Incognito
Charles Cadwallader
[Civilian Sector, Deep Space 6]
Exiting the back door of a well-patronized house of ill repute, Tank readjusted the belt of his suit. The duffel had been with Holly, just as he had planned, she knew him as Philip with no last name.
He had laid up the cache in case of situations just like this one, years before. Many had gone dark, others had been used up, but there were still a few that he could reach with relative certainty that they wouldn’t have been discovered and taken. His small shadowy network had been built up during his time as a mercenary and a smuggler; he’d done what needed doing to stay afloat.
Now things were different, or at least they were different enough. He was increasingly falling back on his underworld contacts to get things done that he couldn’t broadcast even on supposedly secure company channels. It had been months since Bob Martens had stormed that facility and taken Tank out of the clutches of his captors, and beyond their lucky break with Krezek, they hadn’t uncovered anything useful.
Their orders had been to rendezvous on DS6, a familiar haunt to both Bob and Tank. Martens had gotten the cushy ride, a junior staff member on a ship, while Tank had been left to throw off any trail on him. So he had himself smuggled aboard a medical transport bound for half a dozen locations, he’d left false trails at each location and another half a dozen false positives along the way.
As far as he could make it, no one knew he had arrived. Even the smugglers who got him aboard the ship didn’t know what the cargo was, and they had been paid in hard currency.
A small personal phaser was tucked in the pocket of Tank’s pants. There was a modified sidearm in the duffel as well, but he couldn’t exactly walk around strapped when posing as a civilian.
It was surprisingly easy to get out of a secure sector on a starbase, much easier than getting into one. To do the latter Tank would need some documents, and he thought he knew right where to go.
Caprice was a lowlife, not like the anti-heroes or even villains you saw in Holo-novels and the like, he was real scum; if he’d worked a day in his life he’d probably be dead already. Tank had taken note of the punk some years back as a possible patsy for when things ever got too hot. Apparently Cappy had gone and gotten himself noticed by some player because he was now the doorman to a place Tank wanted to be.
Not bothering to stop or even acknowledge the ingrate Tank moved through the door into a dimly lit dance parlor and bar. It was sparsely populated, being quite early in the day, but there were still plenty of scantily clad women dancing for patrons.
Letting his eyes adjust to the light level Tank ordered a drink and paid the pretty bartender. As he sipped his tepid beverage his eyes found just the man he wanted to see. Kerlov was a genius, he’d worked with every resistance group this side of the Milky Way and he had a way of making sure he survived even those failed insurrections.
He was constantly watched by Starfleet authorities but he had helped enough times as well to get a little privacy when he needed it.
Tank approached the man, flanked by two stunning beauties dancing to either side of him, each in pale diaphanous silk dresses that were at once see through and cling fitting. Twin sisters, known as the sirens, Bella and Ladonna, their beauty only second to their deadly instincts and quick hands. They were prized commodities both by authorities and criminal alike, but Kerlov had his dispensations.
The well dressed gentleman enjoying the dancing of the two sisters waved them aside as a translucent barrier formed around the alcove the four were in. The sisters kept dancing but their eyes swept from Tank back out to the general light crowd of the establishment.
Tank knew all too well that now things were private, and he could easily be disposed of at this juncture and no one would ask any questions. But he also knew that Kerlov wasn’t a fool, and that he was aware that Tank was somebody he’d want to deal with. They’d had business before.
“It is an interesting thing to see you my good friend, after so many years,” Kerlov said in his deep, heavily accented voice, “What is it that I can be helping you with?”
Slowly setting down the small file case he had been carrying in addition to his duffel, Tank gently toed it under the table to the gentleman. “A full identity with papers and records, the best you have.”
Disdaining noticing what was obviously payment at his feet, Kerlov remained motionless, “And why should I be helping one such as you? You have been missing from these parts for some time, in fact I have been hearing that you have been missing from all those who have been making your acquaintance. Some are suspecting that you are being Security. But Kerlov is knowing better, if you were we would have been hearing about it sooner I think. So what is it that has been keeping you away my good friend?”
His cover story had been solid, it was always how he operated, but it was true in the last few years he’d lost touch with a lot of his contacts as he didn’t have use for them at the time. It was normal for them to get a little suspicious. “You do know me better than anyone, Kerlov. I was trying to retire with that girl you met, remember.”
“So what has brought you out of retirement?”
“A big job,” Tank said, “That’s all I can say right now, but I’m sure you’ll find out about it from everyone soon enough.” Tank made a mental note to start something he could take credit for that would cover him coming out of retirement.
“Well then my good friend,” Kerlov said with a smile, “It is a pleasure to once again be doing business with you. You shall have what you need, and quickly too. Be coming back tomorrow and I will see to it. You should be watching out for security Jones, they have been watching me as always, but here let me lend you the sirens, they will take you out of this place and see you on your way. No one will question you leaving with my girls, or why you approached me, a healthy man like yourself, it will be being obvious, no?”
Tank stood and took the proffered hand of his old contact who knew him as Jones Millroy, “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then.” He said as he moved towards the alcove door, soon flanked by the sisters, one on each arm adoringly.
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Charles E. L. Cadwallader
"Aut viam inveniam aut faciam" - "I will either find a way or make one"