pressing his skull into the frozen ground. “I’m going to keep the guns, but, and this is where it gets good, but you are going to still tell me what I want to know.”

“Go to hell,” Seb spat, his words muffled by Kam’s boot.

Kam pressed harder, twisting his heel into Seb’s face. The man cried out, not in pain but in anger over his face being damaged. “Fine! Fine!”

“There we go,” Kam said, laughing. “I knew you’d be open to negotiation.” A few moments of silence passed and then he shrugged, moving his hands to either side of him. “Well?”

Seb sighed. “You can’t let me up first?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Seb felt Kam pressing again and held up a hand in mercy. “Starbase 332,” he said. “There is a woman there, her name is Raela. She knows Mosel. She knows how to find him.”

Kam lifted his boot away from Seb’s face. “I should kill you,” he said. “But since we go way back,” he added, his tone sarcastic, “I’ll let you limp on back to Daevro.” He smiled, waving his fingers at Seb. “Do send my love.”

Seb stood, adjusting his jacket, rubbing his jaw. “Screw you, Kam,” he spat.

“Screw me?” Kam just shrugged. “The language on you. Your mother would be so proud.”

In an act of bold defiance he turned his back on Seb and began walking away, back down to where he had landed his ship. Starbase 332, he thought. For a moment he thought about Deep Space 12 and a strange mixture of emotions came over him.

Here we go again, he thought.


--

Vendenje Kamdram (Bajoran Syntax, for clarification!)
Freighter Captain
SB332