Where Nobody Knows Your Name
Posted on Sat 18th Jun, 2022 @ 9:11pm by Lieutenant Damion Ildaran & Qaraq
2,852 words; about a 14 minute read
Mission:
The Hunted
Location: Qaraq's Casino, Brown Sector
Timeline: MD 4, 2300 hours
When your neighbors are mostly intelligence officers, you can leave your quarters looking unkempt and wearing shabby clothes, and no one pays you any mind. That changes, the moment you step into the turbolift with other Starfleet personnel. Even enlisted crew start giving you the side-eye and stepping a little away. Senior officers gaze upon you with open disapproval. It almost made Damion want to laugh.
Almost.
He was well used to working undercover, however, so he stayed in character, gave his fellow Starfleet personnel side-eyes back, and mumbled half-hearted greetings when the rare someone decided to be friendly.
From the turbolift he transferred to the tram and rode it downstation until switching to the second turbolift, which brought him to the decks comprising Brown Sector. He stepped out of the carriage, glared at the fugly bald dude who sometimes showed up to bum latinum off the people at the lift stop, and then wandered aimlessly about for a couple of hours. He'd told Elizabeth that he needed some time to himself this evening. He was avoiding her, he knew; had been avoiding her since his meltdown in the holodeck with Graves a couple of days ago, but he didn't plan to let that last too long. Tomorrow night he would see her, unless work kept him late.
His meanderings took him into the area known as The Zodiac. It was a place where you could lose yourself, Damion mused. He did want to lose himself tonight, he thought, but not quite to this degree--not to the point of losing all ambition and self-respect.
As he walked, he saw wall posters for a new casino that had opened. Casinos held no interest for him--except that this one was open only at night. That was odd. Casinos tended to operate 24/7. He knew space in Brown Sector was at a premium, so what was the place used for during the day?
For an intelligence officer who worked with Starfleet CIS, that question needed answering. It also occurred to him that casinos served alcohol. He could do with some alcohol tonight--a lot of it. Damion altered his course toward Qaraq's.
Qaraq himself had been busy tending to the bar. Bartending was always Qaraq's favorite thing to do. For four wonderful decades it had been him and Ertha serving drinks while any combination of their ten children took orders and, if they were older, bouncing at the front. In forty years, Qaraq had only thrown out twenty customers. All of them had refused to pay for a round of ales after losing a fight. He'd had his share of riff-raff, including a joined Trill who was so bad at gambling he'd lost all his clothes. Qaraq had taken pity on the guy, but he refused any clothing from Qaraq, saying he didn't want to owe anyone anything. Besides, he'd explained, Delavi was a place so disreputable that no one batted an eye at a nude Trill, and clothes were overrated anyway. The other regulars took to calling him "noodle." It was not the strangest thing about Delavi.
Now in his new environment, Qaraq guessed that kind of scurrilous clientele would be nearly nonexistent. The bar and buffet had been open for a day now, and there had already been some people coming in for a cheap meal. Criswell had taken care of the menu and all of it met Qaraq's stamp of approval. The variety of drinks was very lacking, and Qaraq had made it a point to take care of that problem himself. As for the casino, the slot machines and pinball games had been activated and were already being put to good use, though all of them were going to disappear in the next couple days when Qaraq replaced them with newer ones. At the moment, the place was only open at night, but it would be a 24/7 place as soon as he could find more help.
Currently the only person at the bar was the hulking Lurian who'd asked for several refills and had been there the past two hours and didn't talk much. Qaraq had to admit he was rather bored.
Damion entered the casino and tried to make sense of it. The place was a mix of seedy and oddly upscale bits. The gaming tables and slot machines--definitely seedy; the bar--much less so. It wasn't quite up to Jade Lantz's standard, but that would look out of place in Brown Sector, anyway. Damion played a game of pinball or two, trying it out, as he'd never played pinball before. It bore vague similarities to billiard games, which he was familiar with.
After the second pinball game ended, Damion explored the buffet and scooped up a bowlful of hot, crispy chips, drizzled some cheese sauce over them, walked over to the bar, and took a seat. It was tended by a tall blue-skinned guy with horns growing out of his head and chin.
"What've you got on tap?" Damion asked.
Qaraq had been trying not to watch Damion play pinball, which was a little hard to do given the lack of customers currently inside. He'd also found that most people become very uncomfortable with a Broot staring at them. Qaraq smiled and for a moment it appeared that his blue skin took on a lighter and brighter shade of blue.
"This casino is currently undergoing remodeling," Qaraq boomed. "Unfortunately, the bar is not fully stocked yet and the drinks I have on order won't arrive until Tuesday. I do have a rather large variety of something called 'synthehol,' but I would never recommend it. It's only here because it's required. The best drink I can offer is a dark ale I brought with me from my home. It's called Delavian Korfmager, my late wife's finest creation."
Damion only briefly considered the synthehol. "Synthehol is for pretend drinkers. I want to get plastered, but I also do not want to get plastered," he admitted to Qaraq. "I'll try a pint of the Korfmager, please. I'm sorry about your wife, matey."
"Thank you," Qaraq said as he poured the drink and set the glass mug on the table. "My name is Qaraq."
"Damion." He nibbled on a chip that was piping hot, crispy on the outside and all fluffy potato on the inside, just the way he liked them. "These are good. I've not had chips like this since I was last on Earth. I used to eat them with battered fish and vinegar." He sipped from the dark ale and smiled. "Your wife was a fine brewer."
Qaraq smiled. "Indeed she was. I'm glad you are enjoying the food. My assistant was the one who chose our menu. The chips are his favorite, and I find them delicious as well. Your human food is very similar to Broot cuisine. I must try the battered fish you mentioned."
"The closest thing we have to a proper chippy on the base is this bloke who sells haddock suppers out of a pushcart in Tivoli Gardens. I can take you there for lunch sometime," Damion said.
"So," said Qaraq, changing the subject, "what is it you do here? Do you live in Brown sector?"
Damion shook his head. "No, I don't live in Brown Sector, but I do spend a good bit of my off-hours here. I'm friends with Elizabeth Anderson, one of the counselors at the psych clinic. She introduced me to these decks because I'd never heard of them. I also help out at the community center sometimes. I work for Starfleet Criminal Investigations. I'm dressed this way to try and fit in. They're not fond of Fleeties down here."
Qaraq nodded. "My assistant has said the same of Brown Sector. Working for Criminal Investigations must bring you down here a lot. How do you interact with people down here?"
Damion gave Qaraq a wry smile. "Carefully. A lot of the folks down here are decent people, just trying to make ends meet and save a little to advance themselves. But there are gangs, and there is a criminal element. A few of the panhandlers can get aggressive if you don't de-escalate them. Drugs are a problem in certain areas. The part I consider Brown Sector proper is pretty clean; the Bajorans keep it that way. The worst parts of The Zodiac--not so much. Section M is a pain. You could probably go there alone without getting beaten up and robbed. Me--only if I made a concerted effort to project that I'm more trouble than they want to deal with. Otherwise, I'd get clobbered."
Qaraq laughed. "Sounds like home to me! Delavi was no place for the Starfleet type. A human officer who'd gone AWOL stumbled into my bar one night. He looked like a weakling compared to my other patrons and I immediately saw he was out of place. As it turned out, he'd been accused for conspiracy and was believed to be a defector, but I just saw him as another lost soul. For six months I provided him food and shelter. When he was finally found, he was informed his innocence had been proven, but he still had to stand trial for desertion. He was given the option to retire and took it. While he was on Delavi, his daughter gave birth to his first grandchild. After the trial, he sent me a picture of him holding the baby girl."
Damion sipped more of his ale. "That was my impression of Starfleet cadets when I entered the Academy. Complete wide-eyed innocents, many of them. You're a decent sort for helping that guy."
"Why thank you," Qaraq said with a small bow of his head. "We Broots are a warrior race. We enjoy a good fight, as long as the loser buys the winner and his friends a round of ale. We're not as barbaric as the Klingons. Family always comes first in my culture. To die with your family around you is a better honor than dying foolishly in battle."
Damion chuckled. "God help you if a Klingon ever hears you call him barbaric. Your people are new to me. I've never heard of Broots before. Where do you all come from?"
"We come from nowhere now," Qaraq said. "Three hundred years ago, our home planets were consumed by the Mobi. I believe your Federation called it a 'doomsday machine.' Our whole race was obliterated, save for the three-hundred thousand who managed to escape. Now we are scattered across the galaxy."
"Reminds me of the El-Aurians, though their homeworld was attacked by the Borg," Damian said. "Well, I'm glad you came to 109. It sounds like you're wanting to make this place better than it was. I'd thought to make this just a one-off visit, but I think I'll be back."
"Feel free to become a regular, Mr. Damion!" Qaraq boomed with a grin. "If you know of anyone here in Brown looking for work, send them here. I need more help if this is going to be a 24/7 casino. Right now, I'm short on everything. Bartenders, dealers, Dabo girls, security, custodians..."
"If I didn't have a full-time job, I'd be interested in training as a dealer," Damion said. "I like the card games. I'll ask around. There's a job board at the community center, and if you'd be interested in looking farther afield, there's a BESM settlement upstation, along with Tivoli Gardens and Perry Gardens."
Qaraq nodded. "My assistant has done some work in the community center looking for jobs. So far a few applicants have come in, but not as much as I would like. The most difficult employees to find will no doubt be the Dabo girls."
Damion shot him an amused look. "I have a colleague who could probably work as a first-class Dabo girl with no problem--but she'd be working undercover."
"Hmm... you mean she's a spy," Qaraq said, brow furrowed. "Why would you need a spy in my casino?"
"No. I'm a spy. She's a law enforcement officer--a very good one. I meant that probably the only reason my colleague would seek work as a Dabo girl here would be if she were undercover, investigating someone. Otherwise, she'd just want to enjoy the casino."
Qaraq shook his head. "I'm sorry Damion, I'm afraid I don't fully understand. Doesn't the fact that they're undercover and investigating mean that they are literally spying? From the way you've described your job here on Starbase 109 it seems like an exact description of what your officer would be doing as a Dabo girl."
"Point taken," Damion said. "Please tell me you're not going to distrust all of your Dabo girl applicants just because they might be my colleague. I was only trying to have a bit of fun at my colleague's expense, not give you cause for concern."
Qaraq laughed. "Back on Delavi, the only people I could trust were my wife and children! Believe me, I can be a very paranoid man. However, it would make my business run more smoothly if I was kept aware of certain individuals who may cause some trouble for me and my establishment, especially if they're working for me."
"I would imagine so. Crimes in Brown Sector and The Zodiac are primarily investigated by the Brown Sector constabulary, anyway, not by Starfleet CIS," Damion said. He sipped more from his pint and asked for a glass of water.
Qaraq handed him the glass and rested his elbow onto the bar. "This 'constabulary' you speak of... how reliable are they?"
"Thanks," Damion said with a nod for the glass of water. "For managing normal, day-to-day things, I think they're fine," he went on, "though they aren't well-trained professionals. If you need someone to investigate complex problems for you, Renato Solis at the community center is the person to talk to. He seems to have a genius for that kind of thing, notices details that others miss, sees patterns that others overlook, and so forth. If you need to find out something, Renato can do it."
"Sounds like someone I would enjoy working with," Qaraq said. "As long as we stayed on the same side of the coin..."
"I like him," Damion said with a nod, "although sometimes, he can be a little much. You have to let him know what your boundaries are and stick to them."
"Boundaries?" Qaraq's brow furrowed. "What, he likes to hug or something?"
Damion had to restrain himself from bursting into laughter. "No; his people tend not to touch people of other species. I mean in the sense of keeping private matters private. I shook his hand once; I shouldn't have. Anyway, aside from one lapse--very decent chap."
"Well I don't know why I'd be touching his private matters, but if you say he's a decent 'chap,' I believe you," Qaraq said.
Damion couldn't help himself; he shook with laughter. "Thank you for the laughs, Qaraq. I really needed them."
Qaraq beamed. "You're welcome! Some people are immediately put off by Broot appearances. They think we're very aggressive and scary. They're usually surprised to find we love laughing as much as fighting! Add in a few ales and a good tune and you're guaranteed a good time!"
"I'm going to bring Elizabeth here," Damion said aloud, "I think she might come to like this place." He slid his empty pint glass toward Qaraq. "I'd like more of the same, please."
"Of course!" Qaraq boomed as he poured another drink. "May I ask, who is Elizabeth?"
"Dr. Elizabeth Anderson, who opened a counseling clinic in Brown Sector," Damion explained. "She and I used to serve on the same ship together, and then we both came here. She went into private practice."
"What kinds of counseling are needed in Brown Sector?," Qaraq asked, pouring himself a pint of Korfmager as well.
"The same as anywhere," Damion said. "Elizabeth doesn't discuss any specifics of it with me, but I know she does marriage counseling, works with drug addicts and with people who have had undiagnosed and untreated conditions."
"Like gambling or drinking problems?" Qaraq asked. "It's come to my attention this establishment might not be completely welcomed by everyone in Brown Sector. I'm looking for ways to give back to the community. Perhaps Elizabeth could be of some help."
"She might well be," Damion said. "I'm going to see her tomorrow evening. If she's agreeable, I can bring her here to introduce you."
"I would appreciate that," Qaraq said. "My selection of drinks will be the same tomorrow, but if she likes a good ale I should be able to accommodate. There will still be plenty of Korfmager, of course."
"We'll be here," Damion said. He lifted his glass. "Here's to your wife and to good memories."
Qaraq smiled and clacked glasses. "To beginnings as well!" he boomed.
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