An Idea for Something Different

Posted on Fri 20th May, 2022 @ 6:44am by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Qaraq & Criswell Sandbags

1,896 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: The Hunted
Location: Qaraq's Casino, Brown Sector
Timeline: MD-1, 1330 hours

Qaraq had thought nothing of it when he "summoned" Commander Graves to the Broot's new office in Starbase 109's casino. He didn't quite understand the etiquette reserved for Starfleet officers, so his use of the words "demand" and "immediately" were not the best choice. Qaraq's daughter had just departed the station after giving her father a detailed tour his new establishment. While Qaraq had handled the business end of acquiring the station's casino, she had been the one scoping out the place. She'd been there the last week while Qaraq had been preparing for his move to a new home. He'd miss his bar on Delavi, but it was time for him to move on. Tending the bar felt lonely after Ertha passed. Besides, it was time to expand his empire. One of his sons could handle it.

Renato had mentioned to Paul in passing a few weeks previously that someone had sold their casino down in Brown Sector or maybe The Zodiac, but he hadn't mentioned yet that it was under new management. Now it was under very demanding management, Paul observed; the request(?) even said so.

Commander Graves-- I demand that you come to my office in the casino immediately. --Qaraq, Owner, Brown Sector Casino (Name Pending).

Since his near melt-down during the grand opening of Hunt's Fortune, Paul had avoided that casino--and any other casino--like the plague. The only reason he even vaguely knew where Qaraq's establishment was located was because of the newest sensor map that had been drawn of Brown Sector by Commander Baro's little spider devices.

He pulled up a map of Brown Sector from the LCARS, located the space recently bought by Qaraq, and then sent a civil but terse message back that he was in a meeting and would arrive at the casino once the appointment was concluded. He'd had no meeting, of course; he used the time to let the man stew and to find out who this Qaraq person was. Did he even truly have any authority to run a casino? That was important to know.

According to the library computer, yes, Qaraq did, confirmed with his Gambling Commission certification, permit to run a gambling establishment, and gambling business license, as well as fingerprint and retinal scans and approval from the Starbase 109 Chamber of Commerce. Paul studied the man's image in the computer--all 6'8" of him, complete with cobalt-blue skin and horns. Qaraq might be a bit on the skinny side, but his flesh was all muscle. Remind me not to get into any fights with him--especially if he head-butts, Paul thought.

Half an hour after receiving Qaraq's message, Paul rode the tram down to Brown Sector and made his way to the casino.

When he got there the room was empty, save for the plant and desk. From behind, a familiar voice said, "Erm, excuse me, Commander. Were you looking for Mr. Qaraq? I'm Criswell Sandbags, his new assistant."

Paul blinked and turned around. Usually, it was the counselor who pretended not to know a patient when meeting one in public, not the patient pretending not to know the counselor. "It's good to meet you, Mr. Sandbags," he said. "Yes, I'm here to see Mr. Qaraq. I understand he owns this casino now?"

Criswell nodded and gave a slight smile. "Yes he does. He sent me up here with instructions to greet you and bring you to him. I don't know if you remember me, but we've met before."

Paul smiled. "Of course I remember you, Mr. Sandbags. I'm so glad to see you've found something to do while you learn how humans act. I hope you've been well?"

"Um, you could say that," Criswell said, looking away. It was remarkable how well he mimicked a shamed Ferengi. "I've been busing tables at the casino's lounge. It pays a lot less than, well, any other job I've had... but it's enough to cover the rent for all three of my roommates." A sheepish smile came over his face. "But with the considerable raise Qaraq is giving me, I could probably move out of Brown sector and get some living quarters by myself! Maybe a bed, too..." He made eye contact again, and when he did his appearance changed a little. He looked... almost human. "Qaraq is not like the other bosses I've worked for. He says he sees a lot of potential in me. I think you'll really like him... although he does look very scary."

Why is he paying rent for his roommates? Paul wondered but didn't ask. it was Brown Sector. People helped each other out with financial difficulties when it was needed. They'd better not be exploiting him, Paul thought. But that was ultimately Criswell's issue to handle, he decided. Criswell wanted to learn to be human, and standing up for himself was part of that. As a friend he would ask the man, but later.

"I noticed. I looked at a picture of him before I came down here," Paul said. "I'm glad you're moving up in the world. You're definitely more than intelligent enough to have a better job than bussing tables. I am happy for you! May your new job please you and earn you a lot of profit."

Criswell couldn't tell if the Commander was being condescending, but he smiled and nodded. "Let's not keep Mr. Qaraq waiting," he said. "When I left him, he was evaluating the holosuite."

Paul noticed the man's uncertainty. "I mean it. I truly want you to succeed and to find work that you enjoy--and profit never hurts."

Criswell stammered. "Oh, um... I believe you. I didn't mean to imply otherwise."

=== Casino Holosuite ===

Qaraq's fingers gently rubbed the horns on his chin the way a bearded man would stroke his chin. He stood in the middle of the casino's large holosuite, deep in thought. The large doors to the room were left open for the moment, and when he saw Criswell approaching with a man wearing a Starfleet uniform, his thoughts were abandoned for a moment. He met them both at the entrance and extended his hand.

"You must be Commander Graves," he rumbled. He had the voice of an amplified trombone.

Excellent pair of lungs on this guy, Paul thought as he moved forward to shake hands and tried not to wince at how loud Qaraq's voice was. He was not used to being around people who towered over him. The top of his head barely came up to Qaraq's shoulder. He altered his breathing slightly to speak with more diaphragm and project his voice better.

"Yes, Mr. Qaraq. Welcome to Starbase 109," Paul said as he glanced around at the holosuite. "You seem to be settling in well here. You wanted to see me?"

Qaraq crossed his hands in a very authoritative way. Suddenly the visage of a man who would "demand" to see Commander Graves came back. "Is it not customary for a senior officer on a starbase to greet someone who will be maintaining a business on that starbase? Aside from the boy who processed my information upon arrival, I've not even been greeted by a person in uniform!"

"No, not really," Paul said. "I would expect someone from the Brown Sector Community Center to meet with you, but a Starfleet representative? Not necessarily. We tend to meet with high-ranking Starfleet officers and diplomats. Certainly, I'm glad to have met you. I need to be aware of what is happening on 109 and to know the prominent people here. I look forward to becoming better acquainted with you. But I don't formally greet every major new entrepreneur who opens a business here. I don't have the time to do that."

Qaraq stared at Graves for a few tense, unpredictable seconds before speaking again.

"You made me wait before coming here, didn't you?" Qaraq said. "You would not have responded so fast to my message if you were in an important meeting. And now you're telling me you don't have time to formally greet the mighty Qaraq?!"

"I'm not a ribbon-clerk to be summoned," Paul replied. "And it is a simple, unobtrusive matter to respond to a brief text message in a meeting. However, it is true that I stalled. I wanted to learn more about you before I came down to meet you. I prefer not to go into a meeting ignorant."

Qaraq's face was hard as stone for a moment. Then suddenly it relaxed and he chuckled. "I was just pushing your buttons!" he said. "Clearly my frustrations derive from my own ignorance. Please forgive me, Mr. Graves. I am very new to this particular environment. I know very little of your Starfleet. Where I'm from, the people who are most disrespectful are the people who gain the most respect."

Paul had to grin. "I come from a world where everyone pretty much says exactly what they think, and we have to learn to hide our feelings. It always feels very strange to me when I have to do that. What can I do to resolve your frustration? Was it simply that you felt slighted by Starfleet, or is there a problem down here that I can help you with?"

"Not slighted," Qaraq said. "Just ignored." Qaraq looked around the empty holodeck. "You know, there was a theater across the bar I tended on Delavi. When there were concerts, the people would always pack my bar after the show. On occasion, the performers would stop by and give autographs and take pictures. It was great for business! Wouldn't it be neat to have something like that? I could convert this holosuite into something similar. I was never fond of having holosuites on Delavi. They do bring in business. This place, though... it needs something different. Something for all ages... what do you think?"

An answer took shape in Paul's mind, but it was absolutely insane. He knew what he would use a theatre space in a Brown Sector holosuite for, but would any profit-minded casino owner go for it? Casinos operated round the clock, after all.

"I have an idea for something different," Paul said, "but it's a very bizarre idea, and it would likely cut into your profits too much to make financial sense, at least at first."

Qaraq chuckled a little. "Mr. Graves, I'm fortunate enough that anything I do financially doesn't have to make sense. Please share your bizarre idea."

Paul eyed him, wondering if five minutes' acquaintance with the man was perhaps a trifle soon to come forward with his impulsive thoughts. What did they say on Earth? In for a penny, in for a pound. "I wondered if you might consider allowing the room to be used for school space during the day. Some of the ladies here in Brown Sector have been discussing the need for space."

"That's a great idea!" Criswell exclaimed from behind them. The two men turned. "Er, sorry. I didn't mean to overhear."

Qaraq grinned. "That's what I'm paying you for," he said. He stroked the horns on his chin again. "Hmm... you may be right, Criswell. At the very least, it's an interesting idea. Tell me more, Mr. Graves. What is the need for a school in a casino?"

 

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