Cardiff " Can I Pour Me a Drink "
Dusty Trails
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Bradley Cardiff
Platform Administrative Authority
Skoleryn Trade Outpost
Location: Platform B (The Brink)
“ Can I Pour Me a Drink ”
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The man grinned his offensive grin. He'd done that several times since Brad's secretary had brought him, his 0945 appointment, into his office. This greenish brown man with his ridges and his lobes and with not a single thing about his demeanor that wasn't offensive sat across from. You're Hojobin right? Cardiff had asked as the man extended his foul hand to be shook by Bradley but being so absorbed by the bitter sweet liquid in his own coffee cup the gesture had gone unnoticed.
“How many cases of Romulan Ale did you say you had on board. Your vessel Mr... Nirik was it? The Skolyern Trade Commission requires a manual inspection of your cargo and of course you'll need to pay the taxes on the cargo above and beyond the allowed nontaxable limits which,” Cardiff paused a moment to review the information displayed on his PADD.
“According to volume it would be... 20% of your current manifest”
Nirik smiled a grim toothy smile that made Cardiff's stomach turn. Was that a grub stuck between his jagged teeth? “By all means Inspector sir. It would be my pleasure to give you a tour of my ships hold.” Clasping his green scaley hands together smugly. Cardiff couldn't help but notice each sharp brown ragged finger nail stabbing out from each of his 7 long fingers. Each inch of the man looked slimy and oily from his brow ridges right down to the prickly hair on his knuckles.
“I've traveled many parsecs to be here Captain and your reputation precedes you,” Nirik reached into his jacket pocket and procured his flask, “I would be honoured if you would do me the pleasure of pouring you a drink of this finest Centaurian Whiskey.”
Needing not even a second to ponder the query with his hand firmly grasped on his cup Bradley's hand jutted forward in anticipation. “Perhaps just a splash.” Bradley smiled at the man with a new fondness and before long a splash had turned into tails of travel and adventure and of drunken tomfoolery. Anyone with a splash of cheer to spare could beckon an alcoholic from the darkest corner to appear.
-= -=/ /////// Around Two Hours Later.... (who's keeping track anyway) on Nirk's Vessel \\\\\\\ \ \=- =-
Cardiff stumbled over the lipped entrance to the cargo hold aboard Nirik's vessel into a room filed with Cases embossed with the Romulan Emblem. Doing a rough sloppy count by hand he tried to keep track of how many cases he saw but the growing intoxication was blurring his vision. Things were beginning to sway from side to side. Knowing that it probably wasn't the ships inertial dampeners Brad stumbled to the left and grabbed for a bulk-head and missed mashing a console with the palm of his hand. Upon doing so, the wall beside him dematerialized revealing a much larger inner chamber to the cargo hold. Peering inside he discovered rows of beds containing people hooked up to machines. Trying to discern what he was seeing he started to turn back to face Nirik but was only able to squeeze out a muffled grunt as the he felt a seering pain in his skull and everything went black.
Brad woke to find himself intensely short of breath and his head throbbing. Completely immersed in darkness he struggled for a moment moving sharply inside his confines. After a moment he collected his bearings and studied his surrounding more closely with his hands. He was inside some sort of containment device or storage locker and feeling beneath himself his fingers touched cold hard steel. Feeling to the edge of the of the steel his revelation astonished even himself. He was laying on a slab. A cold hard steel slab. This inherent understand left him rattled: he had found himself trapped inside a morgue.
Seeing no sense in taking to desperation he slid his had up to his chest to access his communicator which of course had been removed. Realizing the futility of his situation he banged heavily with his feet on the hatch but it wouldn't budge.
“HELP!” he Brad called loudly, “HELP!” he screamed several more times.
Outside the containment unit Nirik stood aghast at what he had just done. A missing employee of the Platform Authority would draw attention and very quickly. He had to transfer is cargo immediately and with as little complication as possible. He would have to figure out what to do with his new captor later. Checking his chronometer he took note that his rendezvous with the purchaser of his cargo would be expecting him on board the platform shortly. Making haste he exited the ships morgue and proceeded to the airlock once again.
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