Wings Of The Wasp
Episode Name: Wings Of The Wasp
Written By: Artemisia
Cast: Artemisia, Chax, Greer Nicodemus, Lopez, Mulwray, Phipps and Snaw Alovar.
Produced By: Starfleet
Directed By: Artemisia
Aired On: Sun Nov 13 18:09:27 2005
Stardate: 55407.8
Time: Thu Nov 10 20:38:10 2005
Stardate: 55400.9
The camera fades in on the rather packed scene of a cargo bay on Station 419-Upsilon. Despite the fact that the annual trade festival is dying down, plenty of goods still make their way through this huge chamber for their due inspection by the local authorities. Tonight, it's Lieutenant JG Ana Maria Lopez's turn to fill in at customs inspection. Panning across crates upon boxes upon crates, the camera finds her working doggedly at the task.
Doggedly, like a dog-- its a dog day. At least Lopez has a few months of experience. Ana hops of the bottom of the catwalk ladder and recovers her PADD from under the back of her jacket's edge. "Okay, that lot's done... forms submitted, signed and sealed... what next?" Intently, she eyes the display.
GAME: Lopez spends a courage point.
GAME: Lopez contests her Personal Equipment/Tricorder vs Moderate and Succeeds.
A pyramid of large crates rests blithely to be inspected next. If it were sentient, it'd yawn in boredom at the long queue. As it is, it waits meekly.
"Incenses?" Lopez reads off the list, and shrugs, muttering such that her combadge translates helpfully something about broken seals and stinky cargo bays. Lopez breaks out her tricorder, records the lot number, and begins her scans. And for a minute, all seems well. Its a nice minute, if short-lived. "What is...?" She says at the reading, and glances back at the lot number. "You're not all stinky combustibles. So what have we here, hmm?"
The crates decide not to answer. Indeed, they look so innocent, there among all the other cargo.
"Congratulations," Lopez informs the non-responsive pyramid. One might be led to wonder how much of her tenure as Customs Inspector she spent talking to herself in cargo bays. "-you're about to graduate to a higher tier search."
One might also be told to mind their own business. Lopez is working, here.
The pyramid of crates doesn't move. It's probably frantically trying to think up an alibi.
GAME: Lopez contests her Personal Equipment/Tricorder+A vs Routine and Succeeds.
Lopez levels her tricorder once again, and as the results come back, she squats down to sit on her heels. "Tabra gems. Tch tch tch," Ana clucks with an upraised slim eyebrow. Adding the information to her report, she softly sing-songs under her breath, "I'm gonna te-ell."
. o O Lopez thinks, "Somebody is in big trouble. Killing pre-sentients for a bauble is highly, highly illegal. Now, who do these boxes belong to..."
Lopez taps her com badge. "Lieutenant JG Lopez to Lieutenant JG Mulwray."
Over Lopez's com badge, someone sounds as if he's got something in his mouth. "Mulwray."
Into her com badge, Lopez says, "Lieutenant, we have a Security situation in Cargo Bay 1."
Over Lopez's com badge, Mulwray says, "On my wa."
Lopez's com badge clicks as Mulwray drops off channel. The channel closes.
. o O Lopez thinks, "Chewy forty times and swallow on the way."
Lopez's com badge chirrups. "Lieutenant JG Mulwray to Lieutenant JG Lopez."
Lopez taps her com badge. "Lieutenant JG Lopez here."
Over Lopez's com badge, Mulwray says, "We're on the way, Lieutenant - talk to me."
Into her com badge, Lopez says, "Are you familiar with Tabra gems? I've got a pyramid of crates here, supposedly filled with incense. Only, thats not all thats in them. Someone's been killing presentients to harvest these, and now they're transporting them."
Over Lopez's com badge, Mulwray says, "Can't say that I am, Lieutenant, but computer'll fix that. Right, Phipps and I are on the way down - seal the bay off, nobody gets in or out but Security."
Into her com badge, Lopez says, "Thats an affirmative, sir."
Into her com badge, Lopez says, "Lopez out."
Over Lopez's com badge, Mulwray says, "Good man. We'll be down in a minute. Out."
Lopez's com badge clicks as Mulwray drops off channel. The channel closes.
Lopez says, "Computer, seal the cargo bay, access granted to security personnel?"
The computer buzzes, and its melodious voice chimes, "Confirmed. Cargo Bay One sealed. Authorized access, security personnel only."
Lopez says, "Good. Though if they don't show up, its going to be a LONG shift."
The computer buzzes, and its melodious voice chimes, "Lieutenant JG Ana Maria Lopez, request for overtime shift submitted."
Mulwray steps through the doors from the corridor, and the doors loudly clang shut behind him.
Mulwray has arrived.
Lopez groans, and glares at the boxes. "This is your fault, you know," she accuses.
. o O Phipps feels a flush of irritation that quickly diminishes, replaced with first embarrasment, and then a tiny pang of guilt. Then calmness slides into place, clearly drawn there from within, almost like a shield or a screen.
. o O Phipps thinks, "Presentients?"
Phipps steps through the doors from the corridor, and the doors loudly clang shut behind him.
Phipps has arrived.
The cargo bay is heavily packed with crates and packages, leaving just enough room to produce corridors between towering walls of themselves. The trade festival has, at least, been busy. In fact, one large crate labeled 'Fruit' in large block letters teeters on the top of a stack that looms right by the door.
"Sorry to hear that." Lieutenant Mulwray appears, a mobile mushroom cloud of meat - the big man, with his freshly-broken, bandaged nose, looks like some giant plucked eagle with its beak dipped in pomagranate juice. He strides purposefully through the bay doors and toward the lady in uniform, lips set in a frown. "Talk to me, Lieutenant. Tell me all about what we got here."
Phipps follows on behind Mulwray, hands slipping behind his back. He remains silent, taking up a position just a little behind and to one side of his superior.
Lopez crouches by a pyramid of boxes, as the crate of fruit teeters ominously. "Yoopterian pre-sentient species, murdered for profit. Lookin' good, there, Lieutenant..." She also gives a nod of greeting to Phipps as she gets up. "The contents were listed as rare incenses. And to be sure, at least some of whats in there is. But the rest is extremely illegal in the Federation. And once I track down the transport information, you're probably going to have some guests in the brig."
. o O Phipps feels a wave of disgust.
A wet grunt and Jim shakes his head, turning to regard the pyramid. "Comes with the territory," the big man says blackly. "You've scanned all this? No traps, markers, anything like that? Are you sure they're actually real stones?"
Phipps continues his impression of a silent, vigilantly observant statue. His nose is wrinkled, however, the tip drawn up with nostrils slightly flared.
. o O Phipps feels the former disgust slowly harden into something closer to anger, but not quite there. And a pang of curiousity.
Lopez says, "Oh, they're real, sir. But I haven't scanned for the rest. That comes next, if you would both care to assist me?"
Jim looks sidelong at Phipps. "Go ahead, Lieutenant," he says to the man. "You're the ordinance specialist." Mind you, he's reaching for his own tricorder as well - unfolds it, wrinkling up his nose, and turns it on.
Phipps reaches for his tricorder, unfolding it slowly. "The gems. What are they used for, that is, sir? - I'm not familiar with the name, I'm afraid."
GAME: Mulwray contests his Personal Equipment vs Moderate and Succeeds.
GAME: Lopez contests her Computer vs Routine and Succeeds.
GAME: Mulwray contests his Computer/Research vs Routine and Succeeds.
Lopez holds aloft her PADD theatrically, and left her finger do a jaunty little jig across its face. "Tebra Gems," she reads for Ensign Phipps, "1) Commercial term used for the _kidney stones_ of the primary species of Yoopteria." She gives that one a moment to sink in, looking over the edge of the device. "2) A Bright, clear red gem highly prized in jewelry in neutral systems. Illegal in the Federation, and also in the Klingon Empire."
. o O Phipps thinks, "How utterly disgusting. Wearing kidney stones. From slaughtered presentients. - Somehow the brig seems too pleasant for whoever was running these through."
"Well isnt' that just a dandy thing," Jim mutters to himself. "Right. You got anything, there, Phipps?" Not that he hasnt' scanned, but hey. "How'd you come across these, Lieutenant?" He gestures toward the pyramid with his tricorder. "Physical search, passing scan? Were these hidden?"
GAME: Phipps spends a courage point.
GAME: Phipps contests his Personal Equipment/Tricorder+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.
Phipps simply nods at the information (though his nose is still curiously wrinkled), and proceeds to turn in a slow arc, holding the tricorder away from his body. His tricorder, notably, is in silent mode. It doesn't beep. "In the boxes of incense," he announces. "There are six more boxes of the gems buried in the incense, sirs," he adds.
Lopez offers, "Plain sight, Lieutenant Mulwray. These boxes were next on the list, and when I scanned them..." Lopez gestures openly. "Usually, its not so easy to locate illegal cargo. Its like the didn't bother, or were counting on us not checking."
. o O Lopez suddenly is feeling very weary of those boxes...
GAME: Lopez contests her Personal Equipment/Tricorder+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.
"...mmm. See, that bothers me." Jim looks sidelong at Phipps, frowning. "It's a ridiculous man who doesn't bother hiding what he's stolen - and these gems are valuable. It'd be like running around with diamonds in your shorts." A beat. "You said you were runnin a trace on this, yeah? You got any idea when this got here?" That said, he sets about scanning again.
Phipps muses aloud, "Perhaps they wished us to find this so we wouldn't find more important illegal cargo." He prods his finger at his tricorder for a moment. Then? Again the sweeping motion.
GAME: Mulwray contests his Personal Equipment vs Moderate and Marginally Succeeds.
GAME: Phipps spends a courage point.
GAME: Phipps contests his Personal Equipment/Tricorder+A vs Moderate and Marginally Succeeds.
Lopez says, "Doesn't look like they bothered to trap it either... just a moment. I'm working on getting the manifest... The invoice says that they were dropped two days ago by Greer Nicodemus on the Starstruck. She's also supposed to pick them up, pending clearance from us."
. o O Lopez thinks, "Please tell me I don't have to go back through all this..."
Now that makes Jim pucker - which makes his nose hurt, which makes him irritable. "This here's a setup, I'm thinking," he mutters with a shake of his head. "Maybe. Lieutenant, go ahead and get the contraband separated from the cargo, send a sample down to be examined; maybe we can pick up some stray genetic material from the stones that doesn't belong to their origin. Phipps, see if you can get anything off those containers." Jim turns toward Lopez again. "You have any experience with this ship? This captain...Nicodemus, you said her name was?"
Phipps grunts at the tricorder. While he pokes at the buttons just a little bit more, he says quietly, "If I'm not missing it, and I don't think I am, there aren't any weapons hidden away in here, at least, sir." A pause. "I'll do that scan in just a moment if you have no objections, sir - I have a crazy hunch I want to check on first. If that's okay?" He doesn't wait, though. The tricorder is swept around again.
. o O Phipps thinks, "Frank Thomas Eugene Phipps, you're strange. But I guess it's worth a try."
Lopez confesses that she does not, as Phipps continues to work.
GAME: Phipps contests his Personal Equipment/Tricorder vs Routine and Marginally Fails.
"Says here the Starstruck is planning to be out of here tomorrow, so clearly they were not anticipating any trouble with customs..." Lopez murmurs.
GAME: Mulwray contests his Computer vs Moderate and Marginally Fails.
Now in the meantime, Jim's put away his tricorder and busted out with his PADD - muttering over it, wrinkling his nose at the device as data scrolls across the screen. "...well, that's a pretty how-dee-doo," the big man rumbles to himself, then leans over to mutter something that sounds suspiciously like 'security override'.
"Could've been planted to distract from another ship's cargo," Phipps suggests quietly, post-grunt at his tricorder. "My crazy idea was that maybe these were a cover for a more, uh, surviving cargo. I'm not picking up any other lifesigns, though." And now the tricorder is pointed at the offending cargo units.
GAME: Phipps spends a courage point.
GAME: Phipps contests his Personal Equipment/Tricorder+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.
Lopez says, "Regardless of what else is here, aren't we obligated to put the discovery on report, and bring Greer Nicodemus in for questioning? Meanwhile, we can be checking her travel logs, looking for anything in her background-- assuming this is her true identity."
"Oh-kay." Jim wrinkles up his nose at the data picking up on the PADD, lips pursed as he reads over the device. "Greer Nicodemus, born Farmington, New Mexico, Earth. Looks like she's a career petty criminal - started small and worked her way up to a little smuggling. Could be this is her ticket to the big time and she just screwed it up, or could be she's getting bagged by a rival. Or she could just be unlucky." He wrinkles up his swollen nose, winces, and nods. "Right. Where's she staying currently, Lieutenant? On station?"
Phipps mmms thoughtfully, and actually even experiences a brief, minor smile. "Orion DNA," he announces. "Both on and in the boxes." Short and to the point. He glances over at Mulwray.
. o O Phipps thinks, "So if there -are- no Orions amongst her crew, it's surely a plant."
. o O Phipps feels a short, brief burst of emotion. Firstly, a complete -lack- of surprise. Triumph - brief and then subdued quickly by discipline. Then simple, contained curiousity.
"Ahhhhhh." Jim grins, now, nodding his head. "That's what I thought - good work, Ensign. Can you pull a pattern?"
. o O Revere deflates.
Lopez glances towards Phipps and Mulwray, saying, "And Greer Nicodemus's barge is a crew-of-one sort of vessel. So, set-up, or just really, REALLY poor judgment?"
. o O Lopez thinks, "Jewelry does NOT seem like an Orion smuggling MO."
GAME: Phipps spends a courage point.
GAME: Phipps contests his Computer+A vs Challenging and Marginally Succeeds.
GAME: Lopez contests her Computer vs Routine and Succeeds.
Jim shrugs at that - eyeballing Phipps and his scannity-scanning while he makes with the conversation. "Maybe. Could be she was approached, this was just too big an opportunity to pass up. Or she could be yet another criminal mastermind - or a catspaw of one, they show up here on station all the time. You'd think it were some kind of holonovel sometimes, you know?"
Lopez continues to poke around on her PADD regarding the manifest and flight history. "We've got authors around, I hear... I'm getting here, that she's a widely traveled individual, this Nicodemus character. All over the place. But the last known stop is the Rigel System."
Phipps brings up his PADD alongside his tricorder. Pressing of buttons ensues. "Mmmmrrr," he mutters. That's effort, that is. "Snaw Alovar, taken in for questioning on a matter on Tellar. It's a fifty three percent match. And he was released on lack of evidence."
GAME: Phipps contests his Intellect/Perception vs Moderate and Fails.
GAME: Mulwray contests his Intellect/Perception vs Moderate and Succeeds.
GAME: Phipps has the merit of Eidetic Memory at 3.
GAME: Phipps contests his Intellect/Perception vs Moderate and Marginally Succeeds.
"Hey. Alovar." Jim looks sidelong at Phipps now. "Didn't we have an Alovar here on station not long ago? Got off from lack of evidence, right?"
Lopez says, "I'm guessing you just found, possibly, some? Fifty-three percent though... got anything else?"
Phipps nods, slowly. "Chax Alovar, I think it was, sir," he agrees and/or offers, thoughtfully.
A nod. "That's it." Lopez gets a nod, too. "Right, maybe we have more evidence indeed. Lopez? He still on station?"
. o O Phipps thinks, "Hrm. Now what was the report actually about?"
Lopez eyes the ceiling, and first of all, makes a locate prompt to the ever-listening computer. At least this time she might not get stuck with an extra shift. "Computer," she says, "Locate Chax."
The computer buzzes, and chimes in its melodious voice, "Chax Alovar is located at Quarters 1506."
It's Jim's turn - he swiftly taps his commbadge, hailing the non-com in charge of duty shift in Security tonight. "Simmons," he begins, "Get a detail down to Deck 15 to secure Chax Alovar into custody...but not on my signal just yet. I'm going to ask him nicely to join us, and then you serve as escort. He flees, you send him down to the office the hard way. Got it/"
Phipps peers thoughtfully at the offending boxes, but remains quiet. The PADD is lowered again, too.
Over Mulwray's combadge, Simmons says, "Aye, sir."
Lopez says, "And Nicodemus, floating around in orbit of the station, Lieutenant? Ensign Phipps?"
"Thank you." Mulwray taps off his badge, frowns a moment, and nods to the other end of the bay. "Let's head over here, all right? Just in case." A further pause. "Right, we'll ask nicely - you know, with the guns pointed to help persuasion. She bolts and we'll tractor her in." Another tap of the badge and he's informing Operations of his plans, all the while crossing to the other end of the bay and eyeing the boxes suspiciously.
@emit "Aye, Lieutenant," is echoed in a cool feminine voice over Mulwray's badge. "We've got the Starstruck locked. Waiting for your signal."
The boxes sit silently, unmoving.
"Sir, might be an idea to put some sort of effort in place to prevent Alovar beaming away to a -different- ship. Just in case it is a setup?" Phipps nods, once. Thoughtful furrowing of his brow, still.
. o O Phipps thinks, "Can't be anyone dumb enough to do this with that kinda ship as support. Either she has extra help on hand, or this is a little gift from some friends of hers. Can't be anything else. Surely?"
"Just getting to that, actually," says Jim with a wink. "Operations, please also establish a transporter inhibitor field around quarters 1506 and by extension Mr. Alovar when we extract him."
"Done, Lieutenant," responds Ops after a moment.
Lopez trails along from the boxes to the spot just... very very close to the place under the fruit crate. "I assume you want this Cargo sealed for the time being?" she asks the Security personnel.
"I want you to stand away from those crates, Lieutenant," Jim states firmly as he reaches for his badge a fourth time. "Just humor me." And then he makes the hail.
Mulwray taps his com badge. "Lieutenant JG Mulwray to Crew Quarters 1506."
Over Mulwray's com badge, someone answers after a long moment. "Oh, there it is. I think. Yes? Hello?"
Into his com badge, Mulwray speaks - though it's more of a hard, officious rumble. "Mr. Alovar. Lieutenant James Mulwray here, Security."
Over Mulwray's com badge, Chax responds in a friendly, surprised tone. "Yes, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?"
Phipps, for some reason, winces.
. o O Phipps thinks, "Well, I'd have gone a little bit more subtle, maybe."
Mulwray is reaching for his PADD now, tapping a message in to Operations: 'Secure Nicodemus and her ship. Ask first, then tractor if she does not submit.'
Into his com badge, Mulwray says, "Forgive me for interrupting, sir, but I'm in the middle of an investigation and you might be able to help me - I assume you won't mind answering a few questions?"
Lopez glances at Phipps, and moves.
. o O Lopez thinks, "Someone still has to get the rest of this cleared. How much you wanna bet I get to stay?"
Over Mulwray's com badge, Chax laughs wryly. "Another investigation. Sure, Lieutenant, I'm more thanhappy to help."
. o O Phipps feels faintly guilty.
Into his com badge, Mulwray says, "Very well. You'll be speaking with Ensign Phipps - there is a detachment outside your quarters, waiting to escort you down. I appreciate your cooperation, sir."
Over Mulwray's com badge, Chax takes on a startled note. "Um. Okay... "
Into his com badge, Mulwray says, "Once again, we appreciate your cooperation. You may join the detachment now, and Ensign Phipps will meet you at Station Security."
Lopez continues to watch on standby mode.
Over Mulwray's com badge, Chax says, "Um. Sure." He sounds rather confused. "I'll be right down... I guess..."
Phipps brings his PADD up, the tricorder going down the other way to be restowed, giving a small nod of acknowledgement in Mulwrays direction. Then his attention shifts to the PADD. Calmly, he manipulates the device with one hand holding it carefully. Silently, he mouths to Mulwray: "Now?"
Mulwray taps his com badge and terminates transmission.
Phipps nods to Lopez, with a small smile, as he lowers his PADD. "If you could, please, sir," he answers he last question, quietly, already making his way - not too rapidly, thus leaving time for a response - towards the exit to the cargo bay.
Lopez blows air through her lips, and moves to the exit, and just outside. "Good luck, Sirs," she says.
Phipps arrives from the mall, the office's transparent aluminum doors sliding silently closed behind him.
Phipps has arrived.
Chax, looking rather befuddled, is settled back against a wall of the security station, surrouned by a wall of goons glaring at him.
Phipps strides in, looking particuarly calm. Albeit the man has a faint air of tiredness about him - but then, it -is- late. Even as he approaches - "Ahhh, Mr. Alovar?" It's not so much a question as a greeting. Very polite one, too. "I apologize for any inconveniance. I'm -quite- certain this can all be cleared up swiftly. - Thank you." The last is addressed to the 'goons', but Frank flicks two fingers outwards on one hand. Two to remain.
. o O Phipps thinks, "Caution before broken fingers."
. o O Phipps feels a faint sort of amusement, but also a dim, vague sympathy. Weak. But there. Other than that is that ol' familiar shield over top - of cool, calm discipline.
Chax looks over toward Phipps, and nods. "I do hope so. I was in the middle of a rather, um, important projct when Lieutenant Mulwray called." He offers a friendly grin, sticking out his hand. "Chax Alovar. Nice to meet you."
The NCOs disperse, going back to their duties.
Phipps offers a brisk nod - a moment of hesitation - and then sticks out his own hand in acceptance. "A pleasure, sir, I'm sure," he answers, still with utmost politeness. But the pleasantries are cut off sharp by his going on with, "Now, then, since this is official Security business, I'm afraid I'm going to have to record our conversation. Of course, if I don't record it, I'll probably remember word-for-word regardless, since I have an excellent memory - so there's really no difference if it's on or off. But it -does- need to be on, as a protection of your rights." He holds up the PADD.
Chax gives Phipps' hand with a firm shake, his grin turning wry. "Oh, I'm well aware of Security measures, Ensign. So. What can I do for you?"
Phipps' handshake is also firm, but quickly withdrawn. That same hand prods the appropiate part of the PADD to begin recording. "I'm currently in Station Security with one Mr Alovar, first name Chax; interviewing officer Ensign Frank Phipps, interview under orders of Lieutenant Jim Mulwray." A pause, and a small smile. "Firstly, sir," positively directed at Chax, "I need to confirm your name and a few minor details. You are indeed Alovar Chax, correct?" He is thoroughly polite, still.
Chax blinks and nods. "Correct." He does, really, look rather mystified at all this.
Phipps smiles, in a manner at least intended to be reassuring. Though it's not a -big- smile. Just a little one. "And you've been aboard Station 419-Upsilon for...?"
Chax tilts his head, thinking for a moment. "A few weeks. We got here a few days ahead of the festival."
Phipps nods, slowly, both smile and pleasant politeness thoroughly in place. "Are you travelling with friends? Family, perhaps?"
Chax blinks, his eyes narrowing. "Well, yes, in a manner of speaking." He clears his throat. "It's a family business."
Phipps nods slowly, again. "I see. - And may I have the names of those you're travelling with, please? - Thank you." Mmhmm. Absolutely polite.
Chax pauses a moment, Then he starts to lift off names of various members of the family consortium, most of them ending in Alovar. Includig 'Snaw Alovar'.
Phipps nods again, his smile still that little one. Tone increasingly friendly. "And the nature of the family business, sir?"
. o O Phipps thinks, "Mmm. Just a little bit closer, fishyfishy."
"Oh, we're a trading consortium," Chax answers affably. "Came for the festival. I'll be sorry to leave when it's over, really."
Phipps hikes up both eyebrows, curiously. "Oh? - And do you know many of the other traders here currently?"
Chax shrugs. "Many? Some, sure. It's the nature of the business. You run into each other now and then."
. o O Chax thinks, "What the hell is this all about?"
Phipps nods, slowly. "I should imagine so. - Is, then, the name 'Greer Nicodemus' familiar?"
Chax blinks. "Greer? Is she here? I haven't run into her. Of course, I've been kind of busy." He eyes Phipps for a moment. "What's she done now?"
Phipps shrugs somewhat. "If I allow for the presumption that she -may- have done something, whether she actually did or not would be the province of due process to decide. - Your consortium has had prior dealings with her?"
Chax folds his arms across his chest. "Yeah, she does some transport work for us sometimes."
Phipps nods, still smiling in a friendly, relaxed manner. But his head does tilt slightly to one side, curiously. "Ah. Who in the consortium would handle the details in such a case? - To clarify: I mean when she has done transport work for you in the past."
. o O Phipps thinks, "S'pose it's possible this could be the wrong way round in my head. But best not to ponder it too much - that way madness lays. Reverse reverse reverse double-double crosses are just unutterably rare."
. o O Phipps feels a combination of amusement, curiousity, and calm.
Chax mmms, "It depends, really. See, there's different people in charge of different branches. One time it might be one person hiring her, another time it'll be somebody else. Which sounds confusing," he realizes. "Sorry about that."
Phipps nods, slowly. "Would she have any cause, that you are aware of, to bear a grudge against your person or one of your fellow family members, or your consortium as a whole?"
Chax gives him a surprised look. "Not that I'm aware of, no. Hell, we've bailed her butt out of trouble a few times. Greer isn't the brightest female around, but she's not foolish enough to throw away our patronage."
Phipps hmms thoughtfully, giving a slight nod at that. He glances down at his PADD. Up comes his gaze again: "Do you know anything about Tebra Gems?" It's a question laden with curiousity, as opposed to accusation.
Chax's nose wrinkles. "Unfortunately. Why anybody would want to wear a jewel you have to kill something for is beyond me." His dark eyebrows rise abruptly as a notion occurs to him. "Oh, please tell me Greer didn't get caught with Tabra gems around here." The Orion doesn't seem particularly surprised at the notion, granted.
. o O Phipps thinks, "Mmm. Should've waited before. Eh."
"I'm afraid that's a question I can't answer, sir." Phipps' smile is faint, and there's a subtle indication with one hand towards his collar, indicating rank. "And - 'caught'? I wouldn't like to read into that too much, but do you intend to imply that she may have transported such items in the past, but simply hasn't been caught? - Please answer truthfully, sir. If she were in some trouble, conflicting lies might hinder rather than support her case. - I do not say she -is- in any kind of trouble, however, as I have no idea myself whether that's the case."
. o O Phipps thinks, "Well, that's true. Might not have been her cargo."
Chax frowns a bit. "Just because I'm Orion doesn't mean I'm a habitual liar, thanks." He sounds a trifle annoyed, yse. "Actually, she /has/ been caught at it before."
Phipps lets both eyebrows arch upwards, for a moment, appearing faintly surprised - the smile almost vanishes, but not quite. A small shake of his head. "Actually, sir, for utmost clarity, I didn't suspect you might lie because of your species, but because of your past associations with the person in question. I apologize for any misinterpretation." He pauses. "Specifically caught with Tabra gems, or at smuggling in general?"
Chax gestures slightly. "In general." He goes on for a bit of clarification himself. "I know her. We're not friends. She has a nasty streak I don't like."
. o O Phipps thinks, "I think there's only one Orion I'd consider a liar by default. And if he were here - well - forget that."
. o O Phipps feels a faint pang of hurt. It dissipates rapidly, and is coupled with surprise, which lessens slightly more slowly. Then there's a faint trace of amusement, which lingers longest of all, along with a faint sort of regret. Overlaying all, still, is calm.
Phipps ahs, quietly. "So then, considering what you know of her personality, do you feel it likely that there would be those who would seek to do harm against her?"
. o O Phipps thinks, "And perhaps by association, you. Hm."
Chax says wryly, "Oh, I'm sure she's made any number of enemies over the years."
Phipps tilts his head. "And might some or one be mutual enemies? - With you, a member of your family, or your trading consortium, that is."
Chax lets out a breath, pondering that one for a minute. "I suppose it's possible," he admits. "Thing is, it's not like we keep track of her. I have no idea who she might've gotten mad at her."
Phipps nods, slowly. "Thank you very much for your patience, sir. You've been most helpful. I do, however, have one question. I would like to make it plain that I am not making any accusations, nor do I intend to insinuate any; however, I believe this will be my final question..." He draws a breath, giving an attempt at a small, reassuring smile. "Would yourself, or any other -direct- blood relation, recently have had cause to have spent time in the -Starstruck-'s cargo hold?"
. o O Phipps thinks, "Looks fairly obvious if he says yes. Maybe."
Chax's eyebrows lift in puzzlement. "Well, I haven't, no. We ran into her a couple weeks before the festival. I know Snaw- my brother- had dinner with her on the Starstruck then. Dunno if he went into the hold though."
Phipps nods, slowly. "Okay." A small grin. "I said final question, I know," he even gives a small laugh, "but I really ought to ask this one as well. Could you please make yourself available for further questioning if the need should arise, over subspace if required?"
Chax shrugs and nods. "Sure, I suppose. We are due to leave the station tomorrow though." He pauses, then says, faintly amused, "I was gonna ask what all this is about, but why do I have the feeling you're not going to tell me?"
Phipps nods at the first coupling of sentences, and grins faintly at the second. Firstly, though - "I'm afraid not, sir. Thank you again for your cooperation. - Interview concluded here," he announces to the PADD. A finger pokes the device, ending the recording. "There. - Now, the less rudely official version." The grin widens a bit. "Basically, I don't know if I'm suppose to tell you or not." A slightly sheepish shrug. "So effectively I can't. Sorry. Seems a bit rude, to be honest, after you've been so helpful and all - but orders are orders. Even when they haven't been issued yet." The grin remains, but weakens somewhat.
Chax shakes his head. "Hardly your fault, I'm sure. Can I get back to work then?"
Phipps nods, slowly, already tapping at his PADD. "Certainly. - And again - thank you for your cooperation." He looks up and smiles, nodding to the two remaining noncoms. "Thanks to you two, too," he adds, with a quick, easy grin.
Chax nods once, albeit amiably. "No problem." He gives a bit of a wave and heads back out, casting the guards a sideways look as he goes.
Chax heads out of the station security office, the transparent aluminum doors sliding open at his approach.
Chax has left.
Lieutenant Mulwray stands by the dispatch desk himself, towering over the Ensign with an expression that is growing steadily from the tart into the outright stony. "Nothing is ever wasted, Ensign," the big man rumbles, the line of his lips setting into a frown. "We can only try - even we fail, we have learned something. We push ourselves until we make ourselves greater, and this makes us mighty. That you aim to step beyond your station makes /you/ mighty. You understand?"
Phipps perks an eyebrow slightly. "Yessir," he answers, rather flatly. "Understood."
. o O Phipps thinks, "I do believe I was saying that just a little while ago. Irrelevant, however."
. o O Phipps feels faintly irritated.
"I know that might sound dramatic, but...it's still truth." Mulwray turns to the replicator entirely, murmuring to the machine his order for the evening. A large mug of something steaming and pungent swirls into existence.
The doors to the security station slide open, and a woman stalks in. Human, probably in her forties, short, skinny, and with a sharply-angled face, she's dressed in old denim trousers, a stained shirt, and a worn leather vest over that. And displeasured irritation is written all over her face.
Phipps cuts off a slight rolling of his eyes at Mulwray's back in order to greet the new arrival with a curious peer. "Ahhh," he breathes out. "Sir?" To Mulwray's back. "I believe Miss - Mrs? Ms? Greer Nicodemus is here to see you." He nods, with a polite smile, to the lady in question.
. o O Phipps thinks, "All very true but - ahhh. Greer Nicodemus. Was it Miss, Mrs, or Ms, though? And what does Ms mean anyway? I'll have to look that up. Someday. Eventually. Same as the platypus."
There's something about the sea change that the arrival of a malcontent to bring around; still bent over his mug of foul-smelling amber and his back to the door, Lieutenant Mulwray sounds as if he knew it before Phipps spoke. "/Captain/ Nicodemus, Ensign," he corrects as he takes the mug by its handle. "Can I get you something to drink, Captain?"
Greer Nicodemus plants herself in front of the desk, and her fists on her hips. "You can tell me why you've got my ship in a bloody tractor, mister." Her gaze flicks to Phipps, leaves dismissively to return to Mulwray. Her nose wrinkles. "What is that godawful stuff you're drinking?"
. o O Greer Nicodemus is nervous. "They couldn't have found them. No way."
Phipps smiles politely. That's... pretty much his lot, about now.
. o O Phipps thinks, "Gosh, what a charming lady."
"Fish juice. Cardassian - they drink it in the morning, you know. Hot." Mulwray turns toward the two of them with the mug steaming away. "Smells awful but it's got a great texture to it, like drinking salmon caviar. Wakes you right up." He takes a sip, looking over the woman with his dark eyes glittering faintly beneath his brows. "Sure I can't tempt you? Better than stock protein."
"I'll pass, thanks," she says shortly. One booted foot starts to tap. Or twitch. It could be either.
The Lieutenant shrugs a bit, takes another sip of his pungent beverage. "Mmm. Well. This, Captain, is Ensign Phipps. He and I were wondering, actually - have you been around Yoopteria of late? Say...within the past cargo cycle?"
Greer Nicodemus glances toward Phipps, more appraisingly this time. "Ensign." Her gaze turns reluctantly back to Mulwray, then she smirks. "No. I haven't. The planet's under a no-approach indictment."
. o O Greer Nicodemus thinks, "Oh hell. They found 'em."
Phipps smiles the smile of he-who-has-one-pip. The polite smile. "Ma'am," he offers, in return. Then his PADD becomes deeply intriguing. He pokes it with a finger.
"That's right. Aware of your regulations, Captain, as any Captain worth their credit would." He takes another sip whilst Phipps plays pokey with the PADD, nodding to the dispatch desk. "Have a seat, Captain." He even crosses to pull the single chair around for her to do so. Polite man.
. o O Phipps thinks, "Yes, this is still a PADD. - And Alovar was right. She's -charming-. Very curious. Still - quiet."
Greer Nicodemus's lips purse as she considers the offer. A glance toward the doors, then she moves reluctantly to sit. "You still haven't answered my question, Lieutenant...?"
Phipps steps back and off to the side, towards the armoury door. Ensign-at-wall. The PADD goes back to it's resting place at-hip. He's utterly silent. Of course, moving produced noise. But his lips? Nope. Nothing. Nada.
Jim sets his cup down on the desk, just shy of the seat woman's comfort zone - the scent drifts toward her, pungent and discomforting. "I'm curious, then. Where might you have gotten your last cargo load? Rigel system, wasn't it? Who did you contract from?"
. o O Greer Nicodemus thinks, "Oh shoot. Shouldn't have sat. Could have gotten out on Snaw's ship. Not that I want to leave Starstruck behind, but..."
Greer Nicodemus's eyes narrow, her arms tightly folded across her chest. "Rigel, yes," she says slowly. "It was a bunch of folks. Traders here for the festival."
"Alot of trading families are here," Phipps observes, in a rather disconnected-from-conversation manner. Just saying it.
"Can you...provide me with names, Captain?" Jim perches on the other side, and now Greer's between a rock and a smelly place. Jim...you know. Not being the smelly. Not until that spicy lunch he had has time to ferment anyway. "Not all of them, mind you - just the clients for whom you moved that fruit and incense."
Greer Nicodemus's gaze jerks skittishly toward Phipps, and she shifts uneasily in the chair. "I'd have to check my manifests."
GAME: Phipps contests his Intellect/Perception vs Moderate and Succeeds.
GAME: Mulwray contests his Intellect/Perception vs Moderate and Fails.
Phipps peers at Nicodemus curiously, an eyebrow lifting slightly. Head tilts towards her, then he glances towards the door - just a brief flicker of gaze. He glances at Mulwray - then the door - then Nicodemus. A slight nod.
. o O Phipps thinks, "Look, Lieutenant. The door. She's bracing to move."
GAME: Mulwray spends a courage point.
GAME: Mulwray contests his Intimidation+A vs Routine and Succeeds.
It's like blood in the water, you know. And while Jim hasn't yet found anything to sieze upon directly ther trader's glance to Phipps gives him something to work from. "He's right, you know," says the big Lieutenant, leaning a bit now over the woman - looming, as it were. "Lots of trading families. Curious then to find that among your legal wares we find...a whole passel of of contraband." His voice twists grimly, his smile melting away to show stone beneath and deepening into a threatening /basso profundo/. "Wouldn't you agree?"
Greer Nicodemus jerks in her seat, paling, and leaps up, knocking the chair over in her frantic dash for the exit.
Phipps might have run after her. Dived, leaped, reached for his phaser - the options are quite numerous. However, this is Frank Phipps. Instead, without moving a muscle, he calls out, "Computer, lock Security Office exit."
. o O Phipps thinks, "Lazy yet effective. I like."
. o O Phipps feels amused, for the most part.
But Jim's phaser /is/ in his hand - trained on the woman, his expression still set in that horrible, gargoyle's frown. "Captain, you don't seem a stupid woman so I'm going to assume that you won't do the stupid thing." He reaches down to take up the chair and set it to rights. "Sit down. Let's have us a conversation."
Mulwray reveals his Type I Phaser.
Mulwray wields his Type I Phaser.
Greer Nicodemus slams into the locked doors, and smacks her palms against them in frustration. She whirls, pressing back against the doors, to glare at the pair. After several seconds, her chin lifts and, her expression bitter, she moves forward to plunk herself sulkily into the chair, folding her arms again. She refuses to look at either of them, staring at a spot on the front of the desk.
Phipps is still right where he was before. Leanin' against the wall, slightly. Polite smile intact, even. "Silence opens no doors," he observes, thoughtfully.
. o O Phipps thinks, "That expression looks somehow familiar."
"Ensign Phipps is right," The phaser goes back in his belt, and the Lieutenant takes a step back from the dispatch desk - looming from a distance, like Radamanthus meting judgement over the damned. "Silence opens no doors - so allow me to apply some grease to it. You currently are facing charges of transporting not only contraband, Captain, but by accessory in transporting that contraband are considered accessory to the murders and unlawful dissections of a protected subsentient species. You're not looking at a small stint in lockup here. You're looking at the..." He pauses to pick a bit of dust from his sleeve. "...long walk."
Greer Nicodemus lifts her gaze to glare at Phipps, and hisses a single word that conveys her opinion that the Ensign's parents were unmarried at the time of his birth. Reluctantly, she looks back at Mulwray. "Oh, now there's a familiar phrase. Fine, then. Let's deal."
. o O Greer Nicodemus thinks, "Sorry, Snaw, but I don't think you can get me out of this one, and it's /my/ skin."
Phipps just smiles.
. o O Phipps thinks, "If only that were remotely insulting where I was raised. Oh well."
"I imagine it /is/ familiar, having read your record." The Lieutenant moves to turn his gaze directly on Nicodemus now, his brows knit, black eyes sparkling with a sort of grim anticipation. He'd have made a good horse trader if he weren't wearing that uniform. "Convince me, Captain."
Greer Nicodemus sits back slowly, one leg sliding over the other. "Convince you? Of what?" she snorts. "What do /I/ get if I tell you what you want?"
Phipps remains silent. With a smile. A very polite smile.
The Lieutenant's brows arch at that, as if he were surprised the conversation's taken this turn. "Why, Captain. I'm placing you in a position to buy your freedom. I'm a fair man; I realize that you aren't the real villain here. So...give me a reason not to send you to a penal facility in someone else's stead."
Greer Nicodemus's eyes narrow. "I want that in writing. Then I'll answer your questions."
. o O Greer Nicodemus is relieved.
. o O Greer Nicodemus thinks, "I may get out of this scot-free yet."
"You haven't convinced me," Jim says with his brows arched a bit more. "I believe that when an exchange takes place, one must...sample the goods before accepting the deal. Isn't that the case?"
Greer Nicodemus grimaces, shifting in her seat. Her brow furrows as she thinks for a minute, rather frantically, to judge from her expression. "Okaaaay..." Not at all enthusiastic about doing so, she says, "I was picked to bring the gems here because my... employer figured y'all wouldn't bother inspecting my cargo very hard. I'm human. He's... not."
Phipps shifts his stance slightly, but otherwise remains silently still.
A ghost of a nod from the Lieutenant signals his satisfaction - he picks up his mug, steam still carrying aloft its oily smell, and takes a deep drink from its contents. "Computer," he calls then. "Initiate standard information exchange document, signature Mulwray-Seven-Seven-Four. Terms are dictated as thus: the subject, one Greer Nicodemus, will enjoy suspension of all charges levied against her provided all information given proves accurate and correct. If she is found in violation of this agreement all charges are to be immediately resumed and a warrant for her arrest to be issued with the additional charges of falsification of testimony with intent to facilitate smuggling operations; her ship and all property on board at time of arrest will be sold at auction and the resulting funds directed to the cost of her defense at trial." He looks down at the woman then, expression bland. "Do you agree?"
Greer Nicodemus's voice nearly leaps forth. "I agree!" Relief vies with craftiness in her gaze.
Phipps arches an eyebrow, but remains silent.
. o O Phipps thinks, "Should've, like, found out what she actually -knows- before agreeing to that."
"Very well. Computer, execute document and transfer to my PADD." There's a pause, and there's the faintest of chirps from a drawer in the desk - he squints at it a moment, the Lieutenant, before reaching down to open it. "You are going to find that I am a very fair man, Captain. But if you test me..." The PADD is removed, his expression drawn. "Let's hear it."
Greer Nicodemus takes a deep breath. "Snaw Alovar. We asked me to meet him in the Rigel system, and I did. He had the gems already, just needed to get them here, and since he's Orion..." She smiles faintly, grimly. "I'm supposed to deliver them to him in a couple of hours."
"Had a nice dinner, I recall," Phipps puts in, calmly.
Jim's brows arch a tad. "And did you get paid for this work?"
Greer Nicodemus gives Phipps a startled look. "How did you know...?" And the wheels obviously start spinning in her head, then she smirks. "So somebody on the Diamond Dust is a traitor. Nice." Her voice is heavily sarcastic on that last word. Flipping her gaze back to Mulwray, she arches a brow of her own. "Six bars."
"Six bars is a lot of latinum." Jim whistles his appreciation, moving to perch upon the edge of the desk again - looming, as is his wont. "Now that's smuggling money - dirty cash. And if I were an unfair man I'd take it from you in fines. But as I'm not..." A look to Phipps. "I'm going to let you keep it. Provided, of course, you assist me in a little police operation."
Phipps arches both eyebrows slightly, but remains silent.
Greer Nicodemus stiffens a little at the fines comment, then bites her lip. "Assist you? How?"
Mulwray lifts a single finger. "I'll get to that. But first, you explain to me the nature of your drop."
Greer Nicodemus shrugs. "It's not anything fancy. Snaw and I go back a long way. Once the cargo's released to me, I just take it to his booth on the mall."
"Now see, that's the thing." Jim's lips purse a little. "I don't think that's what's going to happen, Captain. That cargo was packed such as you could easily tell what was in there - Starfleet procedures, as I'm /sure/ you know, veteran cargo pilot as you are, involve at least a sensor sweep over cargo boxes. These things we picked up with a simple tricorder scan which makes me wonder...what does this say about this fellow?"
Greer Nicodemus blinks, startled. "What? But Snaw said there'd be shields on the gems..." And her expression starts to darken stormily.
. o O Greer Nicodemus thinks, "I'll kill him. You are a dead man, Snaw Alovar."
Jim nods once. "I can I give you the scan data to review if you want, but there you are. So I have to ask you. What do you think?"
Greer Nicodemus's hand clenches. "I think," she says in a low voice, her gaze distant, "That I need to have a little 'chat' with Snaw. Preferably involving the removal of green skin in strips."
"That...would be fair." Jim purses his lips, slipping off to finish his juice. "But I can't allow that. What I /can/ do, however, is have you assist me in putting this fellow in lockup for a good long time - can I get you something to drink now, by the way?"
Greer Nicodemus looks up at Mulwray from beneath lowered brows. "Now that, Lieutenant, is a deal. Coffee'd be fine."
The smiling Ensign continues to smile, politely, still and quiet. At least til the word 'drink' is mentioned. Phipps moves to the replicator, pausing until Nicodemus answers Mulwray's question. Then he prods at the unit. "Coming up," he announces, cheerfully.
It's a wide smile that the Lieutenant gives her now, brilliant and sparkling. "Cream and sugar?"
And the camera fades to blackout. When it reveals picture again, it's in the midst of the bustling mall on Level 18. The trader festival, though dying down, is still busy enough that crowds are inherent, with all the noise that accompanies dickering and sometimes even a bit of shouting as bargains and bartering are made. Amidst the crowd, Greer Nicodemus appears, carefully directing an antigrav with a pyramid of crates upon it thought the crowd. Occasional apologies are murmured to passersby.
And back in Station Security...
It's in Station Security that Lieutenant Mulwray sits, Type II in hand - watching himself a right entertaining little program. It's a police drama! Or at least it's shaping up to be. And the audience, besides the Lieutenant and Ensign Phipps, are a whole group of Security non-coms ready to lay down the hurt on said illegal individuals. But for now...we watch.
Phipps is performing last-minute checks on his Type II, of course. Eyes glance between weapon and screens. He observes in his verbose manner, "Crowded."
. o O Phipps thinks, "Makes getting the angles right tight."
. o O Phipps feels slight concern, overriden by confident, disciplined calm.
"Yeah." Jim frowns as he watches the situation unfold, phaser tapping against a mighty bicep. "Going to be right chaos as this goes down - we're going to have to take out the obvious particulars at least. Transport inhibitor will do a good bit toward keeping things...hmm. I figure the innocents will stream by the cordon so we'll need to be ready for that...but. This Alovar, he's Orion. I'm pretty certain he'll get his blood up, try to take out Nicodemus along with the rest of us - you make sure he goes down first. The Captain's made quite a fair sacrifice to make this happen, I don't want her getting the short end.'
Crowded indeed, but Nicodemus gets to her goal eventually- the booth set up by the Alovar Merchant Consortium. A variety of goods are on display there, tended by various Orion men, though the majority of the wares seem to be aimed at female buyers- silks, clothes, jewelry, even shoes. One of the Orions, bulky and perhaps in his thirties, spots her and moves to meet the woman. "Greer! Thought you'd never get here." He tilts his head toward the transport device. "Looks like you came through on the incense, then?"
And Greer Nicodemus gives the man a long look, before smiling faintly. "Don't I always, Snaw?"
Phipps tilts his head, peering at Mulwray. "You mean immediately, sir?" There's a slight lick at his lips. "Sorry. Stupid question. Security beaming in'll be sortof obvious." A faint, brief grin.
"Problem is that we can't shield her out - it'll make her. But..." He looks to a sandy-haired noncom nearby. "Connors. Get a containment field ready along with that inhibitor, centering around the booth. Things look bad we'll transport in through the field and before the inhibitor. Make things tighter for us, but it'll protect the civilian density there. Give them more to shoot at than Nicodemus."
"Aye, Lieutenant." The noncom gets busy at the desk.
Meanwhile, on the mall, Snaw Alovar gives Greer a hearty clap on the shoulder. "Just so, just so." He turns to gesture to some of the other men at his booth, and they round the tables to start offloading the crates into their inventory. Greer, for her part, folds her arms across her chest and steps back, glancing around nervously. And Snaw notices, and peers at her. "Something wrong?"
Phipps straightens, snapping his phaser into his palm snugly from it's previous resting position. "Sir," he nods at the screen. "Time."
"Give her a minute," Jim says with a hand lifted, reaching for his commpin. "Operations. Prepare beam-out on my signal."
Greer Nicodemus looks back at the Orion. "No," she says in a low voice, her eyes glittering. "Nothing at all, Snaw." Ignoring or missing the way Alovar's eyes narrow, and he starts to look around alertly, she watches the Alovar Orions get the rest of her cargo off the antigrav. "Alright. Gimme the other three bars, Snaw."
GAME: Phipps contests his Intellect/Perception vs Moderate and Succeeds.
Mulwray gets to his feet. "Operations," Jim says, something dawning in his eyes, "Give me a diversion - call yellow alert in that section of the deck and commence beamout immediately."
The yellow alert lights flash throughout the station.
Phipps peers at the screen, brow furrowed, with a slight frown curving his lips. "I hope she thinks to duck when we beam in," he comments, thoughtfully.
And, as the team beams out, on the screen Snaw Alovar's expression turns to rage abruptly. He dives for a device on the table, yelling into it, "Emergency beamout!" And Greer Nicodemus looks on in utter satisfaction... and then the pillars of shimmer appear, dumping the Security team into place.
Manifesting like the head of a host of avenging angels Lieutenant Mulwray appears with a phaser taking the place of a flaming sword. He's got his game face on, that stark stony expression that bespeaks a world of hurt coming down on anyone who so much as /moves/ in the wrong direction.
"Snaw Alovar," rumbles the enormous man with the mingled gold-and-silver sparkles of the security and inhibitor fields snapping into place behind him. "You and your confederates are hereby bound by law. Stand down and prepare to be brought into custody."
GAME: Mulwray spends a courage point.
GAME: Mulwray contests his Presence/willpower & Intimidation (claiming Advantage) vs Greer Nicodemus's Presence/willpower and Fails.
Phipps slips down into a crouch the instant the confinement beam looses it's grip on him. The phaser comes up, zeroed on Alovar. A thin film of air is all that lies between thumb and contact.
Snaw Alovar snarls at the response from his ship- "There's a transport inhibitor down there, Master. We can't beam you out!" And the Orion whirls, his gaze finding Mulwray, and a hand dives beneath his tunic. And the other four Orions take their cue from him, doing the same.
In the meantime, Greer Nicodemus is ducking. She's not smart, but she has great survival instincts. The crowd is pretty much staring.
GAME: Mulwray spends a courage point.
GAME: Phipps contests his Coordination/dexterity & Energy Weapon/phaser vs Snaw Alovar's Coordination/reaction & Dodge and Fails.
GAME: Mulwray contests his Coordination/dexterity & Energy Weapon/phaser (claiming Advantage) vs Snaw Alovar's Coordination/reaction & Dodge and Succeeds.
"Open fire!" And before the words have finished taking the trip from Mulwray's tongue to open air the Lieutenant has opened fire - a golden lance whistling through the air to drill into Alovar's figure. Now let's see if his constitution can allow resistance.
Phipps squeezes with his hand, pushing the contact onto his thumb rather than the other way around. As usual. In other words, he fires. Too.
GAME: A Security Noncom spends a courage point.
GAME: A Security Noncom contests her Energy Weapon/Phaser+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.
GAME: A Security Noncom contests her Energy Weapon/Phaser+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.
GAME: A Security Noncom contests her Energy Weapon/Phaser+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.
GAME: A Security Noncom contests her Energy Weapon/Phaser+A vs Moderate and Succeeds.
And all five Orions go down in a hail of phaserfire, sinking to the floor. A few seconds after the weaponsfire ceases, Greer Nicodemus gets shakily to her feet, and turns her gaze toward the unconscious Snaw Alovar. Her eyes harden, and she takes a step, and kicks him, hard, in his side, before spitting on his form. "Serves you right!"
. o O Phipps thinks, "Eh. Good thing I missed, then, else someone would've packed two."
"Arrest them. Take them all into custody." Nicodemus gets a glance. "All of them." With that, Jim Mulwray strides away.
GAME: Greer Nicodemus contests her Intellect/Perception vs Challenging and Fails.
"Yessir," Phipps intones. Naturally, he follows through the chain of command - by waving the noncoms forwards, while he smiles at Nicodemus. Politely. "It's rude to kick someone when they're down," he informs her, cheerfully.
Greer Nicodemus's jaw drops. "But... but..." she splutters, even as a noncom moves to take her into custody, and she's too shocked to even voice a protest.
And the security teams efficiently bundle up the Orions and Greer Nicodemus, and haul them down the corridor toward the security station. Another day's work well done... or has the day yet ended?
