The seeds of the new campaign begin to germinate....
The part of Celeste is played by Mira Sorvino
The part of Artinton is played by her father, Paul Sorvino
The part of Niko is played by Keanu Reeves
The Orions are known for a lot of things. Good manners have never quite
made the list.
In the hour and a half that Celeste had occupied the booth in the darkest
corner of the city's seediest bar, she had turned aside no fewer than twelve
unwelcome - and unimaginative - advances. With each successive drink, her
rejections became less civil, and more creative.
So when potential suitor number thirteen slid into the booth with her, she
rolled her eyes. {Not tonight, sailor,} she groaned in Orion Trader Tongue.
{I have a headache.}
The large green oaf looked her over closely, openly leering. The effect
Orion women had on men of all species was all-too-well documented. But
Orion men were suckers for a woman like Celeste. Tiny and almost stick-like
in comparison to the vuluptuousness of Orion women, Celeste also had one of
the strongest aphrodisiacs known to Orions: Blond hair.
"Headache. Funny this is to you, leetle geeerl?" His Standard was nowhere
near as good as her Trader Tongue.
"Not as funny as your breath," she shot back. She let her head drop forward
into her hand, her unruly dirty-blond hair spilling onto the table in front
of her. Maybe she should have stopped after only a handful of Tellarite
Slings.
Her booth-mate shrugged as he picked something green out of the jewel in his
front incisor. "A knife geeerl like you in a trace like deees?" he said,
chuckling. It was more of a chortle, actually. "Artinton assume you must
be weerking."
"Artinton assume too much," Celeste told him, pushing her hair back over the
top of her head. Her eyes took a moment to focus on his very large, very
green, very ugly face. It was only years of practice with this level of
intoxication that kept her from sharing those Tellarite Slings with the
Orion. "Now why don't you go home and tell your mommy she's calling you?"
she suggested.
Artinton shook his head. "Eef leeetle mammal geeerl weerking, then weerk
for Artinton, no?"
"If I were working, maybe," she allowed. "But the price would have to be
*really* right. And Artinton does not look like a quadrillionaire to me,"
she said.
He leaned closer, his eyebrows juking up and down. She leaned closer, and
his eyes flared yet again, along with his nostrils, as he felt her hand
brush his inner thigh.
His eyes jolted wide open, however, as he felt something very different than
he'd expected make contact with his groin. Her lips were against his ear
now. "For the last time," she whispered, "go home to mama. 'Cause if your
next words aren't 'good-bye', I'm going to give you one rather traumatic
vasectomy."
Moments later, he was gone, and she was sliding the Beretta blaster back
into his holster at her hip.
The chuckling began again, but this time it was far more familiar. "I
thought I was going to have to wait for you to come back downstairs," the
much younger, much less raspy voice told her.
"Bite me, Niko," she greeted him.
He tsked, in that low-pitched hissing way that Rihanha do. "Your father
wouldn't approve of your friends, Celeste."
"My father's not the disapproving kind," she told him, interlacing her
fingers and then resting her chin on the platform they provided. "Which is
good," she said, "because I have a feeling my friends aren't the only thing
he'd not approve of."
The Rihanha slid close to her, and she softened her body language. To
anyone watching, they were old friends, lovers, meeting up to share a drink.
It allowed them to lean close enough to whisper.
"So, why the urgent meeting?" she asked him.
"I understand your president is about to announce an ambassador to the Twin
Homeworlds," Niko whispered. "This. confuses us somewhat."
"In what way?" she asked.
"As a mere linguist and sociologist, there is no way you could know this."
He even managed to say it in such a way that it didn't sound like sarcasm.
"My people are feeling. disrespected."
"I can assure you," she said, meaning it, "that the United Federation of
Planets has nothing but the utmost respect for the Rihannsu Star Empire."
"Perhaps this is true," he allowed, his eyes still continuously scanning the
bar. "Starfleet, however, does not seem to share your high regard."
She allowed only a fractional change to the angles of her eyebrows. It was
enough to get her point across. "The border between our two empires," he
said, "is patrolled by Starfleet's Sixth Operational Fleet. Of all of the
Operational Fleets, the Sixth has the least. strenuous command. And it's
middle is rather soft. Some would feel that perhaps Starfleet does not see
the Rihannsu Star Empire as worthy of an adequate defense."
"Niko-" she started.
"But this is a military matter. Not one that a diplomat such as yourself
would be involved in. I merely wished to compliment you on finally
convincing your superiors that the Rihannsu Star Empire was worthy of a full
ambassador posting."
"We are growing in our friendship, after all," she commented, swirling the
last of her drink and then sipping at it. The time for gulping was long
gone now.
"So, then," he said, pulling away a bit, "is there anything you need to pass
along?"
In the world of big-league diplomacy, very little actually happens when
diplomats sit down face to face. The vast majority of the negotiating,
finagling, information sharing happens at the middle levels, in seedy bars,
back alleys, out of the way places.
Celeste's mind was in high gear, trying to put together things she only
barely knew. Federation politics, especially Federation-Rihannsu politics,
she knew very, very well. Starfleet, on the other hand, was a beast she
knew very little about.
But she did have some contacts. "Only," she told Niko, "that I will see
that this is looked into. I'll also do my very best to rectify what I can
assure you is only the *appearance* of disrespect."
"I have no doubt of this, Celeste. Good luck. And take care of yourself,
*l'rlthiah*." Pretty one. He left without another word.
Celeste waited a good half hour longer, enjoying the remainder of her drink,
mulling it all over. She would have to talk with her father, get his take
on what Niko had told her.
When her glass was finally empty, she paid her bill and ejected her credit
chip, sliding it into her pocket. She headed outside into the cool night
air and then turned right along the strip. Two blocks further she chose a
dark alley and headed into it, intending to contact the State Department
ship in orbit above to transport her out.
Before she could get the chance, however, she felt a very large, very strong
hand land on her shoulder. Ahh, yes, so that stench hadn't simply been left
over from Artinton's visit. "Remove your hand," she said softly, without
favoring him by turning around to face him, "or risk losing it."
The chuckle again. Damn, but she was really beginning to hate that chuckle.
"Leetle mammal geeerl, you are rude quite, but also pretty some. Artinton
like you."
She spun suddenly, and found herself facing not one huge foul Orion male,
but three. Damn. That changed the odds somewhat. Artinton had a sidearm
in his hand, aimed at her chest. With his free hand, he reached into her
jacket and removed her Beretta. She allowed it, seeing as how it seemed the
only way not to gain a window into her chest at the moment.
She smiled, and hmmmd. "Well," she admitted, "it would seem that you boys
have me at something of a disadvantage. Three of you, and just one of
little old me. Whatever is a girl to do?"
"Worry not, leetle geeerl," one of Artinton's companions assured her, "we
will tell you what to do."
"How about," she asked, trying a smile, "if I see if I can figure something
out?"
She spun again, this time chopping the legs out from under one attacker.
Her feet traded places and she kicked upwards at Artinton's hand, a move
that tossed her blaster into the air. She caught it, but quickly
reholstered it. A weapon in this fight? Someone could end up getting hurt.
With the first one out of commission and Artinton dazed, backpedaling, she
planted her left foot into the prodigious midriff of the third Orion and
then used that foot to step up into the air, bringing her other foot into
contact with his chin. She let the movement spin her around, and then she
rode his unconscious figure to the ground, stepping off him once he was
supine.
She turned back to Artinton to find his weapon coming to bear.
"Oh-oh," she said, ducking and turning to run to find some cover. She leapt
behind some discarded crates and a dumpster just as the weapon barked three
times in rapid succession, the shots showering her with mortar debris from
the wall. With her thumb she reset her own weapon to stun, then chanced a
shot, leaning her upper body around the corner of the dumpster. She had to
duck back before getting that shot. Hot sparks flew from the metal as it
exploded where Artinton's shot struck it.
"Let's talk about this like reasonable adults," she called out, heading away
at a spring in her crouched position.
"Is that not what weee errr doing?" he asked her.
She found the edge of the crate, then rolled away, ducking onto her
shoulder, firing down the alleyway as she cart wheeled across. Three shots.
Two of them found their mark in the center of Artinton's chest.
She fell against the far wall, and snuck a look out around the debris. No
one was moving. She took a deep, steadying breath, then reached into her
pocket for the communicator, flipping it open. "Sinclair to *Versailles,*"
she said into the device. "One to beam up. ASAP, please."
