Escape from New Sydney, Act 1
Posted on Friday 14 September 2018 @ 12:45 by
Mission:
Academy Days
Location: New Sydney Colony
Timeline: 11 Years Ago
1436 words - 2.9 OF Standard Post Measure
"It's time, O'Hara!" A Tellarite built like a wooden barrel announced as he pushed his way into the bar, flanked by a Naussican and a Klingon. Tellarites, being short of stature always thought they looked more imposing if they brought a couple thugs with them.
The man polishing a glass with a bar rag set it down and tossed the rag over his shoulder. Michael O'Hara plastered on his best customer service smile as he reached under the bar. "An' jus' what c'n I get f'r ya, Gentlemen?" He reached under the bar, thumbing the safety off the disruptor he kept there, and quickly came up with three glasses, in an attempt to make them think that was his purpose all along.
"We're not here for the booze, O'Hara. Bokar wants his money." The Tellarite said as he waddled over to the bar and took a seat on a stool, so he would be at eye-level with the barman. "And he wants to know where your daughter is."
Michael made a show of pouring a glass of Whiskey. He attempted to sound conversational and at ease as he passed the glass across the bar. "I've na seen th' lass in nigh on a week now. I'm sure she's up t' whatever Bokar sees fit. As f'r th' money, I don' have it. Bokar an' I agreed that th' loan wouldn't be due for another three months."
"We've had to step up our time table. You're gonna have to step up yours as well. He wants it by the end of the week," The Tellarite picked the glass up off the bar and knocked the drink back, then nodded to the Klingon who picked up one of the bar stools and smashed it over the bar. "Or bad things are gonna start happening to you, to your family and to your business."
Michael frowned deeply. "Tha's na fair. You an' I an' Bokar all know that there's na way in Hades I'll have it by then."
"Not my problem, O'Hara." The Tellarite responded. "We came to deliver a message. I'm fairly sure it's been received. Now where is your daughter?"
"I've told ya she's na here," Michael put his hand back down, inching them closer to the disruptor hoping the Naussican, who seemed very interested in standing as close as the bar between them would allow, wouldn't notice. "I don' know what that lass is up t'. She doesn' talk t' me about anathin', an' if she turns up, it's only f'r clean clothes an' t' raid th' pantry an' th' liquor cabinet."
"Klugar," He said to the Klingon who hoisted another bar stool over his head.
"WAIT!" Michael sceamed. "I told ya I don' know where she is. I've na control over 'er! Smashin' up m' bar is na gonna help ya find her!"
The door to the backroom opened up and a red-haired woman walked out. "Mikey, what's all the ruckus out here? I h--" The comment was lodged in her throat as she surveyed the only three patrons in the bar, one of them a Klingon with a barstool over his head.
The Naussican turned and looked lasciviously at the woman. "Pretty Human," he snarled. "Be shame if pretty human not pretty no more." English was not an easy language for Naussicans, and the fact that he had managed to declare his intent so thoroughly with so few words would have been impressive in other circumstances.
"Daffy, I've th' situation well in hand," Michael said. "Go on out back an' see t' th' inventory." Michael hoped she would take the hint. She did.
"Gentlemen, surely there's na need t' be violent. Let me fix ya a drink an' we can talk this over like civilized businessmen." Michael was trying to keep the hard edge out of his voice and was failing.
"There's nothing to talk about, O'Hara. Bokar wants his money and he wants your daughter. If ya know what's good for ya, you'll find them both, and quickly." The Tellarite climbed down from the barstool and looked at the Klingon. "Klugar, put the stool down. We're leaving."
After they had gone, Michael sighed heavily. Daphne O'Hara poked her head out of the back room, peering around the door. "They've gone," Michael said, sounding not nearly relieved as he should.
"Daffy, Where is that good f'r nothin' daughter o' yers?" He asked.
"I don't know," Daphne said. "She hasn't been here in days."
"We have problems," Michael explained the visit he just had from Bokar's men.
Daphne looked worried, "And what do they want with Stephanie?"
"They didn't say. Th' lass has probably gotten herself inta a heap o' trouble that she expect me t' bail her outta." Michael threw up his hands. "She'll be after gettin' her own self out this time. I've enough problems without her addin' t' th' pile. Find out if Liam's seen her?"
Meanwhile Across town, in dark room lit only by the glow of a computer monitor, loud (some would say obnoxious) music played.
"Dig through the ditches and burn through the witches I slam in the back of my Dragula!"
Stephanie O'Hara furiously slammed her fingertips against a keyboard, the clacking of the keys was the only other sound in the room until Stephanie exclaimed: "I've got yer arse now!" To no one.
She was matching wits with who ever was in charge of Information Technologies for the joke that was the New Sydney Police Department. Everyone knew they were in the Syndicate's pocket. After her last incursion into their system, they had supposedly beefed up their security. It was still a joke as far as young Stephanie was concerned. Starting now, for the next week, every law enforcement officer on New Sydney would hear 'SUWEE, PIG!' whenever they activated their comm units. She cackled madly as she gathered her portable gear into a backpack, slung it over one shoulder and found her way out of the room. Maybe she would make an appearance at Daddy's bar today. She should probably let the Parental Carbon Units know she was still alive.
Twenty minutes later, she strode in to find her mother sweeping up broken bits of bar stool from the floor. "Wha' happened?"
Daphne stopped cleaning and leaned the push broom against the bar as she crossed her arm over her stomach and glared at her daughter. "You've a lot of raw nerve to show up here!" She said. "This happened because of you."
Stephanie held her hands up in front of herself defensively. "Woah, Ma... Calm yer tits. I wasn' even here. How th' bloody hell is this my fault?"
"Bokar's men were looking for you. What'd you to get in it with them?" Daphne scowled. "You're letting people into your head again with that blasted contraption that they stapled to your neck, aren't ya?"
"It's called a dataport, Ma," Stephanie explained patiently for what seemed like the millionth time. "An' I've told ya. I'm na a netgirl." She frowned and picked up the broom and began sweeping the bits of chair up. In spite of appearances to the contrary, Stephanie loved her parents. As she went about cleaning up the remnants of the bar stool, her mother continued.
"Whatever it is, you had best see to it," Daphne frowned as Stephanie opened the front door and swept the bar stool out into the street.
Stephanie was frowning now as well. "Trust me, I will." She rounded the bar, and selected a bottle of Jameson's from the wall and started to pour.
"Just what do you think you're doing, Missy? You're too young to drink!" Daphne scowled as she rounded the bar.
"Ma, I've been inta th' liquor cabinet since I was fourteen. I know yer na stupid so don' act like yer surprised." Stephanie sighed as she knocked back the shot and poured herself another. Then she pulled another shot glass from under the bar and shook it for display. "D' ya want one? Sounds t' me like ya could use it."
Daphne tried to continue looking sternly at Stephanie, but realized that 'mom gaze' was not really having it's intended effect. She sighed and said "Set it up."
Stephanie half-grinned and poured. The two took the shot.
LTjg Stephanie O'Hara
Chief Engieer
USS Merlin
