Well, There WAS a Ferengi!, Part 1

Posted on Thu 9th Sep, 2021 @ 3:49pm by Kendra Lincoln & Voareth Darqaron & Lieutenant JG Kellian Michaels & Mozatholm Zaldekulmu

1,112 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: A Good Day to Hunt
Location: Promenade
Timeline: MD-2, 0905 hours

Mozatholm stumbled out of the dark, empty room he'd hidden in, feeling half-dizzy with shock. He had to find someone, because there was going to be a corpse in that room very soon; probably was one there already. He shuddered as he peered at the nearby crowds. No sign of Mom. Good. Even at this early hour, many people were out and about. The starbase never slept.

Starfleet security staff wore yellow, Mozatholm thought to himself, but so did the Fleeters who did maintenance; they usually wore toolbelts. There were also Promenade Police. He'd seen them before but didn't see any now.

And then he saw someone he knew wearing a yellow uniform tunic turning a corner. Mozatholm ran to him. "Mr. Michaels! Are you in Security?" he asked. "I need help. Someone's attacking someone with a knife in a room back there." He pointed the way he had come.

"Mozatholm! With a knife?" That was unusual, Kellian thought. People typically preferred beam weapons nowadays, if they could get them. Bladed weapons were messier and more dangerous than most citizens were used to and very personal. "Show me where," Kellian said. He didn't see a member of the Promenade police after a quick look, and that didn't surprise him; the Promenade was a huge place.

"In a storefront that's under construction back this way," Mozatholm said as he hurried back the way he'd come.

"The shoe shop they're putting in?" Kellian followed him and grasped Mozatholm's shoulder. "Slow down; I'm not armed. I work in the forensics lab." He tapped his combadge. "Lt. Michaels to Promenade Police. I need officers on Deck 610, anti-spinward of The Hangman's Noose. Possible physical assault with bladed weapon in progress inside the future Blenheim's Shoes space."

"Promenade Police to Lt. Michaels--acknowledged. Officers en route," came the reply.

"Why possible?" Mozatholm asked, irritation tingeing his voice. "I told you what I saw. I do not lie."

"Yes, but I didn't see it, so I have to call it possible when describing the situation to others," Kellian told him. "How many attackers?"

"Just one, holding a knife to someone's throat. He was holding a shorter guy close against him, with the knife pressing here." Mozatholm pointed to a spot on his neck. "From the clothes and the head, it looked like a Ferengi."

"Is the attacker a Klingon?" Kellian asked. "They do commonly carry daggers."

"I don't think so, but it's hard to see in there. A young, skinny Klingon with straight hair, maybe. Most of the lighting came from the doorway, and I only got a quick glimpse before the door closed behind me."

"Why were you in there?"

"I didn't want Mom to see me," Mozatholm said. "She doesn't know I have a job delivering pizza while school is out. I wanted to get her something nice for her birthday." He rolled his eyes. "I'm probably going to be fired now, for not making this delivery. Mr. Rienzi will have to make a whole new pizza. I threw a piece at the attacker."

"I wouldn't worry. Witnessing an assault is a good excuse for missing the delivery," Kellian told him.

They were closer to the Blenheim's space now. It was hidden behind panels of drywall that would typically have been locked. The entry door was closed, but it obviously wasn't locked if Mozatholm had gotten in. Kellian motioned Mozatholm to silence as they approached. From nearby he could hear the sounds of running feet. Good, it sounded like the Promenade police were coming toward them.

Officer Lincoln ran up to the two standing in the corridor, obviously waiting for someone. She wasn't out of breath, yet, and asked, "Are you the ones who reported an attack and asked for backup? Details!"

"Kellian Michaels, Starfleet forensics. This is Mozatholm Zeldekulmu, who saw it happen. Mozatholm, tell her what you saw."

Mozatholm let out his breath and told himself to remain calm as Renato would expect, though he kept glancing toward the empty shop, worried that they were taking so much time, and there could be a Ferengi bleeding to death not seven meters away.

"I stepped inside that room because the door was open, to avoid being seen by someone. Before it closed again I heard a grunting noise and looked toward it. That's when I saw them. It was someone slightly taller than me, thin, holding a much shorter guy against his chest, pressing a weird-looking dagger against the short guy's throat here." He pointed at his throat again. "The guy's feet were dangling, and he was kicking at the taller guy, making grunting noises, as if he couldn't breathe. I could see the blade reflected in the light from the doorway just before the door closed. Everything else was dark or in shadows. His clothes looked Ferengi styled, like Trav on the barge wears. I was afraid he was going to kill the Ferengi, so I threw a slice of pizza I was holding at him and ran out to get help."

"You stay here," Lincoln said, drawing her phaser and checking to be sure it was set on stun. "I'll check out the building."

Inside the future store, Voareth stood in wait. Sure, she could have made a break for it as soon as Poark was gone, but, if these Starfleet security personnel were as good as she had suspected, running would have been of no use. With her ship still being worked on, she was stuck on the station. Security would have plenty of time to comb through sensor readings; plenty of time to find her. She felt it was best to face the music now than to face more music later. With Poark running off, with her blade in his possession, it seemed the situation was going to be far less dramatic than she expected.

Speaking of expectations, Voareth quickly surveyed the amount of time that had elapsed. The authorities should be arriving right…about….

Kendra stepped into the darkened space, only one step, phaser held out in front of her. "This is Starbase Security. Whoever you are, come out now and let's talk." She was only stretching things a little. Security and Promenade Police worked together, though she hadn't been sent to Brown Sector before. "Come on out now, you're safe."

Voareth slowly stepped out from behind a stack of storage crates. Understanding the Starfleet type to not open fire immediately, she was not entirely convinced of that and had sought out at least some bare protection. She stepped into view with her hands up, shoulder high, and palms out. “Is there a problem, officer?”

To be continued ....

 

RSS Feed