MSNPC The Driver - Eyes and Ears

[Michael Meir-Wright]

((Federation Mine - Væron))

The magrail carriage came to a stop and the driver got out, not without some effort on account of his unfortunately expanding waistline. Half a cycle on the god forsaken ball of benamite and he had put on several stones. There was little else to do but mine and eat. He tried to bring his anxiety-riddled heartbeat under control, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth as he bustled towards the lift that would take him to the surface.

oO I don’t have a lot of time. Oo

He was not due to report for his first shift in the mine for another twenty standard minutes- but it would take that long for him to get to his cabin and do what he needed to do there. He would have broken out in to a run but that would look suspicion. And the fact was that if he did, it would likely lead to a myocardial infarction.

oO I have to stop going back to the mess for seconds. Oo it wasn’t the first time that he had thought that. oO Or thirds. Oo

He reached the lift which was empty and waiting for him, thank the prophets. He secured the bolt and then pressed the button with his increasingly pudgy hand. It shook violently and began its assent. It wasn’t going quick enough for his liking.

oO C’mon, c’mon! Oo he implored the clapped out old lift, which had been brought from Capella IV. It likely hadn’t had a maintenance check in at least half a decade.

Finally, the lift reached the surface and picking up his pace, the driver hurried towards his cabin and ignored the fact that his breath became more and more ragged with each step. Finally, he reached his door which he threw open.

He crossed the small cabin which was sparsely decorated- a lonely single bed, a small closet for the minuscule amount of clothes he owned, a table with a communications interface, a wooden chair and a box room that housed a sonic shower, toilet and sink. He had fallen a long way from his family’s homestead in the Kendra Province of Bajor.

He sat down at the desk, pulled the communications interface closer towards him. With his other hands, he reached underneath the table, fumbling for the compartment on its underside. After a moment, he pulled out a small yellow optical disk and slotted it onto an access port on the interface. It activated immediately- a string of text that he did not understand scrolling across his screen.

Several long seconds passed before the visage of a Romulan woman with curly hair appeared on the screen. One immaculately groomed eyebrow arched upwards. The driver could not make out her location- which was likely her attention- and neither did he know her name. Once again, he knew that to be intentional.

Romulan: You are not scheduled to make a report today.

Her tone was laced with danger, the implication that he was taking a risk contacting her clear.

oO I know the damn risk. Oo he snapped to himself. oO I’ve always bloody known. Oo

Driver: A Federation starship has arrived in orbit.

Romulan: I am aware of that. ::how her tone shifted from dangerous to unimpressed.:: Do you honestly believe I was not already-

Driver: No, you don’t understand! ::he said, unable to keep the anxiety he felt from causing his voice to heighten in its pitch. He was sure he was going to get caught.:: They’ve beamed down three officers into the mine- well maybe more- but the three I took on the magrail were investigating the lower shafts. They know about the dead zone!

The Romulan looked away from the screen for a brief moment. The driver wagered that she hadn’t been informed of that. While Starfleet didn’t keep their ship deployments classified, she wouldn’t have known the assignments of individual crewmembers without having spies onboard. While he didn’t doubt the woman was capable of placing operatives aboard Federation ships- clearly she did not seem fit to do so.

Romulan: I see. ::she said after a protracted period of silence.:: This is not altogether unexpected, though I confess I was not expecting them to act so quickly. ::she looked away once again.::

When she did not speak again, the Driver filled in the silence.

Driver: Do you need me to do anything?

Romulan: Not at this time. But stay vigilant and report anything else you see. Thank you for your report.

The Romulan ended the transmission abruptly, leaving the Driver in near total silence, only the sound of his greedy breathing sucking air into his burning lungs penetrating it.

As he sat there and composed himself, he could only guess at the fate that would befall the three officers he had taken on the magrail. But he knew one thing for certain.

It would not be a pleasant fate.

—

Driver / Romulan Informant

Federation Mining Team

simmed by:

Lieutenant Arlo Thornton

Assistant Chief Science Officer

USS Gorkon

ID: C239203TW0