The Bajoran cargo carrier slowly settled to the ground at the tiny space port out side Wells City. As with most cargo ships, some berths are available for the traveler not put off by the Spartan accommodations. Mr. Salomon wasn’t inconvienced at all and the crew waived him off as the off loaders came up the gaping bay doors to unload.
Hailing a taxi Mr. Saloman made his way to a non-descript hotel in the center of town and checked in for the night. In the morning, after assuring himself that no one had taken any thing more than a casual notice of his stay, he found and rented a hover car for the day and made his way to Omega Prime. He berthed the craft on a side street and walked the rest of the way up Phoenix Boulevard and stopped in front of RICKS.
He shook his head in disbelief at the audacity of the façade and pushed open the great brass doors, entering into the small lobby. Standing on the balcony overlooking the forward lounge he didn’t see the person he was looking for. XON watched the Bajoran as he came down the steps and got the question he had anticipated.
XON pointed to the back, instructing Mr. Saloman to go into the Blue Room and Mr. Dinn could be found at his private table. As the stranger started for the back XON buzzed Marcus’s table to alert him a visitor was on the way.
Marcus looked up, turning off his data padd as Mr. Saloman stood at his table.
“May I help you?” Marcus asked, the tone of his voice clearly showing the aggravation at being interrupted.
“May I sit?”
Marcus held out his hand, pointing at a chair and Saloman pulled it up to the table. “May I have a drink?”
Tilting his head, Marcus slowly responded. “No. Not until I know what business you have with me?”
“You’ve been a bad boy Mr. Dinn. I’ve been sent to check on you and remind you of your agreements.”
“You still have not introduced yourself.”
“Today, today I’m Mr. Saloman.”
“And tomorrow?”
He shrugged. “Like you, I’ve had many names. Many personalities.”
Marcus aggravation was increasing. ‘Come to the point Mr. Saloman, or I’ll have to ask that you leave.”
“Three days ago Romualan Commander Surul came to an untimely death.”
“As did five of his sub-commanders.” Marcus now leaned back, knowing where this was going. “Lucky break for Commander T’Ros.” Shaking his head. ‘Goes to show how important proper maintinence of power systems can be.”
Saloman leaned in closer. “Ok Marcus, we’re going to cut the bull shit. Star Fleet has it’s suspicions about the last few days.”
“Well, If you think I’m involved, check my ships logs. You’ll see I was half way across the continent at the time of the accident.”
“I have a team doing that as we speak. And if we find you were anywhere near Vorta’Rome three days ago…”
Marcus snapped a hand to Salomans throat, his fingers digging into the veins supplying oxygen to his brain. “Let me make something clear to you….. Soloman. You report back to Star Fleet that I’m doing just as agreed, running a quiet little bar. And if you or anyone like you shows up again, there are a number Fleet Admirals that are going to have a lot of explaining to do to the press. There aren’t enough laundries in the galaxy to clean up the messes I know of. ” He let the man go and fell back into his seat, stars spinning in front of his eyes. “And I don’t need to remind them what would happen if some kind of accident should befall me.”
Mr. Saloman stood up, knocking the chair to the floor behind him. Without another word he left the room. Minutes later XON came and looked around the corner.
“Everything ok?”
“Fine XON, just family troubles, you know how families can be.”
He nodded and went back to the bar wondering about the stranger that nearly ran from the lounge.
Later that day Mr. Saloman reboarded the same Cargo carrier and left Omega Prime behind. He was sure of one thing, the next messenger was going to be someone else.
Off:
Marcus Dinn
Owner of RICKS
