Under the Radar

Posted on Wed 17th Jun, 2020 @ 4:15am by Yuliette Marayan Dr.
Edited on on Fri 24th Jul, 2020 @ 6:37am

1,072 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: SB 109 Brown Sector
Timeline: MD11

“Go on then. Get in the bin. It’s shielded for technical parts, so they don’t get degaussed. There’s a hatch on the bottom. You’re slim enough.”

Yuliette couldn’t believe she was doing this, but she did as the Bolian shipping captain said. She threw her satchel over the lip of the bin and then hauled herself over with some scrambling and effort. The inside of the bin was scuffed all over but the duranium was solid. She felt around the floor and found a small catch, pulling up a false bottom.

“In this? It looks tight.”

“I’ve never had to put a person in it.”

“Can I breathe in there?”

“It’s not completely airtight or sealed or anything. It just confuses the scanners. You should be fine until I can unpack it for the buyer on the other side of the customs office. ”

Should be fine… Yuliette stood and peeked over the lip back at Captain Ulte. “They’ll move it that fast?”

“If I bribe him and tell him it’s a rush shipment, he will.”

“Let me guess, that’s part of the fare?”

“I’m going to a lot of effort here, Doc. I don’t move people off manifest. If you hadn’t been there for Bilby last year, and if you weren’t in so much trouble now--”

Yuliette motioned at the floor. “Isn’t there some other way than this?”

“Sure there is! You could just give the nice agent your name and I can try to explain why you aren’t on the manifest I already filed.”

Since that was hardly an option, Yuliette sighed, crouched into the gap, shifted around with her bag to support her neck and then pulled the duranium cover back into place.

First she heard the loading of all of the spare parts into the crate above. It took quite some time. But then the crate was moving along. She could hear muffled voices. She tried to relax and avoid thinking about the weight that sat on top of the hatch, preventing her from abandoning this plan. And then she grew sleepy. She just prayed the sleepiness was just her exhaustion and fear, or maybe from being a little chilly, and not at all about hypoxia setting in. If it was, she supposed she would never know it.

“Yuliette! Wake up!” The next thing she knew, she was being shaken, lifted out under her arm. “ Listen. You’re in Brown Sector. This is as far as I can take you.”

She rubbed her eyes and looked around. They were in a narrow alley lined with delivery palates.

“Look, I don’t know much, but from what I understand, if you try to go upstairs, beyond Brown Sector, the station’s internal sensors will likely figure out that you’re not accounted for. So, don’t go upstairs as long as you’re laying low.”

Discovering all of her joints to be pretty stiff, Yuliette made a go at a series of stretches. Captain Ulte was still standing there, waiting, holding out her satchel for her.

Yuliette remembered what Ulte was waiting for. If she didn't pay him, he might feel justified ratting her out for a reward. But he might figure out how to justify that to himself even if she paid the fare for riding in his dank hold. Well, she had to at least try to give the Bolian less of an excuse. Taking back her satchel, she opened her wallet and counted out their agreed on fare.

“Plus a hundred cred.”

“A hundred!”

“That was the palm grease.”

She forked it over.

Captain Ulte pocketed the credits and put the leading handle into his false bottomed cart, guiding it along behind him. “Good luck, Doc.”

Having no idea what came next, Yuliette watched Captain Ulte until he turned out of view. She’d been living in this moment-to-moment fugue for a couple of months now, ever since the shuttle had gone down over the desert. She wished she could say she had grown used to it, but she hadn’t. Nerves, nerves, she felt like nothing but nerves all of the time.

There were sounds and lights further down the passage and she followed them. The passage led her to a repair shop. All manner of appliances and computers were lined and stacked wall-to-wall. She stared into the blank face of an outdated replication unit.

“Can I help you miss?” a human with a sleeve of tattoos and a shaggy haircut asked. He was polishing a part of something that he must have been mid-repair on.

‘I uh, I… Sorry, I’ve just wandered in the wrong place. Gotten turned all around, I’m afraid.” She smiled with embarrassment.

“Oh that’s alright. Oritz here gets lost on the way to work. Every. Single. Day.” He motioned to an orion teenager at a work bench.

“I’d find my way a lot easier if you raised my wage.” Oritz shot back.

“You’re Cardassian.” The repairman said to Yuliette.

“Whu, uh. Yeah.” Yuliette wasn’t really thinking about that. She rubbed her neck. “I guess it shows. Is that a problem?”

“Not with us, anyway. So what were you looking for?”

“Where would I go to talk to someone about lodging?”

“Here on the Drift?’

“Um, yeah. Here.”

The repairman scratched his neck with the tool he was holding. “I guess you could talk to Tamrinch. He probably has a few rooms.”

“Where do I find Tamrinch?”

Fishing a grease pencil out of his tool belt, Oritz’s boss drew her a map on the back of a paper sale flyer. First he drew a circle, then a sweeping ‘s’ curve through it. “So this is the Zodiac, and on the Drift, you’re here.” He drew some arrows. “And if you follow in this direction, look for Tamrinch at this address. He’s usually up there on the third level, collecting the rent this time of month.”

“Thanks--” She took the flyer. The front of it was titled Findley’s Repair and Rentals. “Findley.”

“Just call me Ian, Miss--”

“Thanks,” she just said again, as she spied the shop exit to the street and made a bee line for it. And she was gone.

“Maybe she doesn’t have a name.” Oritz offered with a shrug.

To be continued ....

 

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