Ensign Alok Munshi - The Bigger the Smile, the Sharper the Knife
Alok Munshi
(( Orion Mining Rig - Temurian Outpost ))
Sol had let S’zurak take the first steps out into the interior of the mining rig. Alok remained just behind the Gorn’s massive frame, his eyes scanning the corridor. The air here was thin, metallic, and carried the faint, ozone-tinged scent of overworked machinery. He kept his posture relaxed, his hands tucked into the deep pockets of his utility vest, though his fingers were inches away from the small sensor-jamming pulse device he’d rigged up. He needed to play the part of a simple, curious deckhand—an observer who was just here to follow orders and maybe secure a decent trade contract.
S’zurak: ::smiling broadly, sure to show all his teeth:: Hello there. I wasss told this would improve firssst impressions.
Sol grinned. She was sure it had.
Khorra: You have no business here.
Munshi: ::Tilting his head in a show of casual, merchant-like curiosity, letting his gaze wander over the exposed cabling above:: Easy now, friend. We’re just looking to secure some transport contracts. We heard the pickings were good in this cluster and thought we’d see if there was any room for another freighter to handle the overflow.
S’zurak: Hm. It usually worksss better on people who are not armed.
Khorra: Whatever it is you're looking for, you won't find it on here.
Sol chose that moment to step around from behind S’zurak. Her hand rested on the holster of the Romulan disruptor at her waist, a gesture that was half-casual, half-warning.
McLaren: Now how could you possibly know what we are looking for?
Her eyes scanned the area. Several Temurians were clustered near the entrance deeper into the mining rig, clearly curious about what was going on. The Nausicaan and her crew were between them and all looked rather cautious, though ready for anything.
Munshi: ::Sighing softly, affecting the tone of a man tired of bureaucracy:: My associate is just trying to be thorough. We’ve had a long drift through the debris field and we’re short on patience. We’re just looking for an honest trade, not a reason to start a skirmish.
S’zurak: I take it visitorsss are uncommon out here.
Khorra: Visitors do NOT just come and go like this. You are trespassing.
McLaren: Well... now that just isn't hospitable at all...
Munshi: ::Giving a small, placating shrug:: Perhaps we took a wrong vector in the fog. We’re not looking to cause any trouble—just some minerals, maybe some spare parts if you have them. We’re Lurtz Enterprises, not the tax office.
Khorra: This is private property. I advise you to step back into your shuttle and leave.
Oh, that wasn't the tone of a person who was asking. Sol shook her head slightly.
McLaren: Now see... if we hadn't been shot at on our way here... I'd be much more inclined to depart peacefully...
Alok subtly checked the PADD hidden in his vest pocket. The interference here was thick, but he could feel the faint, rhythmic pulse of the station’s systems. If this was just a mine, they were running it at a remarkably high output.
S’zurak: Response(s)?
Munshi: We’re just trying to balance our books, friend. There’s no need to make this complicated.
McLaren: Instead Im much more inclined to ask just what youre doing out here... thats so secretive that your friends out there tried to atomize us... and that youre so ready to draw down over.
Khorra/S’zurak: Response(s)?
Munshi: ::Stepping slightly to the side to get a better angle on the deeper hangar deck:: Look, we have the credits to pay a premium for a peaceful departure. Why settle for a firefight when you can settle for a full cargo bay and no dead bodies?
McLaren: I'm sure neither of us wishes to fight... perhaps theres a more amenable solution we can arrive at? One that benefits both of us?
Khorra: Response(s)?
Munshi: ::Softly, barely a whisper over the private channel to McLaren and S’zurak:: The Temurians behind her aren't armed. They look terrified. Whatever she's talking about, she's holding those workers hostage to meet it. If we push, we might get them killed. We need a distraction.
S’zurak: Response(s)?
McLaren: This is a mine correct? Surely you have raw materials just waiting to be sold and might like to make some extra latinum to subsidize your business here?
Khorra/S’zurak: Response(s)?
Munshi: ::Maintaining his focus on the corridor, his heart rate steadying as he prepared to engage:: If we can just move past the posturing, we could make this very profitable for everyone involved. What do you say, Khorra? A clean trade, no blood, no incidents?
Khorra: Response(s)?
Alok felt the micro-vibrations of the rig beneath his boots spike—a distinct rhythm that his engineering instincts flagged immediately. It wasn't just industrial noise; it was a rhythmic, pulsing overload. He leaned slightly toward S’zurak, his voice a low, modulated murmur on the team’s private encrypted channel.
Munshi: ::Subtly adjusting his sleeve to reveal a sliver of his PADD interface:: Sol, if you look at the pressure vents to her left, the thermal exchange is spiking. They’re running a bypass on the main grid to keep those singularities from rupturing the entire asteroid. If I trigger a surge in that cooling array, the local pressure will drop, and the containment field will force an emergency shutdown. It’ll give us the distraction we need, but we’ll have about ten seconds of total chaos before the failsafes kick in.
S’zurak/Khorra/McLaren: Response(s)?
Munshi: ::Glancing at the PADD, then up at the dimly lit hangar ceiling where the primary vent controls were located, whispering to Sol:: I’m locking onto the primary cooling intake. The architecture of this rig is brittle; if I force the vent to open, the pressure differential will suck the oxygen right out of the room. It’ll stop them dead, but it won't be pretty.
McLaren/S’zurak/Khorra: Response(s)?
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Ensign
Alok Munshi
Engineering Officer
StarBase 118 Ops
A240204AM1