<USS Cervantes> "Good Officer, Bad Officer"

?Good Officer, Bad Officer? 
Ashne?e Al Kiara
Bela Ciardan
 
 
            Seated in a small alcove generously provided by the Andorian
(and virtually guaranteed to be bugged), Bela related the afternoon?s
events as quickly (and in language as neutral) as possible -- years of
statecraft had taught him to be discreet.  As an afterthought, Bela
added a brief but sincere-sounding plea for leniency on the Andorian?s
behalf.
            Ashne?e nodded slowly, her golden eyes disappearing
mysteriously behind the thick Hubrian lips. The modest gesture concealed
the slight quirk of her upper lip that betrayed her personal amusement.
?I think we can deal with the situation, Ambassador. I will join you
onboard the Andorian ship in ten minutes.?
 
*           *           *
 
            Kennedy folded her long, slender arms across her formidable
torso. ?You?ve got it? For sure?? She inspected Ashne?e?s discreetly
creased uniform with a critical eye. ?I still think you should put on
some ice-stick. Nothing says ice queen bitch like ice crystals on the
lips.?
            ?Is that their marketing ploy?? Ashne?e chuckled softly, and
plucked at the fingers of the immaculate black gloves Kennedy had
insisted ?completed the ensemble.? ?I think the creases, the gloves, the
boots ??
            ?The horror show  boots,? Kennedy corrected sharply.
            ?I think it?s enough,? Ashne?e finished. ?If the ruse grows
too complicated, it will be difficult to maintain it.?
            ?Is that what they teach you in Interspecies Diplomacy??
            With a slight sigh, Ashne?e shook her head. ?No. They teach
us the words of the Vulcan philosopher T?Kirr: ?Dishonesty is a mirage;
follow it and you will die thirsty. Truth is the clear lake. Drink
deep.??
            ?So technically you should beam over there, rod implanted
firmly in ass, and declare: ?Sorry, I?ve got nothing. Didn?t even draw a
pair of twos. I can report you to the Federation Council for failure to
report a first contact, and they might yank your flight privileges, but
you could book passage on someone else?s vessel and continue right where
you left off. So, run along now, try not to steal any more statues, and
play nice.??
            ?Well?? Ashne?e dusted her palms with prim aplomb. ?In the
face of Andorian stubbornness, even the Vulcans resorted to deception.?
            ?Do as I do not as I say.? Kennedy grinned, her eyes
sparkling. ?I like that one. You have no idea how much fun a tourist
stay on Gamalon V can be as long as you remember that.?
            ?All right, Lieutenant Rhune. I?m ready to depart. Announce
me, if you would.?
            Ashne?e stepped up on the transporter padd, and Kennedy
opened a comm. link to the Andorian ship. The gorgeous brass plates
decorating her arms clinked as she moved. ?Lieutenant Rhune to Andorian
vessel,? she said in a blasé tone, her mouth pursed disdainfully. With a
half-yawn, she added, ?The Rear Admiral will be coming onboard now.? The
latinum struts on her Elizabethan-style collar gleamed with expensive
gorgeousness. ?Better you than me,? she added confidentially, with a
wink of her diamond-dusted eyelashes.
            She remembered to capture a still image of the terrified
expression on the Andorian?s face before she snapped the link closed.
 
*           *           *
 
               Bela stood silently at the Andorian?s side, wearing his
most somber expression.  The Andorian?s antennae twitched nervously as a
young crew-member announced Ashne?e?s arrival.  Bela graced him with a
small reassuring smile.          
            The first sound was the echoing bullets of Ashne?e?s
footfalls. A stray beam of light illuminated the steel toes of wickedly
sharp boots polished to a black so deep the grim reaper would have been
proud to wear it.
            Slowly, the rest of her became visible. Wickedly creased
pants with seams so sharply delineated only the most cruelly obsessive
mind could conceive it sloped toward ominously black-gloved hands, a bun
pulled back so tightly it must hurt, and eyes that stared out, narrowed
to slits, with anger and disdain.
 The bar on her neck gleamed; this wasn?t just any Starfleet bureaucrat;
this was the Rear Admiral.
            ?Someone care to tell me what?s going on?? Her voice was
sharp as a razor.
            Bela allowed the Andorian to squirm uncomfortably in silence
a few seconds before clearing his throat and relating once more the
facts of the Khefiraan statues.
            The Rear Admiral?s ?Hmm? was ominous like a hive of killer
bees swarming.
            ?We can work all this out,? the Andorian said, with a wide,
trader?s smile. His charismatic act was belied by the nervous way his
eyes kept shifting between the Admiral?s black gloves and Bela?s amiable
smile.
            Ignoring the Andorian, Ashne'e gazed directly at Bela.
"Injection or phaser?"
            "Admiral!"  Bela flashed a reassuring smile at the Andorian
and continued,  "Surely we can come to some sort of agreement involving
little to no bloodshed.  Really, all we're dealing with here is a few
misappropriated artifacts.  I doubt the Andorian knows much about the
statues' origins."
            Grunting in begrudging assent, Ashne'e moderated, "Complete
financial confiscation, loss of Federation trade license."
            The rapid twitching of the agitated Andorian's antennae was
seriously hampering Bela's ability to maintain a straight face.  "Ma'am,
for a trader, that's as good as a death sentence.  What if we were
simply to have him return the goods and send him on his way?  I'm
certain he's learned his lesson.  You have learned your lesson, haven't
you?"
            The Andorian nodded emphatically in response.
            ?If you insist, Ambassador, I?ll lessen the punishment.? She
stood still and impassive for a long moment, her lips pursed in thought.
?Yes, I seem to remember a case now where a trader was permitted to
sacrifice his antennae as a public demonstration of guilt. A remarkable
precedent.?
            The Andorian?s vivid blue was paling like he?d been left too
long in the sun. 
            The Rear Admiral spent valuable seconds merely examining the
long fingers of her gloves, seeming to find some unappetizing flaw in
their limitless, immaculate black. ?I?ll need to think about this,? she
said coldly. Her too-high boots drummed on the floor as she walked out
of the room to think, each stab as clear and angry as a gunshot.
               Bela offered reassuringly: ?The Rear Admiral is a
reasonable woman, she very rarely takes cases like these personally.  I
doubt she?ll allow the fact that her last Executive Officer was Feline
to affect her decision.?  
            Bela trailed off, suddenly inclining his ear toward the
door. ?She?s coming back,? he cautioned, turning the Andorian?s chair
around so it looked like they hadn?t moved since the Admiral left.
?Here. Use this to mop the sweat off your brow. Don?t look afraid and
it?ll go easier, I promise.?
            The Rear Admiral stood aggressively in the doorway. The
creases in her pants made triangles of the shadows that ballooned from
her feet and swallowed the Andorian in their massive wake. ?I?ve made my
decision.? With careful deliberation, she removed her gloves, pulling
each finger loose before deigning to slide the cloth off her hands. When
she finished with the left hand, she began on the right, until after an
endless nervous gulping time, she slapped the pair of gloves against her
bare palm. ?You?re going to give back the Khefiraan statues.
Immediately. As an act of charity.?
            ?Of course,? the Andorian agreed obsequiously, ?I wouldn?t
think of any-?
            ?I am not finished,? Ashne?e interrupted coldly. She
regarded the Andorian with a cold-blooded glare that let him wonder
whether she considered him worth keeping alive. At length, she
continued, ?Then you will announce this first contact. You may doctor
your records so that the Federation Trade Commission won?t be forced to
shut you down??
 This time as Ashne?e paused, the Andorian held his tongue, waiting for
the inevitable stick to follow such a carrot. The silence pooled around
them malevolently, mosquito-infested stagnant waters. 
?Naturally, you will keep any further Khefiraan artifacts from leaving
the planet. It is your obligation.? Scrutinizing her gloves for
invisible specks of impossible lint, Ashne?e continued casually, ?And in
case your morals as a businessman lead you let me down, well, I?ll be
leaving a few letters containing a full account of your actions in the
possession of some of my friends in the Federation Trade Council. If
they catch wind of any amazingly realistic felinoid statues, then
they?ll have your merchant fleet disassembled into atomic pieces so
small a Q couldn?t reassemble them.?
            The Rear Admiral let the words endure until the ripples from
their interruption died. Then, just as the Andorian started to respond,
without showing any emotion at all, she turned heel and left. Each
bullet-step of her vicious boots made the Andorian?s antennae droop a
little more. 
            Bela clasped the Andorian on the shoulder as they watched
the Rear Admiral stride down the hall towards the transporter room.
?You know, I think that went remarkably well.?
*           *           *
            
            A few minutes later, Bela, Ashne?e and Kennedy were all in
the transporter room. Kennedy was bowed over in giggles at the
description of Ashne?e intimidating someone with horror show boots. Bela
was grinning as he recounted the bloody story, partially because he
enjoyed watching Kennedy howl with laughter, and partially because he
enjoyed watching Ashne?e struggle not to.
            ?I love this,? he concluded with a contented sigh. ?Not only
have we gotten the Andorians to undo the damage they?ve done, but we?ve
also made them a police force to protect the Khefiraa.?
            ?Cat cops!? exclaimed Kennedy through howls.
            ?At least something is going right,? Ashne?e agreed, leaning
casually against the wall of the transporter room, somehow retaining her
dignity despite her overzealous garb. A genuine, broad smile was her
concession to the moment?s jocularity. ?Thanks to your clever costuming,
Lieutenant, and your improvisational skills, Ambassador.?
            ?Maybe you should require the crew to take acting classes,?
Bela suggested, deadpan.
            ?Yes!? cackled Kennedy. ?I want to see Mallory pretend to be
an ice cream cone!? Clicking her feet together in first position,
Kennedy arched her arms over her head and commenced shivering. In her
best impersonation of Chase, she said, ?What?s wrong with the fucking
dairy industry? Someone get me a god damn space heater.?
            This time even Ashne?e was caught up in the laughter.

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