Lay of the Land - Part 4

Posted on Wed 3rd Mar, 2021 @ 7:22pm by Sipov Boros & Renato Solis
Edited on on Wed 3rd Mar, 2021 @ 7:23pm

1,689 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Business Not At All As Usual
Location: Deck 2245, Section 221-B, Renato's Center
Timeline: MD 2, 1920 Hrs

Previously, a conversation was getting started over a friendly meal ....

"We should retire to my office once we are done with small talk here, best to keep this a private meeting. What brings you here tonight, do you need help with housing?" Renato knew damn well it wasn't so mundane, but fishing was a process of casting and retrieving.

"Well," Sipov replied, once he chewed and swallowed another heaping spoon full of stew, "I'm here to know what you know, meaning I have some questions. Being new here, I don't really know much about this station or who the key players are, mostly in regard to security and law enforcement. I know a question would be why not go and talk to the Sheriff myself, it would be easier. But I don't trust any Sheriff or Security Chief or Constable or anything else they want to call themselves. A Private Investigator such as yourself, however, typically has no allegiance, so that's why I'm here."

And now to find out how that goes down with the P. I. ....

Continuing to eat. Sipov had a number of silent moments that went by before he was nearly finished. He couldn't tell if Renato was simply waiting for him or trying to get more of a read. Either way, the only thing the Vulcan cared about at the moment was finishing his meal so they could get down to business.

Renato studied the man down to his molecules. Former addict, current user was the conclusion he arrived at. Paul's voice in his head told him to seek helpers, not enablers, but this center didn't attract perfect people. Those who needed help often had problems of their own and rejecting them for that made no sense. This dichotomy ordinarily provoked a dissonance where the junky brain would pipe up and justify any decision that lead to revelry. Sipov didn't have much on him, and was as he appeared to be. That was good enough, the rest would come with time.

"I can't argue. I did much the same when I came here as a lost soul. We didn't have this place back then. Having this portion of the meeting occur over food is a gift from Kya. I had only ever intended to interview and place in housing, jobs, the standard service stuff. She made this a place people dare to call home." He took the wedge of a slice of bread to sop up the stew from the sides of the bowl, and closing his eyes for a moment offered genuine thanks to her for the heart and soul she provided. "Once we are done eating, yes ... for now, I can answer the first few burning questions?"

Finally stopping for a moment, Boros placed his spoon into the bowl and looked up at Renato. "Well, my most immediate question is around Federation Security. What gives? They don't have anything to do with this sector, obviously. Do they not care or what? Last I was made aware, the Federation is supposed to be some utopia, which we're far from down here. They don't seem to care about anyone down here. In general interaction and enforcement, how are they? Are they ruthless or more light handed? Most of my experience with Security forces has to do with the Breen, if that gives you some sort of baseline." Sipov wasn't sure how much Renato might know of the Breen, but it was likely he'd heard of them, just about everyone had as a result of the war.

Renato winced at the mention for sure, several hundred refugees here suffered under Breen occupation and relocation from prison camps. The rest of this man's questions were hard to answer, as well. He took the moment of a mouthful of stew to consider it all. The moment pressed on as he tore bread and slowly wound up to a reply, sopping the corner of the piece absent-mindedly.

"So, the Dominion War brought us all to our knees. This place was far from the front, and it got handed over to the FCDA, a Civilian group who stepped in to run the base. I wasn't there for that, my days came in the last year of the war as I ...." He decided the life story would wait until the alcohol was poured, and took a bite as he spoke, since the stew was still warm.

"They did alright. This little corner of the Federation space isn't uncivilized, but nowhere is safe really. Since there was room, and it was under the Federation seal, SB109 was the place for people to come take shelter. During that time, the markets on board here really stepped up and helped keep this operation afloat. I was there for that - magical moment, I tell ya, when the pirate bastards you hate roll into harbor with food, that hate goes to a nice quiet place in your head.

"The Borg raids, the Hobus supernova and civil war, real problems kept SB109 as a stopping point for extra people. About four years ago, Starfleet took control back. The groups living here had made this their home, so Starfleet allows this to go on for the express purpose of declining to move them off by force. Starfleet lets us regulate ourselves and only cares when the drama gets big enough to notice. They could come, but they don't. Life in the Federation isn't a fairy tale utopia unless you get to one of their garden planets. This far to the fringe, the fleet is spread thin, so we will get trouble most likely, and the order of the day is self-reliance."

As he listened, Sipov couldn't help but think of the fact that the Federation would rather turn a blind eye, generally speaking, than maybe help these people get on their feet and become more contributing members of society. In the end, it would be great PR for them, but there was something else keeping them from doing so. He understood it was likely a lot of people to move, but they didn't have to actually move them for them to contribute to society. But that was another conversation in and of itself.

Amidst all of this chaos, however, it became apparent that helping people, and trying to get them an opportunity for a leg up on life, was just what Renato was doing here. Otherwise none of this would've made sense, at least in any way that was of a positive nature.

"I see. It sounds like a lot of these folks are left to fend for themselves. That can be a cruel mistress all together." He took another bite of the stew before continuing. "In the future, I might be able to help provide opportunity to some of these folks, I'm working on getting some contracts setup, so I'll likely need a few hands for moving cargo and whatnot. Depending on the job, I'm not sure what the pay might be like just yet, but if you know anyone interested, I might be able to set them up with something."

Making the offer could help to show his true intent and prove to Renato he was just like everybody else, hopefully showing some basis for trust. Being unable to relate to someone or those they were helping always made it more difficult for conversations to evolve further, which he needed now.

"With everything that has gone on, this seems to be chosen as a place of refuge." It was likely some of the people here chose 109 for the same reason he did. It was out of the way and unlikely someone would come looking for him here. Starfleet wanted the real estate to maintain face, but also didn't want to fix some of the issues hidden deeper behind the walls.

"Is that how you found your way here? It seems to me like you've established yourself somewhat well." Taking note that his bowl was now empty, the Vulcan pushed it to the side and interlaced his fingers, leaning forward a bit on his forearms.

Renato decided to reply to select items of the man's inquiries, fully aware of the obfuscation. "At first, this was only a place for people to sleep that was free of substances. There weren't beds, or children, it was a place they search your bags, and smelled like unwashed people. It became what it is now by small steps, won with effort. I had to leverage my oddball collection of skills into something useful. When I stopped being the person who lost everything, I became the man who built something. This place is funded by goodwill, and I just am the hat it collects in. Any job offers you have, please send them my way. Anyone under this roof has to be a decent fellow, or I can't get good sleep. Now, if you need my other services, that's the private discussion I was alluding to having."

Renato finished his stew, cleaning the bowl with the bread. He stood and moved to the kitchen, stopping to say, "Be right back, just grabbing dessert, did you want one?"

The offer was appreciated but Sipov was full. "No, I've had plenty. I really shouldn't have eaten the stew, but it smelled too good to pass up. If you like, we can retire to your office and talk further."

He'd gotten the hint the other man wanted to take the conversation to a less public setting and, while he didn't entirely understand the reasoning behind it, he wasn't going to push any further until it was just the two of them. It was good to hear that he was open to providing him with people to give jobs, and hire as crew, if and when he got a ship. While at the end of the day he was just a pilot, someone had to run the thing and make sure everyone got what they needed. Following suit, he stood and picked up his bowl, placing it on a nearby counter. He didn't want to impose and enter the kitchen area without approval.

 

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