Speak Softly, [Pt 1]

Posted on Sun May 17th, 2020 @ 7:30am by Captain Luka Mahone & Lieutenant JG Cabid & Consul Briya Valriya & Cornelius Warner MS
Edited on on Wed May 20th, 2020 @ 8:21am

2,030 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Canary
Location: Command Center, Conference Room Three
Timeline: MD 11 - 1304 Hrs

Luka had expected the arrival of the Intelligence Team earlier than they appeared. With the speed of the communication he received earlier last week, he would have thought they descended upon the colony like a group of vultures on a freshly fallen corpse.

But the unpredictable delay afforded Luka the time to arrange a 'special luncheon' for the small team, catered of course by the colony's brand new brewery. He made a point of taking Cornelius through the security measures of the conference room they'd be using, expecting that the other would not need it, but Luka felt comforted with the formality. The day prior, Luka spent his time as far away from the science labs as possible, speaking only once to Dr. Bray on the matter of keeping the information they knew to themselves. But rumors ran like wildfire, especially in a large facility like Haumea.

But one could hope.

Luka was sure the Intel team would have wanted to chat; this would be the first time they had made official their interest in the colony, and therefore the first time they would have to go through a number of hoops in order to reach the information they needed. Not even with all their security clearances could they navigate through a new organizational system built by people they had little control over.

This would mean the fastest way would be through him, or at least he would know where to send them. Which meant, at least for the moment, the ball was in his court.

They spent most of the morning with his yeoman, who happily took them on an extremely detailed tour of the Starfleet facilities - but just the Starfleet facilities. With a small team, it was easy for Davna to corral them exactly where and how she wanted them to be corralled, and if they decided to get forceful, she would insist that he was on important business that was not to be interrupted.

But even she could not stall them forever. As soon as Luka strode through the door, Davna was on his comm badge, requesting when he would be ready for them. "...Now is fine. Conference room three is where I'll meet them."

When the news was relayed to the Intel Team, Eleanor Anubel rolled her eyes and seemed to grow even more difficult - if that were possible. She’d been a thorn in the Yeoman’s side all day, though the Orion woman was much too good to show it. This Eleanor woman however, seemed to wear each of her thoughts and emotions on her entire person, not that there was an over abundance of her. Agent Anubel was small (and some would argue petty), but despite her size, took up more than her fair share of space. Not because she was rotund, as she was not, but because she was highly animated and moved in jerky shifts of fingers, hands and elbows that others quickly learned to avoid by simply standing clear. And despite her short stature and soft curves, there was an air of hardness surrounding Anubel. Trailing along in the cold behind Davna all day from one lab to another had done her complexion no favors; the ruddy red of her cheeks stood out severely against the paleness of her face and though she smiled frequently, it brought no mirth to her eyes which shone with something kin to malice.

Discrimination within the Federation no longer existed, at least not as it had during the 21st and 22nd centuries, but Anubel’s was a highly secretive field and where there were secrets, there were those who would use them against her. And she was not above doing the same. She was a severe woman, bent always on gathering the pieces of information that struck her as pertinent and casually discarding all the rest - including the feelings of others. She had not always been such a difficult individual, but it hadn’t snuck up upon her character either. She hadn’t woken up one day to realize that the nature of her field of work had changed her. She’d woken up each day since her earliest years in the Academy determined to do what it took to be taken seriously and to detect when she was not. Facts, lies and other people’s truths. She delved through them all and pieced together the story that she’d promote as her own truth. And that’s how she knew others would do the same, others would hide data and shine spotlights on irrelevant clutter. Which truth was hidden among Haumea Colony and which truth would they try to serve up to her?

All this is to say - Eleanor Anubel came across as a thoroughly unpleasant woman and what’s worse - she seemed to know it. And just didn’t care. There were those in the Federation whose skills at persuasion and personability easily lent themselves towards information gathering and receipt of voluntarily rendered assistance. Anubel was not that sort.

“Finally,” Anubel exclaimed as she peeled the gloves from her hands and crammed them into her pockets. “Take us to Conference Room 3 before the man finds another excuse to put us off.” Anubel managed not to snap her fingers at the Yeoman, but just barely.

Next to the impatient agent was a stern-faced Benzite named Cabid who was clad in the same silver uniform Anubel was. He was silent for the most part, utilizing the other's boisterousness to do most of the annoyed speaking for him. He was here to observe and to detail their findings on the shuttle. As it stood, it seemed like none of their questions had gone answered.

"Time is, of the essence," Cabid chimed in, voice cool and devoid of any annoyance he had felt. "The sooner we can see the Captain, the better."

"Of course." Davna's tone was as sing-song as she could make it, turning heel and leading the pair down the corridors to the Conference room in question with a leisurely pace.

They would eventually arrive at the front door to the conference room, which swished open with the greatest of ease, revealing the Captain standing near the window of the room itself. In the middle of the grand table was a small spread of appetizers and finger foods.

Luka did not give the agents much time to respond, allowing only a moment to pass before dismissing Davna and giving the pair a warm smile. "Good afternoon. I do apologize for the wait, we had some unforeseen civilian matters to attend to. And - " he added, gesturing over to the table. "I hope you've brought your appetites. I've arranged to have the event catered by our newest establishment, the Silver Tongue."

Catering was something Cornelius did well for two reasons. The first was not so sinister, he was good at it. A personable man, he had been the opposite of Anubel in every way as an agent, able to chat to anyone, and get a life story before they knew they were telling it. With that, he enjoyed it, there was a meticulous air to it, and it was fun. The second was, simply put, because he could get people to talk freely around him when they were catered, because in the deep, pre-enlightened part of their minds, they looked at wait staff with an almost disdain, and thought them for some reason less intelligent than another. So, as the guests entered, he flashed one of his signature warm smiles, and indicated to them the table.

"A simple serving to start, I hope you don't mind." With the practiced movements of a dancer, he swung his arm to the side where a few small ice boxes sat. "Can I perhaps enchant you with a selection from my brewery? Political Propaganda is a good beer to pair with a meeting. Light, and easy, a good pilsner." The smile was less fake, his own humour rolled quietly into the matter.

“Why is he here, Captain.” Anubel gave a sidelong look at Cornelius. “We can manage to feed ourselves and you know that’s not why we came. Would you please dismiss the waitstaff so that we may finally speak to you directly? We have waited long enough and this is no time for unauthorized mouths and ears to be present.”

"I authorized him." Luka stated plainly, before his tone picked up. "It makes little sense for us to speak on the general matters without at least some civilian presence. I would have had Director Stone with us if it were not for the meetings he had to attend today. There's already enough unrest with the civilian population to have them think that Starfleet is making secret plans behind their backs. Mr. Warner has run his brewpub for long enough." The Captain gave Cornelius an appreciative look. "I know we can trust him to be discreet. He's certainly heard more scandalous affairs in his line of work." Before he continued, he gave Anubel a serious look. "But we can also discuss the more confidential aspect of these matters after lunch."

Anubel raised her eyebrows in disbelief as she made a few notes on her PADD. “And you felt the colony’s bartender slash caterer was a suitable replacement in Director Stone’s absence? An interesting choice, Captain Luka. Very well, we can discuss the sensitive matters after this additional delay. Am I to serve myself or has that been arranged as well?”

"The appetizer is always help yourself, though, I have a dish of roasted chicken being finalized and moved in as we speak." Stepping aside, Cornelius' eyes met Luka's and in that moment the smile did not meet his eyes, something only the pair could catch, before he turned back to the guests. "Light and simple, I figured."

"I've not simply chosen 'the local bartender'." Wasting no effort in worrying over the conversation as it unfolded, Luka moved to help himself to the finger food appetizers that Cornelius had set out. "It simply happened that I made a visit to The Silver Tongue when it was established on the Colony, and I thought it better than having a member on our civilian Council, to ease tensions." Despite the odd choice, the Captain happened to have given it quite a bit of thought. "The arrival of Starfleet is already politically charged enough. Having, of all organizations, Starfleet Intelligence arrive... well, I can't imagine much of the Council being all that pleased."

From Anubel’s position, Captain Luka didn’t seem to have given this entire situation any thought, or not enough. Bringing in the bartender instead of keeping the civilian Council officially apprised seemed like a Starfleet Intelligence type of move. The type of move Luka intimated he was against. She briefly drummed her fingers on the table then stood to select a few morsels for her plate. “I doubt it makes much difference, Captain. Starfleet Intelligence will most likely take this little mystery of an old derelict shuttle from off your plate and let you get onto more important matters concerning the Colony. No need to divert the CO’s attention with trivial discoveries.”

"The shuttle? Oh I'm not too worried about that." Luka gave a brief smile. "It's already roped off, so we can discuss it after lunch, hm?"

Cabid tilted his head to one side, neutrally observing the scene. It seemed well enough; Anubel looked content doing most of the talking, but Cabid knew when enough was enough. "Did you call it Political Propaganda?" he asked, curiously eyeing the ice boxes. "You don't see much true-brew in our line of work." He cast a sideways glance at Anubel. "We're here for more than a day or two. We have time to sample what the locals have to offer, don't we?"

"Well sir, if you do find yourself without the ball and chain, my establishment is always open to those who would like a drink and good company," replied the brewmaster, his warmth returning in full.

To Be Continued in Pt. 2

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