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Accommodation through Bribery and Intimidation

Posted on Thu Jul 12th, 2018 @ 1:04am by Commander Leigh Jacobs & Lieutenant Me'Shlaht & Lieutenant Evan Lougheed & Deacon Kane & Senior Chief Petty Officer Coltan Xan

Mission: Stranded
Location: Township of Selenar
Timeline: After with "Covert Crystals"

Lougheed stood with the rescue team a few hundred meters from the edge of town. They had managed to produce a few replicated weapons that matched what they had seen local carrying. The crude firearms would hopefully be unneeded, and the Lieutenant had a type II phaser strapped discretely to his back should they need a little more firepower. "Senior have you located our friend?"

Colt had just returned from scouting the town. He drew a map in the dirt.

"She's in this small building here," he said. "It's basically a box, and a small one at that. The cells are in the back, here. There's Gregor, the sheriff, and he's got a couple of deputies. They don't appear to be the sharpest tools in the shed, if you get my meaning. One of them is hanging out in a chair next to the main entrance. Gregor stepped out, but I don't know when he'll be back. The other deputy is off duty or otherwise shacked up somewhere. Lots of angry folks hanging around out front, though. Going in that way would be messy. There's a back entrance. I checked and when I saw it there was no one guarding it as far as I could tell. I got close enough to determine that it's locked, but I can pick it easy enough. Best bet is you cause a disturbance big enough to draw out the deputy, while I creep in the back and grab Valywen."

"Petty Officer do you feel like orchestrating a distraction for us." Evan said turning to one of the Security Crew. "I can cover Colt and we will extract Valywen, with any luck we can get out without being spotted. We'll leave the cell and the building open and with any luck it will look like she escaped on her own. The sheriffs may even cover it up instead having the public know they let her escaped."

"I can arrange a distraction, sure. How much time do you think you'll need?" Already, Petty Officer Jones was working out scenarios. "Once I have their attention, I don't know how long I can keep it."

"Just long enough," Colt replied with a grin. "I work fast."

*************************************
Down at the town dock, a figure stepped off the small boat who potentially could either help or hinder Valywen's rescue. The figure simply stood there on the dock ignorant of the part he was to play. He looked around the small port town with open disdain, not that he truly felt any animosity for the town or its people, but an image had to be projected from the get go. Shouldering his load he made his way into up the main street. Walking past the port-office he couldn't help but notice the nervous harbor master dispatching some lackey up the road, most likely to find someone in authority to deal with the unusual guest. Deacon pretended not to notice as he walked to a coffee-house and sat down at one of the outside tables. He was polite to the waitress, smiling and nodding in such a way that projected confidence, with just a slightly threatening undercurrent. Within minutes a steaming cup of cava was placed in front of him along with a small plate of sweet breads he hadn't ordered.

The Rigeian knew anyone's appearance in the town wouldn't go unnoticed so he decided to be 'conspicuously inconspicuous.' Almost on que, the coffee-houses owner made his was over, nervously rubbing his hands on a towel half tucked into his pants, "Is everything to your liking, sir? Is there anything I can get you?" he asked eyeing the expensive cut of Deacon's overcoat or the brass repeating rifle strapped to the top of his bag.

"Your cava es excellent, as are your breads," Deacon responded feigning the clipped accent of Sogn og Fjordane, more precisely that of Ouslanc its capital, marking him as someone from the political center of the country, "If you would be so kind as to bring me a second cava, it would be appreciated."

"Are you expecting someone else sir?" the owner asked sweat appearing on his brow as he glanced over Deacon's head.

Deacon actually smelled the unwashed body combined with the aroma of draft animal before he heard the boots scrape along the wooden floorboards of the porch, the sound of one dragged slightly indicating some weakness or old injury. "I believe this is him now," he said to the owner in a tone that told the nervous man that it was in his best interests to get the second glass of cava quickly. Deacon stood up to face his new visitor. He looked old, his eye squinting beneath heavy brows, though the tough life could have aged him prematurely. On his vest he wore a bronze badge of some type indicating that he was the local law enforcement.

"Good afternoon, Sheriff." Deacon said glancing down at his silver pocket watch, "Less than 15 minutes, quite impressive." The sheriff however looked less than impressed at Deacon as he quietly stared trying to get a read on the newcomer. Deacon calmly reached into his longcoat, producing as stack of forged identity papers along which was the gold medallion of the Teşkilât Mahsusa, the special police branch of the country's ruling counsel. I am Leftenant Deh'Kyan Kyiane, would you join me for a cup of cava?"

Gregor took the papers, glancing them over. 'Great, just what I need--a clean-nosed government agent from the capital," McGregor thought before handing the papers back. "What brings you so far from the capital?" he asked before taking a seat across from the other man.

Deacon flashed the Sheriff a knowing smile, "My business is actually further up the coast," he assured McGregor, as the waitress placed a second cup of cava in front of the grizzled lawman. "however some rumors of some 'queer goings on' have come to my attention. Have you heard of anything that might be concern to the Central Committee? Unrest? Unchecked Heresy? Corruption?" Deacon knew it was a broad list, but he also knew inevitably people felt guilty about something. Judging by the way the shop owner paused in cleaning spotless counter, color draining from his face, one of his comments struck home. Hopefully everyone would be running around, covering their own track to give him the freedom he needed.

Gregor studied the other man a moment. The last thing he needed was to be talking with a sympathizer--those who believed Janosians should lean more on science than religion. "We've had some trouble with a local heritic that I will deal with in the morning," Gregor replied. "I have her detained until then. I assure you she will not be spreading her lies after tomorrow."

***************************************************************

The sheriff glanced over to the jailhouse. Valywen sat slumped against the far wall of her cell. Her clothes were torn in several places from where Gregor had rough handled her. Despite the perilous predicament, which she knew she would likely be killed, her thoughts were on the aliens she had met. Had they already left? Had anyone else seen them? 'No...the aliens were too smart for that," Valywen thought.

***************************************************************

Meanwhile back at the coffee-house Deacon panicked FAY-FAY duh PEE-yen he thought, knowing he just totally screwed the pooch. Some sodding bastard was already caught up with these narrow-minded screwheads. He was just hoping cause panic not state sanctioned homicide. While the victim in this case might have been heading for whatever creative form of death these mother humping piles of dhaphaṛa prefered, his asinine comments just sealed their fate. Well, time for damage control

Leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose, Deacon sighed, "Ah yes, I forgot it's spring, 'Witch burning season,'" looking up at the Sheriff with a weary, sympathetic eyes, "Apologies sir," he said in a respectful tone, "Similar circumstances are the reasons I'm traveling further north." sighing he shrugged and 'explained' himself "While the counsel knows we can't tolerate any form of heresy, they fear so much,,,,'public spectacle' simply emboldens the wrong thinking individuals. My benefactor has sent me out here, to the hinterlands, to quietly deal with these malcontents." then Deacon was quiet for a moment as if he were weighing some options, "Let me interview your prisoner, to see if i can come up with a reason to take them off your hands quietly." As the sheriff seemed to consider his options, Deacon decided to press "As an officer of the Teşkilât Mahsusa, I could insist, but I prefer to be able to say how cooperative you were when I report to the Counsel." Deacon added hoping his bluff would pay off.

Gregor sat back in his chair, letting out a hearty chuckle. He hated dealing with government agents--especially those from the capital. However, the agent was offering to take Valywen off his hands and deal with her himself, then that would be alot of weight off of his shoulders, although there were a good number of people in town that wanted to see Valywen executed. Most of those people were the elders in the community, along with everyone in his department. "Sure, you can interview her, but taking her away could cause some unrest among the townspeople. Many want to see her burn," his smile turned wicked.

Deacon felt some relief behind his steeled gaze as he took in the sheriff's reaction. The lawman was not a 'true believer' or at least not a foaming-at-the-mouth zealot. He was political, well aware that his power rested not in a law book, but the will of the mob. Still it gave Deacon some advantage, politicians being so morally,,,,,plyable. Standing up Deacon placed silver stiterci along a few coppers on the table from his money pouch, pointedly allowing the sheriff ample opportunity to glance inside. "Well I suppose we should get over to your jail," he said leaving the small bag of coins on the table, "After I get situated, I would take it as a personal favor if you could find and convince the town fathers how it's in their best interest to allow the Counsel to deal with this problem." as he left the coffee house the RIgellian never glanced back to see if the pouch was gone.

Even though the pouch continued more money that the lawman would see in five years, Deacon knew he'd probably have to give him more coin for the sheriff's 'expenses.' Deacon didn't mind paying the graft but as in any negotiation with this carrot, a sick needed to be a least shown, "I'm sure a man such as yourself can quell any unrest." he said narrowing his eyes to the man next to him, "I would hate to recommend that the Council needs to have a permanent presence in the region."

Gregor took the pouch and stood following the agent--his smile now replaced with a scowl. He did not take kindly to threats whether they came from another lawman or not. "If you decide to take her, it would be best to not linger too long away from the capital--the border regions can be quite dangerous to lone travelers."

"Who said I was alone?" Deaon bluffed with a smile on his face as they made their way to the jailhouse, "Don't worry Sheriff, I assure you by morning both myself and your annoying problem will be gone, with more than ample compensation left behind to ease the lapse in your security."

Gregor remained silent as the two headed for the jailhouse. The building was easy to spot as it was shorter and stouter than most buildings in town, built of brick and mortar, its small windows covered with thick iron bars. Outside the building a crowd lingered some carrying torches. In front of the crowd, an older man in a black cassock preached to the crowd. He spoke of of truth and salvation and how the righteous and the God fearing people of the town would finally have the 'harlot-bitch, 'the deceiver's messenger' purged and the stain removed from the town of Clarrion, despite the 'False Words bound in leather'

Here was a True Believer Deacon thought seeing the wide-eyed look of joy or was it maliciousness in the preacher's face. Then there was a noise, just on the edge of his hearing, high pitched and building. "Tzao Gao," he cursed as he turned away from the sound and covered his eyes.

A moment later, a series of small explosions echoed outside, followed by some non-descript shouting and another louder boom. Petty Officer Jones had gotten some spare phasers together and overloaded them, a display of a lot of noise and light without damaging too much of the town's infrastructure.

Colt and Evan were already behind the Sheriff's Office when the explosions went off. He winced. The CoB didn't want to think about what Jones had used to cause them. If he did think about that, he'd realize that Jones had overloaded phasers (Colt had recognized the sound and was working on convincing himself that he hadn't), which could leave little bits of high tech debris everywhere. Instead of thinking about that problem, he focused on the lock on the back door. He'd cased the door earlier. The lock was sturdy, but picking locks, even old ones, was part of his training. He managed to get the lock open and quietly opened it.

"Cover me," he whispered to Evan and sneaked inside.

Phasers Deacon thought, Someone just overloaded at least two goram phasers outside of town! Looking at the sheriff he shrugged handing him another pouch full of coins. "Like I said, not alone." Looking down the smoke filled street, sounds of the beef dalgos could be heard breaking out of their corral, soon they'd be stampeding if they weren't calmed quickly, "You may want to attend to that." He added turning back toward the jailhouse.

As he crept around the building Deacon felt his heart pound. Overloaded phasers, he thought, that meant not the Breen, not the Klingons and not the Romulans. Of course their was a chance the explosion was not related to the prisoner but the marooned Rigellian doubted it. Then he stopped dead in his tracks, and smiled Especially not with that stench, It was a smell that hadn't assaulted his nose in years. An earthy, mineral smell, rust,, human. Pausing at the corner of the jailhouse, he glanced around the corner seeing a huddled figure who quickly spun around, bringing a weapon to bear, "Starfleet Intelligence," he hissed raising his hands, "NOC agent identifier Zulu Zulu 365"

"Seriously?" Colt said, shooting the man in the chest with his phaser set to stun. "Like I memorize the agent identifier code of every secret squirrel in SFI's stable. Sit. Stay. I'll deal with you in a minute."

Colt put his phaser away and pulled out his lockpicks as he walked over and knelt down in front of the door of the cell Valywen was in.

"Hang on, I'll have you out in a flash...just another second...there!"

There was a click and the door popped open. Colt grinned. He opened the door all the way and then went to pick up the man who claimed he worked for Starfleet Intelligence. The guy was carrying some extra weight...something heavy in his pockets? Body armor? Was he still awake?

Whatever. I don't see what he has to complain about. I'm the one who has to carry him back to the rendezvous point.

"Time to leave, my lady," he said, hefting the other man's weight over his shoulder. "And don't worry about him. That beam just knocked him unconscious. He claims he works for us. I figure I'll bring him back with us, toss him in the brig, and we can sort this out later. Come on. Lieutenant Lougheed is waiting outside. We need to get out of town."

Valywen recognized two of the men. The other, she did not, but she had no choice but to put her trust in the aliens' hands.

Lougheed had his weapon drawn and noticed a few of the locals starting to come their way. "Senior I suggest we expedite our departure."

"By the gods, are you trying to destroy the town?" Valywen remarked at the explosions as she rushed out of the jail with the aliens.

 

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