From: Jamie LeBlanc (plainsimplegarak_at_yahoo.com)
Date: Wed Feb 20 2008 - 19:00:27 PST
"But I kinda Like the Music" (Continued from "Life is
But a Dream")
~*~*~*~*~*~
Location: GS2
Stardate: 2.80220.2000
Scene: Promenade
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Well I never been to England
But I kinda like the Beatles..."
~Three Dog Night
~*~*~*~*~*~
Clooney St. George sat morosely across the table
from his cameraman, Baxter Moorit, sipping his
Raktajino.
“Now, You have clearance to all Non-essential
areas of the CHANTICO for two hours every day to do
newsfeeds. You should count yourself lucky. You’re
the only reporter Commander Davidson would allow on
board.” Baxter was saying, as he pushed a padd and a
clearance card over to his employer.
Clooney said nothing, taking another sip of
raktajino, watching the slender black haired man.
Baxter gave a sigh, and grinned for show. “Your
personal shuttle will be able to ferry you for the
segments every day; I have the entire schedule worked
out. There should be plenty of time for you work on
the station after each recording session.”
“I see.” The reporter murmured back, adding more
sugar to his cup.
“It is really a perfect set up, you should feel
good about this.” Mr. Moorit grinned a little before
adding, “Think about it, Lynda is nearly home again.”
Clooney stared at him, nearly spitting his
raktajino all over the table. He set the cup down
carefully before leaning forward and slamming both of
his palms down on the tabletop so hard that the spoon
rattled and nearly jumped out of Baxter’s coffee cup.
“Don’t you ever say her name to me. You don’t get the
right.”
The skinny man blinked before giving his employer
an oily smile. “Did I hit a nerve?”
“You’re damn right you hit a nerve. If I had the
chance, I’d fire you.” Clooney St. George spat back
before standing up. He tossed his napkin into a pile
on the table and walked away, leave his cameraman
grinning slightly in his wake.
~*~*~*~*~
Scene: Storage Bay
Without the watchful eyes of Commander Davidson
on the station, Catwoman and Wingboy collectibles had
actually been selling faster. It was almost as if
everyone who had a passing interest felt safe buying
them with Daisy away. Zel had to close his shop cart
at lunchtime in order to head back to the storage area
and retrieve enough stock to last him through the
afternoon. He was just about to close up the storage
area and shut off all the lights when he heard
suspicious noises coming from the back entrance.
“Get down before someone sees us!” a panicked
young voice whispered.
The second voice, also a young male was quieter
and a bit calmer. “Don’t tread on me.” It hissed
back.
“I don’t want to get caught yet.” The first voice
countered.
“Should I lock you boys in or leave the light on
for you?” in contrast to the boys conspiratorial
tones, Zel’s voice was light and perky.
A head popped up from behind the crates, topped
with wavy brown hair. He stared momentarily at Zel,
his eyes going wide, and then popped back down,
hiding. The Cardassian hybrid allowed himself a
momentary chuckle. “What do we do?” the first voice
asked.
“Red lights are flashing around me, yeah, love,
it looks like they found me” the second voice replied,
and a slightly older boy stood up.
“No, get back down here and hide!” the first
voice urged.
Zel shook his head a little bit. “I highly doubt
hiding is going to do you any good anymore since I
quite clearly know you’re here.” He rocked back on
his heels a little bit. “Somehow I think you’ll be in
far worse trouble is I simply lock up and leave and
you have Starfleet security find you here.”
The younger boy’s head finally popped up from the
storage containers again and he sighed. “Are you
going to turn us in?”
Zel furrowed his brow ridges slightly. “Whyever
would I do that?”
“Isn’t that what adults usually do?” the younger
boy asked, furrowing his brow.
“Probably” the shopkeep nodded. “Fortunately
for you both, I happen to be a pretty terrible adult.”
He paused and looked them over critically in the dim
light. “You’re the Commander’s boys, aren’t you?”
It took them both a few seconds to respond, as if
they were somehow paranoid. Finally LJ nodded and
Gavi followed suit. Zel leaned back, recognization
sinking in. “I remember you from the reporter woman
incident. Gavi and LJ wasn’t it?”
The younger of the boys nodded. “Yeah.” He
paused, biting his lip. “You testified for us, didn’t
you? Mr. Zel?”
The little salesman shook his head. “Zel is
fine.” He paused, a nagging question still hanging in
the air. Zel was never one to dance around an issue
so he asked it. “So what are two fine boys like
yourselves doing hiding in the storage bay?”
“Well, we were grounded you see…” Gavi started.
“Grounded?” Zel looked at the floor. “On a space
station?”
LJ smirked slightly and shook his head. “Nobody
knows the trouble I’ve seen…” he sang lightly.
Zel nodded in understanding. “Ah, you got jail
time.” He furrowed his brow. “That’s pretty stupid.
The jail time, not you.”
“We weren’t supposed to be out in the first
place.” The younger boy groused, putting his hands on
his hips.
“Locked in your quarters?”
“Kind of.” The young Onaran pushed his hair out
of his face and sighed. “We have Erek and Arby as
guardians. We get to do ‘educational exercises’ which
are really boring.”
Rohan chuckled a bit. “Some would argue that
this entire station is boring.”
Gavirosh rolled his eyes a little bit. “Yeah,
but you can go wherever you want to, and watch people.
Sitting in your quarters all you can do is look out
at that dumb planet and the dumb stars that never
move.”
A sympathetic expression crossed Zel’s face and
he sighed slightly. “So you need a place to hide out
until the stop looking for you?”
“Indiana wants me, Lord I can’t go back there.”
LJ murmured, looking back at the main walkway of the
Promenade.
“So I’ll make you boys a deal then.” Zel
gestured down at the small pile of crates. “Help me
carry this back to my storefront and I’ll hide you
behind the counter until they stop looking.”
Gavi and LJ looked at one another, considering
the terms and finally the younger looked over, nodding
his head once. “Deal.”
~*~*~*~*~
Location: St. George Quarters
Clooney St. George toweled off his body after a
steaming hot shower and sighed. Flinging the towel in
the recycling bin, he stood in his otherwise empty
quarters wearing nothing but his boxers, letting the
sting of the cool air sink into his skin. For one
long second he looked up at the ceiling and opened his
mouth wide, as if to scream; but no sound came out.
Slowly he relaxed, falling onto the bed and
burying his head into the pillow. He had one face in
his head, and one only. His beloved sister, Lynda.
He had thrown up the night the news came in that
she was missing. His parents were divorced, and while
they both tried to make their children’s lives as
comfortable as possible, the St. George children had
bounced back and forth from parent to parent, living
with aunts, uncles and grandparents from time to time
as they grew up. So even though every parental figure
Clooney and Lynda had was caring, they never bonded
with any of them. Instead they both clung to the only
person who had been there the entire time: each other.
Lynda was a writer, and for the first few years
of Clooney’s reporter career they were never
separated. But as he gained fame and fortune his work
took his farther and farther from home. It had been
on one such trip that she had disappeared. He was
covering the Civil war on Antares VI, and she was
traveling to Betazed when the shuttle she was on was
hijacked. Worse, when it was found four days later,
the pilot and most of the crew were alive and well;
but three passengers were mysteriously missing. Lynda
St. George among them.
In many ways missing was worse than dead, and
Clooney had started an obsessive search for his
sister, until the answer came calling on him one night
in the form of a message from an unknown kidnapper.
He agreed to the meeting and followed all of the
instructions to the letter. He had hoped that they
would want money, or some political favor from his
fame.
It was much worse than he had imagined.
He met with a Vorta named Kessendril on the fifth
moon of Vega seven and heard, to his horror, that
Lynda was being kept in one of the Dominion work
camps. The Alpha quadrant has been developing better
and better ways of detecting changelings, and they
wanted an actual solid – one with access to every
corner of the universe by virtue of his pretty face
and press pass to help do their dirty work.
They gave him an accomplice: Baxter Moorit. As
far as Clooney could tell Baxter actually agreed with
the Dominion, and he worked for them of his own free
will. They had been together for three months and
Clooney already hated the man. He was far too
careless with morality and he actually seemed to enjoy
causing harm to others. It disgusted the reporter;
and at times like this it terrified him as well.
He worried about Lynda ever day. Some days he
was shocked that he hadn’t taken to heavy drinking
yet. Outside of his quarters he put on the happy
face: charming, sophisticated, pleasant, happy.
Inside he worried about what they had done to her, and
what they were doing to him.
Sighing, Clooney St. George stood up, got
dressed, and combed his hair. Baxter had told him
that he would be contacted on the CHANTICO and he
shouldn’t be late. He looked in the mirror.
A perfectly styled, handsome face smiled back at
him; and he was the only one who knew how hollow the
expression was.
~*~*~*~*~
Scene: Behind the Toy Shop Counter
‘Galaxy Disx’ were small sugary and mostly
tasteless; but they held the appeal of being both
cheap and brightly colored. The powered sugar they
were coated with was dyed with vegetable dye that
reacted with air, changing colors as you opened the
package, which delighted most children. That and they
were notoriously good at dying tongues, lips and teeth
obnoxious colors for short periods of time. Zel
remembered Galaxy Disx fondly from his childhood and
made it a point to keep a bowlful of them around by
his register to give out to customers. He grinned,
offering two wrapped Disx over to Gavi and LJ for
their services.
Both of them looked askance a little, and finally
Gavi piped up. “You know, Mom said were weren’t
supposed to take candy from strangers.”
“That’s fine.” Zel replied cheerily, setting one
Disx back into the bowl. He unwrapped the other one,
setting it on the back of his palm before flicking it
up and catching the multicolored sugar wafer in his
mouth. “More for me!”
Both teenaged boys eyes traveled upwards,
following the arc of the wafer and looked suitably
impressed at the catch. Gavi fidgeted and bit his lip
while LJ reached out, sneaking one of the Disx from
the bowl. “How do you do that?” the Onaran queried.
“Very carefully.” The shopkeep grinned, light
glinting off his teeth and earring at the same time.
“It takes balance and practice.”
LJ placed the wrapped wafer on the back of his
hand, mimicking the motions Zel had made as Gavi
watched dubiously. One he felt comfortable with the
flicking motion he unwrapped the candy and placed it
on his palm.
“You’re not really going to eat that, are you?”
Gavi asked, as if the candy would somehow be poisoned.
LJ blinked placidly back at him. “Don't be
afraid to try again. Everyone goes south. Every now
and then. You've done it, why can't. Someone else?”
He grinned and flipped the candy into the air,
catching it perfectly in his mouth. Zel clapped and
Gavi scowled, picking out a small stack of Disx for
himself.
Zel furrowed his brows a bit, rearranging the
‘Dominion Villains’ figure set, looking back to the
two boys. “Were those song lyrics?”
LJ nodded slight and Gavirosh bobbed his head,
his mouth stuffed full of Disx. When he spoke his
tongue and teeth were a vivid shade of blue. “That’s
how he speaks, in songs.”
The little hybrid nodded, not really wishing to
push the why; but it did help him understand how LJ
communicated. “Songs are very expressive.” He
murmured.
“Don’t you know any songs, Mr. Zel?” Gavi asked,
trying to flip the candy in the same way the
Cardassian and LJ had. It kept landing irritating on
the floor and he kicked a few stray pieces under the
cart.
Zel nodded. “Oh, I know a few, I picked them up
here and there.” He paused, climbing on to a chair to
hang up a dozen plush black cats. “And,
confidentially, it’s Mr. Rohan.” He winked at the
young Onaran as if he was allowing him to share in
some great secret.
Both boys paused, absorbing that and Gavi
grinned. “Can you sing one?”
“Maybe.” He paused, smirking. “What sort of song
should I sing?”
“What kind do you know?” the younger boy asked
back.
“Very serious songs. None of them fun at all.”
The shopkeep shook his head, inwardly trying to
remember songs that weren’t lewd, dirty, or both.
Gavirosh furrowed his brows in disbelief. “None
at all?”
“Ok, I do know one…” Rohan grinned a bit. “And
I can even sing it in old Earth.”
“Old Earth?”
Zel sighed a bit; aliens were so confusing.
“Isn’t that what they call the Terran language?
Earth? Terra? What?”
“Oh I never been to Spain, but I kinda like the
music…” LJ replied chuckling.
Gavi shook his head a bit. “I think Terrans used
to name their languages by groups of people rather
than the whole planet having a language.”
Zel perked a brow. “I see.” Taking in a breath,
his smile settled back on his face. “Well, whatever
language it is supposed to be in, that’s what I can
sing it in.”
“Then sing it.” The young Onaran pit his hands on
his hips.
Zel turned around and cleared his throat. He had
a very good singing voice, not that it mattered. This
song came out in a mangled mess of a rural Bajoran
mixed with twentieth century British accent sung with
all of the gusto of a Vaudeville sideshow.
“I'm Henry the eighth I am
Henry the eighth I am, I am
I got married to the widow next door
She's been married seven times before
And every one was an Henry (Henry)
She wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam (no Sam)
I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henry
Henry the eighth I am
Second verse same as the first!”
The small man winked at the boys, urging them to
join in. The song was certainly simple enough, and
slowly they sung along, not realizing that they were
gaining some attention for their show.
“I'm Henry the eighth I am
Henry the eighth I am, I am
I got married to the widow next door
She's been married seven times before
And every one was an Henry (Henry)
She wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam (no Sam)
I'm her eighth old man, I'm Henry
Henry the eighth I am!”
By the time he was done, both boys were laughing
so hard they had tears rolling down the sides of their
cheeks; and a small crowd had gathered around. One
man grinned and passed over enough money to buy four
plush cats, taking only one. More came up, clapping
and grinning. Gavi beamed, though LJ slid back below
the counter, unused to the attention and as quickly as
they gathered the small crowd cleared out, leaving
only one handsome Bajoran man walking up. Gavi’s eyes
went wide and he tried ducking down, to no avail.
“I thought I heard you boy’s talking.” Wangel
Erek’s voice was stern but not angry.
“It’s really my fault, Mr. Wangel.” The little
hybrid started, catching the taller man’s eyes as he
walked up. “I was asking questions, and they were
detained.”
Erek looked the Cardassian/Bajoran hybrid up and
down, his face settling into an even frown. “Mr…
Rohan,” He selected what he recognized as a Bajoran
last name despite what everyone else called the
shopkeep, “It is very difficult to detain children who
aren’t supposed to be out in the promenade in the
first place.”
Zel blinked innocently. “They are fairly old
boys, Mr. Wangel. You cannot tell me that they stay
cooped up all day?”
The taller man’s voice was polite, but firm.
“That really is none of your concern, Mr. Rohan.” He
looked over at the Gavi and LJ. “You boys are coming
home with me.” He was just turning to leave when
Zel’s voice interceded again.
“Mr. Wangel… if I may be so bold? Would it be
impertinent to ask if the boys can come speak to me
tomorrow?”
Gavi’s eyes flashed with hope. Any chance to get
out of their quarters was a good thing. “Can we?”
“What for?” Erek asked, looking from the boys to
the shopkeep and back.
Zel spread his hands out like a professional
dancer. “Musical instruction, of course!”
Wangel Erek shook his head slightly, chuckling
under his breath. “I’ll think about it.”
~*~*~*~*~*~
NRPG: Ahh, bonding for the boys.
I probably messed up the boys’ personality with the
last bit, but I will bank on the humor factor. If Kim
or Taylor hates it, please tell me.
As a sidenote, this follow on a plotbunny Kim had for
Clooney St. George. I created Baxter Moorit because I
thought there needed to be someone truly vile in the
mix. Clooney is basically instructed to sabotage
Starfleet’s efforts to help the Andaran children.
While he doesn’t know about the away team; he will be
doing things like messing up any medications or
perhaps sabotaging the station’s systems to prevent
things being transported to and from Andara.
Songs: “Stranger” Billy Joel; “Tread on Me” Metallica;
“Indiana Wants Me” R. Dean Taylor; “Never Been to
Spain” Three Dog Night; and, of course “Henry the
Eighth” Herman’s Hermits
~*~*~*~*~*~
Jamie LeBlanc
Civilian Zel Rohan
Shopkeep who thinks ‘grounding’ sounds like unfair
imprisonment
GATEWAY STATION
"Why do we fly? Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must"
~Julian Beck
____________________________________________________________________________________
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