Gary & Sundae at Orchids & Jazz, part 2

Posted on Sat 17th Dec, 2022 @ 7:10pm by Renato Solis & Lieutenant Damion Ildaran & Gary Thirteen

1,217 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: A Fresh Perspective
Location: Orchids & Jazz
Timeline: MD-2: 1130

Previously...

"Well it's very nice to see you again," Criswell said. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to work."

"Sure," Gary said. "Take care."

Criswell departed and Gary turned back around. He gave a smile. "I meet a lot of people in my work," he said.

Damion nodded. "I've seen him around," he said, "mainly at Qaraq's casino, though I don't think he's a customer. Or maybe I should say I don't see him. You think he's there, and then he's gone. He's very unobtrusive at whatever he does. I could take stealth lessons from him."

"Yeah..." Gary said, looking back, though Criswell was already gone. "...me too."

Sundae purred.

---The Continuation---

Gary took another sip of coffee. Sundae continued to drink her cream. "So what exactly is it you do, Mr. Ildaran?" Gary inquired.

"I work with Starfleet criminal investigations," Damion said. "We primarily monitor smuggling operations and contraband that shows up here on the base, and we investigate crimes committed by Starfleet personnel."

The first part captured Gary's attention. Perhaps Lieutenant Ildaran could help find the servo pen that had been missing for almost two days... or possibly centuries. Best to take that part slow, Gary thought. He had not begun to exhaust all of his options yet. Detective Solis would be a big help, no doubt. But for some reason, Gary Thirteen was beginning to believe he'd already visited Starbase 109 before. He glanced at Sundae, who was ignored him as she lapped up the rest of her cream.

"That doesn't sound like a flattering job for an officer, investigating your own people," Gary said, deflecting the conversation from his growing ulterior motive.

Damion shrugged. "It is what it is. Sometimes, your own kind commits crimes, and you have to stop them. Sometimes people wrap themselves in the fine reputation Starfleet officers have and evade suspicion while they tarnish the very wrappings they wear. Those are the truly dangerous ones, because no one wants to suspect them. No one wants to believe a Starfleet officer could do something so bad. But they can, so I do the work I do." He leaned his head to one side. "What sort of work do you do?"

Gary glanced briefly at Sundae, who seemed to be trying to get the attention of their bartender, possibly for more cream. She's going to get fat, Gary thought before answering the lingering question.

"I'm a detective," Gary said. "Of sorts. I work for an independent agency that uses me from time to time."

Not quite sure why he was moving toward the animal at the end of the counter, Daneel walked in that direction, wiping the surface clean of any liquid or stain as he went. He reached out a hand to the docile-appearing cat, who allowed him a moment to rub between her ears, before meowing. Somehow, the humaniform knew she was telling him thank you.

"Oh, you liked that, did you? I've been told milk products aren't the best thing for cats." The animal shook her head, dislodging his hand, and literally glared at him. "No, no. Not me, I didn't think that, it's just what I've heard. Would you like some more?" Sundae looked at him, and her gaze was full of expectation.

Daneel laughed, "Right. Of course, you would."

He turned to the men, ignoring the line of conversation he'd heard. Humaniforms were good at ignoring things, even as they made internal records of everything that impinged on their awareness. "Your lunches should be ready, and it's evident your cat would like a larger portion. Is that all right?"

Gary shook his head. "She doesn't need the fat. Besides, this is a high, upscale establishment and she deserves the best. Bring out some of that salmon you mentioned earlier. It's her favorite!" He reached out and gently pet her head. Sundae purred with satisfaction.

"Detective, eh? I have a friend who does work like that, though he's far better at it than I could ever be," Damion said and sipped from his water. "I hope you at least get more interesting work than domestic disputes."

"I certainly do," Gary replied. Sundae meowed, looking directly at Damion. It almost sounded like she was agreeing.

Damion gave Sundae a brief nod. "Well, if you ever meet a fellow on this base named Renato Solis, the two of you might be able to talk shop," he said. "And if I can ever be of assistance, let me know."

Quietly, Daneel sat a dish of salmon in front of the man instead of the cat. The cat was slightly spookier. He returned shortly afterward and set each man's dinner in front of him. "Is there anything else I can get you for now?"

"I think just a pitcher of water, so you don't have to keep refilling my glass. Otherwise, this is fine for me. Thanks, Daneel," Damion said to him.

The humaniform nodded, retrieved a pitcher from underneath, and filled it with cool water and a little ice. He set it down between the two men and then moved down toward the other end of the bar, to give them privacy.

Stuck to the bottom of the pitcher was a paper napkin, the message it bared hardly spared the happy deluge. Written in ink, the condensation of the pitcher was spreading rapidly, the scrawled message visible for a few moments only.

"Speak of the Devil.”

Renato had taken great pain not to be recognized, and the interminable conversations with people who were all known to him had forced the budding sleuth into a background role as he took in observations. This was a fortunate turn of events, however, as the careful eye perceived a thousand things and among them was a few glances too many toward the well fed cat. Mr. Thirteen had a shadow, and within this revelation came both credulity and fascination. Stacking the note on top of the bar napkins sent to the end of the bar was the easy part; making sure only Gary saw the note before it was dissolved would take a stroke of luck.

Indeed, within seconds the message had faded and dissolved, leaving a blank and slightly grayish napkin underneath the pitcher. But Gary had spotted it. It took him a minute to realize the message was for him, and less time to realize it not only was from Solis, but Solis may have information too sensitive to share with Lieutenant Ildaran. Gary had to be careful now, knowing he was being watched. He tried to act nonchalant while eating his ham and cheese sandwich. Sundae was quickly done with the salmon and was beginning to meow at the humaniform at the bar when Gary stood and snatched her in his arms.

"I'm afraid we must be leaving, Mr. Ildaran," Gary said, holding out his hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Gary," Damion said. "I hope I'll see you and Sundae around." He pulled out his PADD and set it on the bar. As Gary and his cat left the restaurant, Damion began reading as he nibbled on the remainder of his lunch. The book title that came onscreen was The Human Source Management System by J. Buckley.

 

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