<USS Cervantes> "A Bad Day for an Andorian"

"A Bad Day for an Andorian"
 
            "Communication for you, sir."
            You could call what the Andorian Captain did a glare, if you
were the sort of person inclined to call a murderer "not very nice."
This was the evil eye distilled into a palpable look. The flunky paled
to the color of a fading summer sky.
            "Now? What the hell is it?"
            "It's the Ss'thla sir, only it's not through the normal
channel."
            "Well, tell them to piss off."
            "Sir, they say they have more for sale."
            "More for sale? More for sale? Like Starfleet breathing down
my neck NOW isn't enough?" The Andorian Captain was, for all his
manliness and culture of honor, sulking quite a bit. He hadn't quite
resorted to sucking his thumb or carrying around his favorite blanky,
but they were implied in his slouch and shuffling steps. The crew would
have been appalled if they weren't amused - and afraid that the Captain
would decide a little trip by the Orion slave traders was in order if he
heard them snickering.
            "He insists."
            The Andorian Captain flicked everyone one of his
dagger-sharp teeth against the nub of his thumb. "Encode the hell out of
them," he insisted. "And if Starfleet shows any sign of noticing, cut
them off, and we're going to leave."
            "Sir, that would cause irreparable damage to -"
            "I am aware of that. On screen."
            A strange Ss'thla appeared on screen. He was infinitely less
appealing than the hologram of the other lizard, and that was saying
something, since by their very reptilian nature they were revolting.
            "Where's Rahssh?"
            "Rahssh is unavailable." The jaw opened to reveal very long,
pointed teeth, which glistened unpleasantly.
            "I deal with Rahssh. What are you going behind his back or
something?"
            "No." There was definitely something the Captain didn't like
about this lizard. He was too green. It was even worse than the Human
pink.
            "So why can't I talk to him?"
            "You want statues? I have statues. For top dollar. High
quality. Want to see?"
            The Captain, finally, decided he was creeped out. "Give me a
few days to think about it." His natural urge was to snap a refusal, but
he didn't like the look of those teeth. Something felt wrong, so he
equivocated instead. "I'm almost out of money." He gestured at his
throat, and the flunky cut off the communication.
            The next thing he saw was a Starfleet uniform.
            If the earlier glare had been a palpable evil eye, this was
all the anger of every witch since time began distilled into a single
moment of true venom. The flunky it was directed at shrugged helplessly,
as if to indicate 'I couldn't stop them!'
            "Hello," said the Starfleet officer with a smile. "So,
suppose you show me your office? I admire your taste in statuary."

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