[JP] Marshall & Sienelis - Start as You Mean to Go On (Part II)
Quinn Reynolds
((Concourse Approach, Hai Tac Outpost))
::If the Iotian's grin could've spread any wider it would've as he glanced at the Romulan, steadying the rifle at the Orion, finger on the trigger.::
Zuccaro: Welcome to Hai Tac. You got any luggage?
::She grimaced, and slowly eased back from her captive. Disentangled, she slid through the bars of the roll cage, her feet hitting the ground with a thump. She followed Bear into the second buggy, breathing out a grumble as she went.::
Sienelis: Only the existential kind.
Zuccaro: That'll do. Jump in. ::He sniffed loudly, and the whine of the rifle sounded again.:: Nausicaans manage to get everywhere, don't they?
::Bear rolled his eyes and grabbed hold of the struts on the Iotian's Argo. It wobbled a bit on the right front wheel, damage sustained in the pursuit likely. A metal case sat on the passenger seat, standard phaser cannon mounted on the back (because who travelled without one on that moon) and in the midst of getting his breath back, he turned to Valesha.::
O. Marshall: You alright?
Sienelis: Got a souvenir. ::She held the Nausicaan's knife by its blade, wobbling it back and forth.:: You?
O. Marshall: Of course you did. ::Still, he chuckled.:: Stick it somewhere useful.
::The Argo tipped a little to one side again on the suspension as Zuccaro — all dark-haired six-feet of him in a dark green military coat — jumped into the driver's seat, all but throwing the rifle toward Valesha, and shunted the vehicle into forward acceleration without a second of hesitation.::
::It was only as the Argo they were in span on its axis to take them back toward the outpost buildings that Bear spotted the blown out wheels of the Orion's Argo, resting nicely in the concourse on its front axle. He glanced at Zuccaro as the vehicle sped back in the direction they'd recently come from, shouting over the roar of the engine.::
O. Marshall: They knew your name!
Zuccaro: That's not surprising! ::He went to glance over his shoulder at Valesha, nearly swerving them into a concrete block.:: Ten minutes on the ground and I've already had to save you! Doesn't bode well for the future!
::After stowing her souvenir inside her boot, Valesha ran a hand through her hair, staring back at the other, now immobile buggy and its two frustrated occupants. Almost kidnapped. Again. If she *did* somehow manage to come out the other side of this, she was taking a holiday. A long, long holiday with deep warm seas, lengthy bubble baths and definitely somewhere she was in no danger of getting arrested, kidnapped or maimed.
::A long, lonely holiday, no doubt. She swallowed at the pinch in her throat, pushing at the intrusive thoughts of past and future, and tried to focus herself on the now.::
Sienelis: Who were they? ::She turned in her seat, addressing the Iotian.:: How did they even know we were coming?
Zuccaro: Lileh and Noujac? ::He huffed a laugh, swerving again to avoid a dip in the road.:: Syndicate contractors. They pick up on what's coming in, see if they can make a quick getaway. ::He swerved again, throwing the occupants of said Argo to the side.:: Ridiculous, really. That shuttle back there — it's yours?
::Bracing his hand against the strut, Bear nodded, trying to heave up anything he'd eaten in the past few hours as the Argo slid and careened over the road surface with surprising slickness. However, he was pretty sure he was turning green.::
O. Marshall: Sort of! It belongs to someone on the Gorkon! ::He swallowed thickly, feeling the chicane in the pit of his stomach.:: She probably wants it back!
Zuccaro: Pity that! Handful of latinum in the right place, would've got you a sweeter ride off here! ::Again, the Iotian's eyes flitted up to the rear view, to Valesha and then the wreckage that was almost on the horizon line.:: How're your piloting skills?
Sienelis: Perfectly mediocre. Why?
Zuccaro: You're going to need them. ::He grinned and elbowed Bear, who nearly threw up in response.:: Better than your ability to keep down long island cocktails?
Sienelis: Better than Marshall's ability to hold on to his lunch.
::She grinned at the green-around-the-gills blond, trying not to take *too* much delight in his nausea... and mostly failing. Patting him on the shoulder, she shuffled backward, putting as much space between the pair of them as possible. The grinning Iotian laughed loudly, darting the Argo around a precariously parked shuttle, and threw it into a higher gear, weaving it in between erroneously and haphazardly placed crates and containers of all shapes and sizes.::
Zuccaro: I've got you somewhere to hold down for a few days until the ship gets closer. Not Starfleet luxury by any stretch but it's better than nothing! ::Working his jaw for a few seconds, the man looked to his right and angled the hurtling vessel in that direction.:: Your captain— did she ask about me?
::The question earned a sideways glance from Bear, and a shake of the head, who then turned himself in the seat to look at something that wasn't moving so much or so wildly as the view out of the front. Exhaling, he closed his eyes and held onto his abdomen, as if the organs contained inside were trying to leap out at any given moment.::
Zuccaro: That's a shame. I always liked her. ::He fished around in the footwell of the vehicle for a minute, then tossed the metal case into the back toward the Romulan.:: There's a couple of things you might find useful in there, other than that, you're on your own until your ship comes in, so to speak. Can't have you blowing my cover out here, you see. Coming down in that shuttle — I mean, really. It doesn't scream subtle, does it?
Sienelis: It was fast and didn't have "USS Gorkon" stamped on the side of it. ::She eyed the case in her hands, then decided to investigate it later.:: We weren't exactly spoilt for choice.
Zuccaro: Your Admiral couldn't scrub the sides of the yacht and let you take that with a Jolly Roger decal? ::He grinned to the occupant in the backseat.:: No, she's far too clever for— Ah, we're here!
::Slamming down the brakes, the Argo pitched forward onto the two front tyres, screeching to a halt beside a rundown building just shy of the interwoven outpost structures. Neon sign hanging above it, dismal looking pirates milling around the front, all they needed was a good dose of artificial rain and the mood would be entirely set.::
Zuccaro: Come on now, old man, easy does it. ::He looked to Bear, and gently slapped the side of his cheek.:: Dig deep, find that Ranger spirit.
::Brushing him off, Bear cleared his throat, exhaling as his stomach caught up with the Argo instead of trailing a mile behind. Blinking back the watery sensation from the corners of his eyes, sniffing, and definitely not in the throes of crying, he looked at the building with all the reassurance of someone about to lie down on a bed of nails.::
O. Marshall: In there? Are you having a laugh… ::His voice dropped lower.:: This one's as subtle as a brick through a glass window and half of them will know my face. I turn up with a Romulan in tow…
Zuccaro: And here's me thinking that was the point. ::Eyebrow arching, he looked into the back.:: You're subtle, right?
Sienelis: It's been known to happen.
Zuccaro: See? What're you worrying about? ::From inside his coat, he brought out a thin piece of metal and spoke into it.:: =/\= I've got a big spoon and a little spoon for the cutlery drawer. ::Hazarding a glance back to Valesha, he chuckled.:: Though, one is more like a steak knife. =/\=
::If looks could kill, the cab of the buggy would have been reduced to ash right there and then, occupants included. Valesha mouthed something no upstanding Starfleet officer should say, then snorted, rolling her eyes.::
Sienelis: There will be no spooning of any kind.
::Thoroughly not impressed with the Iotian's choice of phrasing, Bear shot Valesha a look with added gravitas.::
O. Marshall: No knifing either.
Sienelis: No promises.
Zuccaro: Oh, I like her! ::Beaming in the driver's seat, the Iotian slipped the thin communicator back into his jacket.:: Let's go get you two safely in the honeymoon suite before I go clean up the mess you made back there.
TBC...
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Orson Marshall
Fugitive
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Fugitive
T238401QR0
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Oliver Zucarro
Former Barmen of the Songbird Lounge