JP - Lt. Ikaia Wong & Arthur Summerside: Tip of the Iceberg (Part 3)
kabanning
((Terminal C - Docks))
Ikaia walked through the docks with Summerside in tow. He was looking over his PADD as he was doing so. He was cross referencing lists as he was walking.
Arthur followed Wong as the CMO fiddled with his PADD. He stayed a few feet behind, taking in the sights and sounds. The docks were always busy, even when there were no ships around. It was a big job, sorting through the vast array of cargo that was brought to the station. oO I suppose replicators can’t do everything! Oo
Wong: By the looks of things, the only common ingredient between what everyone ate and these manifests is iceberg lettuce. But only three suppliers carry it. One of them is, strangely, Klingon.
Summerside: Is that strange? I wouldn’t know… but at least that’ll be convenient. You can chat with your kinsmen in Klingon..ese? if we need to speak with any of their crew. Might make things easier.
Wong: ::Looking up from his PADD:: Huh? I don't really speak it. I grew up on the Hawaiian islands. That's as far away from Qo'nos as you can get. Now if they spoke fluent Hawaiian, that I can work with.
Summerside: ::Scowling:: Hmm… Inconvenient then. ::Thinking:: In that case, maybe let me talk to them. We don’t want to inadvertently offend them or anything. I take it the ‘traditional’ Klingon can be a bit touchy.
Ikaia grimaced a little. He remembered his time in the Klingon marketplace. Touchy was certainly a thing that could describe them. He was nearly scalped for a minor infraction! And then there was that KDF bar that he, Ukinix and some fresh ensigns had decided to visit. He wondered if Arthur really knew what he was doing.
Wong: Klingon culture is quite honour bound as a whole regardless of their status of a warrior. Perhaps being cautious about that when dealing with them should be factored in.
Summerside: ::Dismissing Ikaia’s concern:: Don’t worry about it. I’ve talked to plenty of ‘tough customers’ before. ::Pointing ahead:: Now, two of those suppliers are still moored here, including your Klingon pals. We can chat with the dock workers who’ve scanned the incoming products, but if we can find a way to win over the crews themselves, we might have better luck getting straight to the source. What’s your call, Starfleet?
Wong: We talk to them. They may be our culprit or they may know who is. I get the impression here that starting off a little more casual may help our cause rather than being accusatory.
Summerside: Sounds reasonable enough… Ready when you are, kid.
Wong: Okay. We'll start with the Klingons. Hopefully, they won’t give us too much trouble. We may be able to exploit their honour if things get really bad.
Summerside nodded, a subtle smirk sticking to his lips like Lorraine’s stubborn lipstick. Taking advantage of a warrior race’s honour in order to save lives? He felt like a real hero.
Summerside: Right. Might as well start off with the highest peak and work our way down.
Arthur took the lead, walking casually towards the Klingon freighter crew with his hands in his pockets. Ikaia took a deep breath and started walking.He approached a docked Raptor class ship.
The Klingons appeared to be waiting for something. A couple stood about, observing the ongoing work in the docks, another small group sat around a crate playing some sort of game that Arthur was unfamiliar with. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem like a very friendly game – he made a mental note to learn all about it on his free time. Rather than interrupt the players, he strode confidently over to one of the two overlooking the work in the hangar.
Summerside: ‘Scuse me, sir.
The Klingon turned slowly, an unpleasant look on his face. The expression soured further as he caught sight of Ikaia Wong. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur noticed whatever game had been in progress had paused as the others turned to see what was going on.
Ikaia caught that glare from the other Klingon. That blond hair of his got him in trouble more often than he liked. He was just waiting for the shouting and pointing.
Duwung: What do you want?
Arthur did his best to smile and draw the Klingon’s attention from Wong.
Summerside: Arthur Summerside, at your service. ::He offered a hand, but retracted it when the Klingon simply stared at it with disdain:: My friend here and I are entrepreneurs interested in the restaurant business here on Amity Outpost.
The best lies held a kernel of truth. Arthur had heard about Wong’s investment in Papa Rahm’s through the Talaxian grapevine. It didn’t seem too far a stretch to call him an ‘entrepreneur.’
Summerside: I’ve heard it can be hard to find a trustworthy distributor – however, after speaking with a few of my friends in the business – I’ve heard you come highly recommended.
Duwung: Nobody dares to challenge the integrity of our merchandise!
Summerside: That’s what I hear. But what sort of goods do you transport? Meats, grains, produce? I’ve got some specific needs, you see, including a lot of perishable goods. How do you transport goods like, oh, I don’t know… Iceberg lettuce?
Duwung: We do not waste our time discussing such details. You order something and Duwung, son of Muqoq, and his loyal crew will see it delivered unadulterated… This is dangerous space, Human. Lots of pirates… ::looking at Summerside and Wong with a suspicious squint:: …and thieves.
Arthur felt himself getting a little irked at the Klingon’s manner. oO I thought these guys were supposed to be honourable, not @#&holes. Oo He glanced back at Ikaia, wondering if the CMO’s face would give anything away regarding how he was doing.
Ikaia was far from a thief. He narrowed his eyes slightly. These were Klingons and he was going to have to respond accordingly. He was about to say something when Summerside kept talking. He could sense that this was BAD.
Wong: Caution, Mister Summerside.
Summerside: ::Turning back to Duwung:: Right. Well, you do seem quite formidable. But the journey is also rather long… Tell me, have you ever had any issues with product spoiling on your vessel?
That question was evidently provocation enough. Duwung’s nostrils flared and several of the players from the crate game stood and moved closer to Arthur.
Wong: Mister Arthur Summerside. Enough.
It was a warning. But perhaps a little warning too late. He moved closer to the reporter.
Duwung: ::Eyes wide:: You dare to insult the integrity of our products?!
Arthur grimaced. oO Right… You did say not to do that, didn’t you… Oo
Summerside: Well, I… Now, gentlemen-
Duwung: ::Incensed:: WE… ARE NOT… “GENTLE” MEN!!!
Before he knew what had hit him, Arthur found himself falling backwards towards Wong. Evidently, his attempts at flattery had gotten him nowhere. He touched his nose and his hand came away, fingertips bloodied. oO Well that’s not good. Oo
Ikaia saw Summerside get dropped by a Klingon haymaker. This was starting to go off in a direction he did not want to go in. Ikaia did something he didn’t normally do - he raised his voice.
Wong: That is enough! All of you! This is a Federation Outpost and I will not condone assault of an unarmed human!
Ikaia was going to have to try a different tactic. He moved between Summerside and the Klingons.
Wong: I can quote more than a few laws of this Outpost about attacking one of our citizens. Do NOT make me act on one of them by further harming him. Besides…. ::Glancing at Summerside for a quick moment:: Isn’t it dishonourable to attack an unarmed, defenseless opponent?
Duwung: ::Looking at Arthur lying on his back:: Are you going to keep lying there like a coward, human, or will you stand and face the consequences of your words?
oO I’ve had about enough of that lately. Oo
Arthur, touching his split lip, for once opted to hold his tongue. He wasn’t about to correct Wong about the particulars of his citizenship and, given the circumstances, perhaps being identified as ‘defenseless’ wasn’t such a bad thing.
Summerside: Boy… ::Sarcastically:: Tough choice…
Duwung: ::To Summerside:: Ha! Perhaps you need another taste of Duwung’s fist, then, to clarify things for you? HoS lI' Dalo'Ha'chu'!
The other Klingons laughed at their commanding officer’s jest. Duwung turned his attention from the weakling cowering at his boots to the blonde Klingon before him in Starfleet attire.
Duwung: ::To Wong:: And what’s your interest in the matter, Drell Mongrel? I will not suffer insult from the likes of you.
Wong: Call me what you wish. But I have no insults. In fact, I’m searching for some cargo that should have made its way to this Outpost. A shipment of iceberg lettuce.
And he was going to have to treat Summerside's injuries when he had a spare moment. Right now, it was about avoiding getting them both sent to his own Medical Centre. It was about survival.
Duwung: ::Smiling wickedly:: All it took was a single punch to break through your little facade. ::To his crew:: The son of Muqoq is not easily deceived! ::Back to Wong with an aggressive shrug:: Nothing to see here. We offloaded our cargo yesterday. Now we are stuck here waiting for clearance to leave. Some Ghay'cha' about ‘stellar winds’...
Summerside: ::Rubbing his jaw:: Remind me to file a formal complaint on your behalf.
Wong: I can look into the clearance issue for you, Duwung, if you wish. Although, how may we contact you again in regards to your merchandise?
Duwung: You want to place an order, contact our ::nearly shuddering at the term:: intermediary, Amuc Iko on subspace. He handles the shuVak paperwork. You want to look aboard our ship, you come back with a warrant.
At least he now had a name.
oODon't say "thank you." Traditional Klingons have no words for it.Oo
Wong: Alright. That works for me.
And he was fighting himself. Inwardly, he wanted to be polite. Say thank you. Be how he was raised to be. But he was put into a situation where he couldn't be that. It felt so strange to him. Ill fitting.
Duwung: Now, get out of my sight before I kill your pathetic human friend.
Arthur was in the midst of pulling himself up to standing once more with a hand on a nearby crate. Again, the Klingon crew laughed and jeered at him as he struggled to his feet.
Ikaia moved to Summerside's side ready to help him if he needed it. Despite his dizziness, Arthur held out a hand to refuse Wong’s assistance. He got the impression that Klingons might be like circling sharks. A hint of ‘blood in the water’ might start a frenzy.
Summerside: ::To Duwung:: No guarantees you haven’t already…
Wong: Come on. Let's move on.
As the investigatory duo took their leave, Arthur walking shakily ahead of Wong, the reporter did everything he could to repress the desire to turn around and go back at Duwung, throwing fists. He inferred from the limited interaction that Klingons were not just ‘honourable’ warrior types… Their egos were more fragile than his nose… But he did have one last thing to say.
Summerside: ::Turning back:: You know, Duwung - if you ever decide to retire from the freight business… You should consider opening a restaurant. You make one hell of a knuckle sandwich.
At first, the Klingon glared with wide eyes but, as the meaning of Arthur’s words dawned on him, Duwung began chuckling. Then he laughed, boisterously. His crew, taking their cue, began to laugh as well - but they were quickly cut off by a menacing look from their commander.
Duwung: ::To his crew:: Silence, fools!
Wong: Er let's move on, shall we?
Continued in Part 4 / 8…
Lieutenant Ikaia Wong PA-C
Chief Medical Officer
Amity Outpost
V239711IW0
Arthur Summerside
Civilian Journalist,
Amity Outpost
V239806K11