[SE] LtCmdr Sky Blake, "A little place called 'home'."

[Deliera Jay]

((Cakapunnual))

::She sighed, downing another drink and thumping the glass onto the counter.::

Blake: Hit me again.

::The bartender - a strange position to fill for a small settlement of about thirty or so people, the fact that they were wasting resources on an alcoholic establishment being a mind-numbingly strange thing on its own - awarded her words with an intriguing frown.::

Bartender: Third one in fifteen minutes. ::He noted.:: New record for the settlement.

Blake: Not saying much.

::The tall, dark and handsome bartender shrugged, re-positioning the containers of various liquids and such before pulling out a new bottle for her, pouring half a glass. Evidently, if he'd been a few inches shorter and clean shaven, the resemblance to her last fling would have been uncanny. Of course, that would have also required a red Starfleet uniform, a change of ethnicity, a lower tone of voice and an emotional compass that span in all the right directions.

::The main obvious, physical difference between the two being that it'd be a crime to shave this bartender.::

::It was strange to note that his dark eyes felt a bit weighted as she took a mouthful of whatever it was she'd decided to drink up to that point.::

Blake: You're new here.

Bartender: Came a couple days ago.

Blake: What's your name?

Bartender: Owen. Caden Owen. You?

Blake: Blake.

Owen: Just Blake?

Blake: Lieutenant Commander Blake.

Owen: Ah - you must be the Starfleet officer I've heard so much about.

::Great. He'd heard about her.::

Blake: And what exactly would be the tales around here?

Owen: Mainly about how you're a pain in the arse for a few marshals - nothing serious.

Blake: I pulled rank on Tydo *one time*.

Owen: Took the piss out of an Edira City sheriff too, so I hear.

Blake: Nothing Ranjoes doesn't already deserve. Besides, I doubt she's ever had someone call out her department's imperfections point-blank before. For all we know, her hair product has a mind of it's own and protects her department from any and all would-be complainers by suffocating them when their backs are turned. That'd explain all of her glowing reviews and references, at least.

::He chuckled, wiping down the dry and already clean bar, having rarely seen a spill in it's short lifespan.::

Owen: Are they the words of a sober officer or a tipsy lass?

::Sky clasped her hands together on the bar, leaning forward, closer to the bartender.::

Blake: Is there an option in the middle?

Cormac: Blake.

::With a sigh, Sky turned from the bartender she'd enjoyed getting acquainted with and faced her old partner - a new Marshal, evidently the first person she'd ever annoyed for a multitude of other reasons.::

Blake: I'm off the clock. If this is about the Pine case-

Cormac: Shei'saur said she couldn't reach you.

Blake: You've met the Edge's Intelligence officer, have you? ::She took a sip of her drink.::

Cormac: Yeah, she's a real peach. Where's your combadge?

Blake: Locked in my bedside table. I told you, I'm off the clock.

Cormac: And you're drinking again.

Blake: I've only had three.

Owen: That's four.

Blake: Four. I've only had four.

Owen: Don't worry, the last two have been watered down.

::She frowned at the bartender.::

Blake: Why does everyone think I'm an alcoholic?

Cormac: Shei'saur caught wind that two of your suspects just left Edge space. Including one that matched the description your 'pirate captain' gave.

::Blake put her glass down, leaning back against the bar. This was not good news. Not only were they organized, but in the last two days, she'd uncovered that Pine's attackers were targeting smaller pirate groups. Threaten the opposition to join in or get out of the way - not great career moves for the likes of Rhys Pine, would-be moral-high-ground pirate captain who'd lost the lives of his crew less then a week ago, and was currently housed in her container of a house. Shadow's Teeth weren't affiliated with Jilor - not specifically, and not that Pine was aware of at least (which honestly might not account for much given that his role in their little organization was relegated to smuggling), but the idea that Pine had refused recruitment and cooperation meant that the attack had motive. He wasn't with his fleet - he was fair game.

::Whether or not Shadow's Teeth saw this reason enough to retaliate was a different story. Pine was small-fry - if they lost him, they could replace him and his crew with the next lot of people.::

Blake: Great. ::She pinched the bridge of her nose.:: So I've lost my best suspects.

::Her links to this conspiracy had flown the coop.::

Cormac: So bring in some bigger players.

Blake: What good is *that* supposed to do? I'm chasing small fry. This isn't even technically my case I'm working - this is Ranjoe's leftovers she didn't want to deal with.

Cormac: Starfleet has the resources to look for them. The minute they pass a check point, the Marshals can let them know.

Blake: No, I can't keep running to Zhou every time I'm stuck in a corner.

::Cormac frowned, hands on his hips.::

Cormac: Who said anything about Zhou? I'm talking about Rahman.

::Ah. Veritas.

::If she returned to the mother ship, she could keep an eye on further developments while Cormac dealt with whatever happened here in Edge space. With Core dealing with the subspace communications blow out, it'd be easier to keep in contact and up to date.::

::She had left in a bit of a hurry, though. Which she thought was fair - everyone else stopped to breathe for a moment after Carrero's death, whilst Sky kept chugging on. It hadn't been healthy. The break in Cakapunnual had been relieving somewhat, aside from the saving people before they pushed her off cliffs, Marshals being dicks and Starfleet being generally late for everything.::

Blake: It's not . . . ::She sighed, picking up her glass again, taking another swig.::

Cormac: It's not *what*?

Blake: It's not home.

::Brandon scoffed, shaking his head as he lent against the bar.::

Cormac: Look, I get that you don't have the luxury of remembering what it was like before you were a lieutenant commander, but transfers are part of the career. You don't like it, now is the time to throw in your hat. Otherwise, put the adult pants on, and go *home*, Blake.

::She gave him a side-long glance before throwing her eyes back up at the tall, dark and handsome bartender, who was pretending that he wasn't overhearing every word of their conversation and that drying the already-dry mug was definitely as intriguing as it looked.::

Blake: Fine. But there's a few things that need to be taken care of first.

Cormac:::rolling his eyes.:: I'm gonna regret asking this, but what do you need to take care of?

Blake: There's a pirate fugitive currently sleeping in my bed.

::Cormac groaned.::

Blake: He's vital to this. ::She continued, ignoring distaste.:: Marshals get their hands on him and that's it. I lose evidence.

Cormac: And if *I* get my hands on him?

Blake: Then you and Shrmoa have to look after him.

Cormac: Fine. Anything else?

::She stared at the bartender, almost predatory as she finished her drink, the human male with a chiselled chin and deep dark eyes, leaning casually own his bar pouring her another.::

Cormac: Is this a bad time to mention that Zhou checked in?

::Her shoulders fell. With an irritated look to her old partner, she stood and span the tumbler over to him, Owen giving a look of amusement as she started walking away. It was time to pack a bag.::

Blake: You're a terrible wingman.

Tbc . . .

LtCmdr Sky Blake

Ranger

USS Veritas.