From: Jamie LeBlanc (plainsimplegarak_at_yahoo.com)
Date: Tue Apr 15 2008 - 20:58:22 PDT
“Martial Law: Part 1” (Continued from "Purr")
~*~*~*~*~*~
Location: GS2
Stardate:
Scene: Promenade
Time Index: All of these events take place before the
post “Purr” See individual sections for the time
line.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“Oppression can only survive through silence.”
~Carmen de Monteflores
~*~*~*~*~*~
~Monday~
Morning fell heavily on the Promenade,
accompanied by a thick silence. The major view
screens all showed the same proclamation in the same
large capital letters: Curfew for all civilian persons
without nighttime work permits, strictly enforced at
2200 hours, until 0700 the next morning. Small clumps
of people gathered around the signs, reading and
groaning. The more stalwart of the businesspeople
murmured that if Starfleet decided to place a curfew
that something was going on, and it must be ‘for the
best’ while the owners of the various taverns, bars
and clubs slowly let their jaws drop in outrage.
Closing at 10pm was like a death sentence for their
profit margin.
Slowly they started to disperse, partially
because the screens didn’t offer up any further
information or explanation, and partially because
armed marines were making regular rounds, and had a
tendency to glare at any gathering with the look of
‘disperse or there will be trouble.’
Sitting behind his cart, Zel fidgeted, as if he
had fire ants in his shoes. He didn’t like a sudden
increase of rules and regulations; so now more than
ever he wished he had the money to get off their
station. Leaning back, flicking a Galaxy Disx up into
the air, he let his mind wander to less legal ways of
sneaking himself off the station. As the multicolored
candy melted across his tongue he almost didn’t notice
a man walking directly up to him.
“Are these for sale?” A tall, lean Orion asked
him, picking up one of the Commander Catwoman special
limited edition Dominion love slave dolls.
Zel’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t sold one of the
dolls in three days. “Y-yes.” The words stammered out
as he wiped a small bit of blue from his lips.
“Everything you see is for sale; except the cart of
course.”
“Of course.” The man gave a thin chuckle and
started pawing through things. “These are nice
collectibles. I suppose with the sudden downturn in
events they aren’t so popular anymore.”
“You can never predict the market.” Rohan
replied, cattily.
The Orion chuckled and shook his head. “No, you
really can’t. Though I have a gut feeling about
things. I think they might go up in value in the next
few months as this settles.” He paused, toying with
one of the Wingboy statues. “I’m interested in buying
them.”
Zel leaned forward. “Ok, which ones?”
“All of them. Your entire inventory. I’ll pay
premium prices.”
The tiny hybrid perked both brow ridges in
surprise. “I don’t have my entire inventory stock in
the cart…”
The man waved his hand. “I mean all of it. I
consider it an investment.”
“I can’t give you a clear price until tomorrow
when I recalculate the inventory. Would you be
willing to come back Mr…?”
“Nelo. Peldig Nelo.” He extended a greenish hand
and shook. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance Mr.
Rohan.”
“Zel.” He automatically corrected.
“My apologies, Mr. Zel.” The Orion gave an oily
smile, one that the little shopkeep just didn’t trust.
And yet money was money. Zel needed money badly. He
waffled inwardly for a few seconds before looking up.
“I will have all the documentation ready for you by
1300 tomorrow.”
“I’ll see you then.” Nelo winked before turning
and strolling back across the Promenade.
~*~*~*~
~Tuesday~
In the middle of the night last night a virus has
been coded into the main station computer, and
replicators everywhere started pouring boiling hot
Tarkalian tea from their beverage dispenser.
Engineering teams were dispatched to fix the problem,
and seven people were taken to sickbay and treated for
mild to moderate burns.
That morning on the Promenade, a team of Marines
flanked every corridor, and the Federation bureaucrats
had their hands full issuing permits for business
owners to travel to and from the cargo bays. It was
one of the few times in Zel’s life that he had taken
care of something in a timely fashion and it actually
benefited him. He had spent yesterday afternoon
inventorying the remainder of his stock, ready to meet
Peldig Nelo after noon. The Orion was perfectly
punctual, appearing exactly at 1300 hours with a very
large sun of money to back up his offer. The
discussions went smoothly. Too smoothly in Zel’s
mind, and he settled the entire inventory for a very
handsome profit, even with the donation to the Andaran
charities taken away.
“You know, if you’re done with this station, Mr.
Zel… I’d get out before they decide not to let any of
us leave again.” Was the last thing the Orion has said
before taking his paperwork and leaving.
Zel blinked at that, watching the man’s back
recede. Those sorts of statements didn’t sit well for
him, like a foretelling of doom.
So now he was cleaning out his cart as Nelo
arranged for the inventory to be moved and packaged.
The few people still out and about on the Promenade
walked in a contained, paranoid fashion, constantly
being watched by an array of security and Marine
details. It made for a very quiet day, one that led
Zel to thinking.
And thinking always got him in trouble. After about a
half hour of it, he had decided that Peldig Nelo
deserved some checking out, and to do that Zel needed
an accomplice. So, packing his cart up and locking
it, he set off for one of the few people on the
promenade that hadn’t shown him any irrational
hostility.
~*~
He stuck his head inside the Pet Shop, blinking
at the bright lights and grinning slightly at a
hyperactive puppy trying to climb out of its kennel.
A well-dressed older man appeared almost immediately
thereafter. “Can I help you, sir?”
Zel looked up, eyes glittering. “Do you have
any… chickens?”
Anthony Giles furrowed his brow, staring back at
the odd little man. “This is a pet store, sir, not a
farm store…”
“Why can’t one have a pet chicken?” Zel asked,
innocently. Truth be told he had always wanted one.
Giles creased his brow. “What would you do with
a pet chicken? And please don’t tell me that you’d
eat it.”
Rohan looked aghast at the very idea. “Why in
the world would I eat the chicken? If I ate it, it
wouldn’t lay any eggs anymore!”
The pet storeowner shook his head a bit, “you
wouldn’t eat the chicken, but you would eat the eggs?”
“Eggs are delicious.” Zel returned. “Beisdes, if
there is no daddy-chicken…”
“Rooster.” Giles corrected.
“As I said, Daddy-chicken” Zel continued
irascibly, “around, then the eggs wouldn’t ever grow
into chicks and they would just rot. Better to eat
them.”
“Do you know anything about rasing chickens?”
Anthony asked, folding his arms across his chest.
Zel shook his head. “No, but I could learn!” He
grinned.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any chickens and I
don’t expect to get any in.” Giles replied firmly. He
watched as the small man signed and deflated a bit.
Convinced the odd shopkeep had been deterred, Giles
went back to trying to remove a destroyed cat toy from
the kitten pen.
“Can I ask you a question?” the hybrid’s bright
voice returned from the other side of the shop. Giles
snapped his head up, slightly exasperated.
“Mr… Rohan is it?”
“Zel”
“Alright, Mr. Zel, are you looking for an animal
today?” Anthony asked, with a tone of frustration
running through his voice.
Zel shook his head. “No, I’m not really looking
for an animal.” He smirked as he saw the sigh of
relief that went though Giles’ frame. “I’m looking
for a bit of help, actually.”
Giles frowned a bit. “Help? What sort of help
could I provide?”
“Well, have you seen what has been going on
lately?” The Cardassian started.
Anthony put a hand on his hip. “Do you mean the
power outages or the curfew?”
“Well, both, because they are probably
interconnected, but mostly the curfew. Doesn’t it
bother you?” he asked, watching the older man with a
keen gaze.
“Mr. Zel, I’m getting old. I have no desire to
stay up and party past 10, so, no. It honestly
doesn’t bother me.”
“And what about the fact that they arrest nine
people last night, just for breaking curfew, and even
though it’s well past noon, they are still in the
brig?” the hybrid shot back.
Giles shook his head. “I heard about it. But
they were all rabble from Schroedinger’s Cat”
“Yeah.” Zel nodded in agreement. “And that’s why
they were chosen. Because no one really cares about
‘rabble from Schroedinger’s Cat.’” He paused, watching
the older man. “But what happens when it becomes
‘rabble from O' Shaughnessy's Irish Pub’ or ‘rabble
from The Illogical Eatery’” He stared at Giles firmly.
“I highly doubt they would do that…” Anthony
started, but his voice wasn’t as sure anymore. The
entire Promenade had been tense lately, and today it
was downright ghostly.
“They are looking for a saboteur… they will do
anything the deem necessary.” The Cardassian murmured
back.
“So what sort of help do you need from me?”
Anthony asked. He was skeptical, but intrigued.
“I need access to your computer terminal. I don’t
have anything more than a basic comm. link in my
quarters.” Before Anthony could express his
reservations, Zel added, “I promise I don’t have
anything illegal planned, you can watch me, and if
anyone comes to ask about it, you can turn me in.” He
paused and gave the older man an impeccably innocent
grin. “Please?”
:what do you have in mind?” Anthony asked evenly.
“I need to get into the civilian records. I want
to pull up someone’s information.” The shopkeep
answered.
Giles perked a brow. “Who?”
Zel gestured him to go to his back office.
“Come, I’ll show you…”
~*~
Giles was impressed with the speed and ease that
the small man navigated the computer system. In a few
minutes he had pulled up all the public information on
an Orion trader named Peldig Nelo. “What’s special
about this man?” he asked.
“Well, nothing, really… except that he’s new here
– newer than I am - and he’s a very odd fellow.” The
Cardassian replied, bring up one of the computer
subroutines and starting to pick out the source code
of Nelo’s documents.
Giles shook his head a bit. “And that makes him
bad?”
“No. It simply makes him suspicious.” Zel smiled
a bit as the page turned into a long string of code.
“What are you doing?” the pet storeowner asked,
leaning over to get a better look at the screen.
Zell let his fingers move across the keypad as he
spoke. “A little trick I picked up from a freighter
captain for detecting fraud. If you break a document
down into its original code, rebuild it, and then
reload it through the correct processor, you can get
it to display when the information was actually
created, rather than just the dates given.”
Giles perked a brow. “Does that really work?”
“Unless the person who created the original
document was a very good computer programmer, it does.
Useful in finding whether or not something is
legitimate or has been created for the occasion.” Zel
smiled a bit, letting the document process and reload.
“This should pop up with a whole mess of dates, and…”
he trailed off as the new document came back up on the
screen, his jaw falling open.
“What?” Giles asked, leaning forward.
Zel tracked his finger down the lines of data.
Every single entry read the same date – not more than
a week old. “This entire document was created and
embedded into the station databanks less than a week
ago.”
“So what does that prove?”
Zel sighed. “I don’t know. Either the
Federation had no information on this man before he
arrived on Gateway station, or Peldig Nelo doesn’t
really exist.”
“Shouldn’t you take this to the authorities?”
The hybrid bit his lip. “I don’t know. I don’t
know how much I trust the authorities right now. And
it’s inconclusive evidence at best… but it furthers my
suspicions.”
Anthony chewed his lip for a bit. “I might be
able to reach someone with some sense.” He murmured,
thinking about Randall. “If you find anything
conclusive, do tell me.”
Zel nodded, relinquishing Mr. Giles’ computer. “I
will.”
~*~*~*~*~
~Wednesday~
The view screens were back on. This time there
was no grumbling from any of the shop owners, just a
dull, blank-faced stare. It had been ten minutes
since people appeared at 0700 and words seemed stuck
in midair, lingering somewhere in the back of the
throat.
{{ALL off station travel is hereby prohibited
until further notice. Any incoming passengers or
cargo must be pre approved and will be held for a
48-hour quarantine period before being released on to
the station}}
They had read it over and over again, and still
it didn’t want to sink in. They were all trapped
here.
~*~
It was mid afternoon by the time Randall finally got
enough time to take what served as a lunch break, and
he decided to answer a long delayed call. “Hey,
Anthony, you ho-ome?” he yelled into the shop.
“I’m in the back,” came the elder brother’s crisp
reply.
Randall Giles took in a long breath, and made his
way past the animal pens, to the small office area
where his brother sat by a desk, reading missives on
his computer screen. “You wanted to see me?” The Ops
officer asked.
“Randall…” Anthony started, turning towards him.
Randy could hear the door hissing shut behind him.
“What the hell is going on?”
The younger man blinked a little. “What do you
mean..?”
“You know what I mean, Randall. Curfews,
restricted areas, no traffic on or off the station.
I’m your brother and for the last week you haven’t
been talking to me, or anyone else for that matter. I
want to know what is happening on this station.” He
put his hands on his hips, looking up with such
ferocity that it made the younger man blush.
“There is… a problem…” the Starfleet officer
started slowly.
Anthony nodded, his voice betraying the anger
pent up inside. “Yes, a very big problem. Everyone
on this station is getting paranoid, and angry.
You’ll have riots on your hand if you don’t stop.
From what I have heard that has happened before here.”
Randall shook his head. “They shouldn’t riot.
They’ll be shot.”
“What?!” his brother snapped back. “Listen to
what you just said!”
“Anthony!” The Ops officer finally put his hand
down on the desk, kitting it hard enough to rattle the
coffee cup sitting on it. “Listen to me. You don’t
understand all the factors I am dealing with. There
is a dangerous situation onboard the station, and I am
walking a thin line in-between my duty to this
station, and my position as it relates to the other
officers onboard…”
The elder watched the younger for several long
seconds before speaking. “So you’re not the one
making these decisions are you?”
Randall shook his head slowly. “No,” he groaned.
“I thought you were left in command?” Anthony
folded his hands across his chest.
He sucked in a long breath, leaning back against
the pet shop door. “I was… but Starfleet Ops aren’t
the only contenders for station control here.”
The shop owner narrowed his eyes, and thought
about that for a second. “You mean the marines?”
Randy took in a breath, and admitted something he
would only tell his older brother, something he had
been trying to hide from the rest of the Starfleet
staff left on the station. “I’m not Commander
Davidson, or Commander Kor. They know that I am the
person left in charge, not the person who is
*supposed* to be in charge.”
“And so they are taking advantage of your
position and your lack of self confidence, but
instituting any rules they think necessary without
regard to Federation laws?” Anthony shot back.
“I, no!” Randy started, gesturing wildly in the
air. “There is a distinct threat.”
“There is always a distinct threat here, but
you’re still backing down.”
The younger brother furrowed his brows. “I…”
slowly he turned red and admitted, “All right, yes, I
did back down. But this has been done for a purpose.
There is a very real threat on the station and I’m
trying to not induce panic.”
“After the station was boarded and attacked, I
highly doubt the people of this station will be
rattled by any news you break to them. Why doesn’t
the station come out and just tell the truth?” The
elder Giles demanded, standing. “What are you going
to say? That there is a Founder on board? Because if
you are, I have news for you, Randall… that rumor has
been being debated in every shop on this Promenade for
the last week. If you announced that we would all
shrug and tell each other ‘I told you so.’” Anthony
didn’t need any confirmation from his brother to see
the truth, Randy’s shock and concern was written as
plain as day across his face. “So it *is* a Founder?”
“We’re not sure… but the saboteur seems
remarkably … malleable.” Randall replied softly. “I
have put every person I can in trying to find the root
of the problem, and they keep getting bled off into
this martial security.”
“Have you stood up to the Marines?”
The younger man knit his brows. “Have you seen
them? Talked to them? It’s almost impossible to get
anything discussed.”
Anthony shook his head in disbelief. “Randy… you
will walk up and flirt with the most impossible
unreachable women ever to walk this galaxy and you’re
afraid of a Marine?”
“But flirting with women is fun.” The younger
protested.
“Then make arguing with Marines fun, too.” He
paused, putting a hand on his younger brother’s
shoulder. “Randall… do you think these acts are
wrong?”
Slowly the younger man’s face creased into an
expression of deep worry. “Yes, I do. I think some
measures are necessary for station security, but this
has gone too far.”
“Then you had better stand up for what you think,
Randall.” Anthony said in a very fatherly tone.
The younger man brought himself to a teasing
smile. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll be very disappointed in you.” Anthony
replied, evenly.
There was something about that tone that stayed
with Randall Giles as he walked back out onto the
Promenade.
~*~*~*~*~*~
~Thursday~
It was late in the afternoon, and Zel was
helping Mr. Giles clean the animal pens. Not having a
cart nor any collectibles to sell anymore gave Zel an
awful lot of free time, which he decided might be best
spent forging a friendship since it looked like he was
stuck here for awhile.
“What sort of animal is this?” the little hybrid
asked, holding up a small squealing puffball.
Giles poked his head around the corner. “It’s a
guinea pig, an Earth creature.”
Zel perked a brow ridge at this. “Funny… it
doesn’t look like a pig.”
“It’s more of a rodent. The pig just refers to
its eating habits.” Anthony grinned a bit.
The Cardassian grinned a bit at that and secured
the rodent near his chest, petting it until it purred.
“It’s a rather pleasant creature” He murmured,
setting the pig into a holding cage, before going to
clean out the bedding it lived in. “With an rather
unpleasant smell.”
“We all have rather unpleasant smells at times,
Mr. Zel.”
“Very true.”
They cleaned in silence for a few minutes, and
at the sound of the doorchime, Giles broke off to go
serve the customers that had entered. His expression
changed from one of warm welcome to one of cold
confusion. At his door stood two fully armed Marines
and a nurse. “Can I help you folks?” he asked,
sincerely doubting that they were here to look at
pets.
“Everyone here will submit to a mandatory blood
screening.” A tall Andorian marine replied in a harsh
jarring whisper. “Including the animals.”
“Just what I said. You will submit to a
mandatory blood screening, and all of your animals
will also be tested.” The marine replied icily. The
short Bolian nurse stepped forward with an apologetic
look plastered all over his thin features, brandishing
a hypospray case.
“Fine.” Giles replied, displeased, but pulling up
his sleeve anyways to let the Bolian draw blood. The
nurse passed the tube over to the second Marine, a
silent stocky human who inspected it before tucking it
away with a label in a case, satisfied that it was, in
fact, blood.
“Who else is in here?” the Andorian barked, and
very slowly Zel poked his head out from behind the
cages.
“Just me… and the pig…” the little hybrid
replied, holding the furry animal. It started to
chatter its teeth as the contingent neared them.
The Andorian looked down at Zel with a strict,
inflexible gaze. “You will submit to mandatory blood
testing.”
Zel blinked, his eyes going wide. “I will?”
Instinctively he edged away from the nurse. His
apparent refusal was greeting by the Andorian Marine
leveling his rifle at his chest.
“Zel...” Giles said in a careful tone. “Just let
them take the blood.”
The Cardassin flickered a glance from Giles to
the nurse and back, his face clearly reading mistrust,
even terror about the whole prospect. Finally he let
his gaze settle on the rifle and he stopped backing
up. “Ok… I suppose I will.”
As the nurse neared, Zel closed his eyes and
turned away, like a small child does when they first
visit the doctor. His entire body tensed, and didn’t
relax until the blood was drawn and the vial had been
“Alright, now the animal.” The marine replied,
mechanically.
Zel turned towards them and blinked. “You’re
kidding, right?” The rifle leveled at him again. “So
you’re not kidding.” Very reluctantly he handed over
the small animal, which began shrieking. As the trio
went around, taking every animal out of its cage, they
all started to howl, meow, and cry in various tones of
protest. Even Giels couldn’t wait until these three
left his establishment, and he ended up running around
the shop, tryingt o calm all of the animals when they
were finally done.
“This is not right.” The former shopkeeper
murmured, rubbing his arm, watching the doctors and
marines march over to the next shop on the list.
“This promenade feels like a warzone.”
“I am trying to see what I can do.” Anthony
replied in a harsh murmur, holding a mewling kitten.
Zel shook his head a little, setting down his rag
and putting the guinea pig back in her cage. “I’m
going to see what I can do.”
Concern flashed across Anthony Giles’ face.
“What are you planning on doing?”
“I’m going to tail that Peldig Nelo. I swear
he’s caught up in this somehow.” Rohan replied with
conviction.
Giles bit his lip a little. “Don’t get in
trouble…”
“Mr. Giles…” Zel turned as he was heading out the
door, and offered the pet storeowner a kind little
smile. “If I ever find myself not in trouble I’ll
keel over and die from shock. But I promise I’ll be
careful”
“Please do.” Giles murmured to himself after the
Bajoran had left the shop.
~*~*~*~*~*~
NRPG: This was getting extremely long, so I cut it
into parts. I don’t have part 2 finished, but it also
comes before “Purr” and goes from Thursday night to
Friday in this timeline. So if I could plead for
y’all to rescue Drake before jumping to the station
and give me a chance to get the second part out, I
would appreciate it very much.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Jamie LeBlanc
Civilian Zel Rohan
Former Shopkeep
GS2
"Why do we fly? Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must"
~Julian Beck
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