The Spy Settles In

Posted on Wed 23rd May, 2018 @ 10:32pm by Lieutenant Damion Ildaran
Edited on on Wed 23rd May, 2018 @ 10:37pm

661 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Brushfires
Location: Transient Quarters, Deck 150
Timeline: Current

Damion Ildaran, now known as Corin Durant, went to Deck 150, which was half taken up by sleeping pods. These could be rented by the hour or by the week. He paid for a week and entered his pod. It was larger than most, having walking space with room for a small table, and being tall enough for him to stand up in. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, and Damion sank into it with a grateful sigh. The flight out from Starbase 10 had not been easy, nursing along a warp engine clearly on its last legs. Though an atheist, he literally had been praying the failing engine wouldn't leave him stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Well, Elizabeth, I'm back here, he thought, Now to get some sleep and figure out where this signal is being sent from.

---

A few hours of rest, and Damion was ready to start work. He had already decided to sell the runabout he'd come in; its only purpose had been to get him to Starbase 109 and to plausibly strand him there. That being the case, however, he now had to find employment or go into business for himself quickly. Starbases could not afford to harbor people unable to support themselves or to pay for the oxygen they consumed. Residents of a starbase or space station had to contribute somehow to the economy or upkeep of the station in lieu of direct payment for the oxygen they breathed. Those who couldn't or wouldn't got deported planetside.

It wasn't an issue of heartlessness; it was simple math. A finite volume of oxygen would be consumed at a given rate during a finite time by x number of people with y lung capacity and z respiration rate. Even if you factored in oxygen created from Vanguard's copious plant life, it still wasn't enough to sustain itself, and reserves of oxygen had to be either brought in periodically or replicated.

Okay, not-so-simple math, Damion admitted to himself. Still, he understood the principle. He turned on his PADD and performed a search for hire-ads. He'd already done such a check in his Starfleet quarters before leaving Vanguard; now he did it because it would make sense for Corin to have that in his PADD's search history.

Damion sighed. Disney's hire ads had not been updated since the previous day. They needed janitors and people to operate rides. Neither job paid what a man hoping to buy passage off of Starbase 109 quickly needed to earn. On the other hand, they were dead-easy to get hired for. Damion scrolled through other places--Casino Royale, Orchids & Jazz...

Don't you even think about going back there, he told himself. It's too far from Tivoli Gardens, anyway.

He left off the 'search for show' and selected the Starbase 109 Chamber of Commerce site. Damion filed a business plan and other paperwork for a sole proprietorship business as a repairman for hire, specializing in replicator repair. He'd been licensed for those before he'd ever dreamed of entering Starfleet; now, keeping up his license was coming in handy. Just about everyone had a replicator or several somewhere.

Except me, Damion thought with a chuckle as he glanced about his sleep pod. Pod residents ate in a communal commissary.

Replicator repair was difficult and specialized enough to pay well, and the fact that he wouldn't be tied to one place all the time would help him in his real task. It only remained to get approval to advertise from the Chamber, and he could start. That might mean an interview ... which could be interesting.

It became even more interesting when he saw the name of the Chamber's president: Jade Lantz.

"Oh, bloody hell," Damion swore, slipping for a moment back into the Scottish accent he used when he wasn't undercover. "This is a fine kettle of fish, now, isn't it?"

 

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