Deck 5
Posted on Sat Jan 25th, 2025 @ 5:24pm by Lieutenant Zharra Neerassi & Master Warrant Officer Trenton Mayhew
3,913 words; about a 20 minute read
Mission:
S1E6: Where Skies End
Location: Overwatch, Deck 5
Timeline: MD 11 - sometime after 'All Onboard'
Zharra didn't take long to settle in, having only really had her go bag with her, which in general always had the possessions she wanted to keep. Having been brought up to get up and go, and having been trained to do so by Starfleet and Federation Security, moving around a lot become a sort of home to the Driaan native.
So, now, she'd sent a message to MWO Mayhew that she was heading down to Deck 5 and headed there. She had changed her clothes, now wearing a set of simple gray cargo pants, climbing boots and a long sleeved, loose shirt. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail.
It felt weird walking through these halls again, seeing Starfleet uniforms all around her. If she didn't know the nature of this place, she'd thing she was on a regular Starbase. Again.
Except she was a civilian this time and she didn't quite know what to do with herself. Commander Frost and MWO Mayhew had said she would be in security, but they hadn't given her a specific assignment yet. That was apparently a 'tomorrow problem'.
Mayhew stepped off the turbolift and saw the new Orion loitering about in civilian clothing. Good enough. It was improper to wear a uniform where he intended to take her.
"Sorry I'm late," Mayhew offered in attempts to be more polite than on their first meeting. "You get a look at that yet?" He nodded behind her to a hole in the wall that had been converted into a watering hole. A small placard hung overhead which simply said BARCADE.
"Uh no," Zharra admitted as she looked over at the Marine, then at the Bar, "I hadn't even noticed it was there. This station configuration doesn't come with one on this level. So I'm guessing special dispensation? Or a front for another artefact this place is housing? Thought I read they were all down in the Vault?"
Mayhew arched his eyebrow. Smart girl, this one. "Technically all artifacts and relics have a designated place in Deep Storage on the planetoid below, but many of them are permitted to be on the station pending research projects. You've deduced correctly that the travesty of a watering hole in a black site facility is indeed in connection to a an artifact, but it's not as simple as that." He walked up to the door which failed to open for him. "Closed, huh? We'll see about that." Mayhew input his override authorization and the Barcade opened for him.
The scene revealed dim lights and empty chairs. For once, Mayhew looked pleased. His face cracked with a smile. "Well, it's about time," he said without looking back at Zharra. "This place is usually full of grunts doing their damnedest not to make eye contact when I come strolling through." Turning around slowly with a glint of victory sparkling in his eye, he gave Zharra a smirk. "You see, this little security risk was the result of an idiot diplomat who had Memory Theta take possession of an artifact by treaty rather than by... our standard acquisition process. As a result, a member of the planet's royal family accompanied the artifact on arrival to serve as custodian. Since she needed a reason to be here... this is what the geniuses came up with." He flung his hands out to the side, inviting Zharra to gawk at the ridiculous situation. "I've been trying to get it shut down ever since, but diplomats outrank marines. Still... seeing the lights turned down and the bar looking as clean and empty as a Vulcan's conscience... well, it does me good, Lieutenant."
Zharra chuckled, "ah that old thing. I was kind of getting used to being an SSA. I suppose that means my access and privileges are back too?" She asked then looked around the less than lively bar. "It must have been even more gaudy in its heyday. The hell happened? Artefact get nicked or did Admin finally override an shoddy treaty and lock the thing up." The Orion looked further around the place, "wait..hold on. Who was the treaty with? And what's the artefact?" She asked as she spun on her heel around to face him.
"I'm honestly not sure where the little girl who runs this place is," Mayhew said. "She might be letting somebody used the damned thing, which was a treaty stipulation with the Queen of Telino. Evidently the royal custodian princess can whip it out and let people use it from time to time." The very words made Mayhew scoff in contempt. "Just because it was a royal heirloom of Telinar, the diplomats let them demand whatever they wanted, apparently. Now we have to let this nonsense stand, and I get to lose sleep at night that the wrong personnel will let slip the wrong intel with nothing but a pinky promise from keeping the little princess from royally fucking us over."
Zharra nodded, "I've heard of those Treaties. They sidled us with one at the Federation Embassy on Qonos. You doing anything to keep this in check? Maybe a permanent bar patron or something to that effect to keep tabs on 'her' dealings? We had agents do that when we ran obbos in OrCrim at Fedsec."
"I'm doing it myself," Mayhew said, his mouth coiling in a scowl. "I'm not made of men here and I'm not about to stick a Marine behind a wet bar. Besides, she's dumb enough to keep demanding special access to other places on the station, like the training area, and I keep saying no. So far that's been enough to keep tabs on her." He gave Zharra an analytic side-eye. "If you wanted to keep tabs on her, put that experience to use, I wouldn't object. Hell, I'd back you up if needed."
Zharra nodded, "I'd have to discuss the op with the head of Sec, uh...Sergeant Kos? I'm happy to keep tabs on this place though, no problem. As for special access, hell no. Why don't we have a look at the Treaty and see if there's clauses we can find to call on to make her keep her mittens off? Surely there's something in the fineprint? This is also making me want a drink. What's she serve?"
"The Gunny runs security for the field team," Mayhew corrected. "The Colonel is the station commandant but the day to day is left to me." In answer to her question, he just shrugged. "Looks like a bit of everything behind the bar. Help yourself."
The orion slid behind the bar and ducked behind it. "Aldebaran Whiskey, Satarran Dream Dust...ooh, she's got ingredients for a Sundowner! Yess!" The woman cooed as she poked her head up, "what's your poison, Mayhew?"
It was all poison to him, at least as far as his implant site was concerned. But the fact that someone else finally saw the blaring problem that this Barcade and its proprietor presented definitely called for a drink. He smirked at her and waved his hand. "I'll have whatever you're having. Sundowner."
"Sweet as!" Zharra grinned and ducked back under, then fished out two bottles of multi coloured liquor and what looked like a bottle of lemonade. "This is Driaan V's most famous interstellar drink. The Sundowner." She said as she two a mixer cup and two glasses out as well.
"So, what's the goss about this place?" She asked as she poured ingredients in, the lemonade on the bottom, then the blue liquid, then the pink liquid. the layers holding together well.
"The bar here? Not much more to tell. Huge security breach in the making." Mayhew pulled up a barstool and admired Zharra's drink-mixing skills, and absolutely nothing else. His unblinking eyes made sure of that. "The day that dumb girl is off this station and out of my hair will be a dream come true, let me tell you."
Zharra handed him a glass, "I mean this whole place, Overwatch." She said and clinked her glass against his and took a sip. "Cheers!"
"Where do I begin?" Mayhew asked drearily. He took the clinking glass and gave it a whiff, covering his hesitation by answering her question and his own rhetorical one. "We have a commandant who is never on duty, an administrator who can't keep the place from falling to pieces, a field team leader who is more Tal Shiar than Starfleet, and a revolving door of psychos who need me to knock them down a peg." He finally took a sip and regretted it once he did. It burned in his throat around his implant, but he grunted through it. "Just last month, I had to kill a DTI agent who went rogue and thought he could wander where he didn't belong. This place is a hellhole, Neerassi, that I can tell you."
"Zharra." She said and took a long swig of her own drink and grimaced as the alcohol hit her. "Sounds just like I imagined a Black Site would be. Or Qonos' on a regular day. Or Organized Crime back at the BAU." The orion took another sip and leaned against the bar on her elbows. "Your voice box..." she indicated towards his throat. "You get that here?"
"Yeah," Mayhew affirmed. "Courtesy of one such psycho I mentioned before. What happens when he's subdued? They put the son of a bitch through rehab and reinstate his commission! Now he's on the field team where at least I don't have to look at him, but I still question the judgment of everybody who signed off on that walking mistake. Lieutenant Calderon Jarsdel is another security breach that I'd love to fix... permanently."
Zharra stared at him for a moment, her expression neutral, but her blue eyes, held pity, sorrow and shock all at once. She took another sip, paused as she bit the inside of her lip and looked down. "So that's why he went off grid for that time. We never knew what happened to him in the last few years until he resurfaced here on Theta. He's the one who got in touch with me...and likely The Brat," she said, referring to Taline. "He got us to help extract the Garlakes out."
She kept the part about investigating the disappearances of Laena Cavitts (formerly ben-Avram) and Nandi Chakma to herself as those weren't done officially. Not the way the welfare calls came through. This was off the books for some reason.
"I'm sorry my friend took your voice," Zharra added finally.
"You're friends with that lunatic?" Mayhew turned incredulous. "They say he has... some, some kind of residual Lethean neural pattern inside his brain. Sounds like a goddamned ghost story to me and I don't buy it." With that, Mayhew downed the rest of his drink. "He's skulking around here somewhere. The field team didn't bring him along, probably wise since it's some diplomatically sensitive mission. Now he's my problem and he's stayed out of my way." He slid the empty glass back over to Zharra. "Pour me another."
"I was friends with him before he disappeared on the case he worked." Zharra explained as he poured him another drink. "He was chasing a Lethean crim. After he went dark, I assumed he was dead. Until he resurfaced recently, begging for help. Letheans are fucks to deal with even when they are not the enemy. I can only imagine the size of a fuck that one was."
Mayhew growled at the burn in his throat. "Yeah, well, he ripped out my trachea with his bare teeth. They thought I was a goner. Medics brought me back but now I have this." He pointed at the tracheal implant that can him his digitized voice. "And that's kindness compared to what he did to dozens of my Marines who got shot into space in an empty torpedo casing. Asshole should've had the good graces to die so they didn't have to."
Zharra downed her drink and poured herself another. "Heh, if only the world worked that way." She said, making a mental note to go talk to Cal later. "Alright, ask the question."
"What question?" Mayhew grimaced as he finished his drink. "Shit, that hurts."
"Well, you told me about what happened to you, now it's my turn to tell you. So, ask the question." Zharra smirked and took another sip.
"You mean how you found yourself in Memory Theta?" Mayhew asked, his digitized voice cracking a little with the irritation in his throat. "Where careers come to die..."
"I asked to stay." Zharra shook her head as she took another sip. "Helping extract the Garlakes has brought the old fire back. Close protection and investigation. My dad's a cop, my mum's a lecturer. We come from a world formerly run by the Orion Syndicate. My sister and I were one of the lucky ones not to be sold into sex slavery by various uncles. Though one did try. My dad showed him the error of his way. So they reactivated my comission."
Mayhew chuckled slowly from a low rumble to a loud guffaw. "You should've stayed in retirement." He slid his glass forward. "Pour me another, lawman. If you enjoyed rescuing the Garlakes, then get ready. They need it every month or two."
"It's an honorable act, rescuing people and getting to knock a few heads in the process, shut off few hearts, spill some blood." The Orion grinned widely and then poured them each another drink. "So, why do you stay? If you see this as a career ending shitshow."
"Duty." Mayhew took another sip, though the buzz was setting in enough that he didn't shudder from it. The grimace almost looked like his usual one. "It's a Marine thing. You Fleeters wouldn't understand. ‘Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die’..." He finished the drink again, his pace picking up faster with each pour. "We do the hard thing so some other poor bastard doesn't have to. That's the long tradition of the Corps dating clear back to Earth."
"Oh no! Mmm-mMMM!" She shook her head and wagged her finger at him sideways. "Nope! We're not doing this dick measuring bullshit. I'm a vet, mate. I've done my hard battles. So I understand duty just fine. It's no different, marine duty, Fleet duty, Fed Sec duty."
Mayhew shrugged. "You asked, I answered." He threw back the rest of the drink. A woozy look overtook his face. "What made you jump around from Starfleet to civilian and back again? Seems a bit... erratic."
Zharra raised her glass to him, with a knowning smirk. "Duty." She said with a cheeky wink.
"Touche." Mayhew raised his glass back to her with a wry grin that he gave in only grave reluctance. "Shit, I'm empty again. I might should call it quits there."
"Sure." Zharra conceded. "Food will make it better. She got any grub around here?"
"Hell if I know," Mayhew said, his words beginning to slur ever so slightly. "This place shouldn't even be here. Probably a replicator or ..." He let out a hiccup. ".... something."
Zharra held up a finger, "yes! Good man! What's your fancy?" She asked as she looked around and located a replicator. "Huzzah!"
"Something beefy," Mayhew said. He needed something to soak up all the booze he had swilled. His tolerance was almost nonexistent thanks to his implant. "And maybe a chaser."
"Two angus beef burgers with the lot." She spoke to the replicator. As the two orders materialized, she pulled out two plates with burgers and set one in front of him. "Two cokes." Then she pulled out two glasses with earth style coca cola and again placed one in front of him.
"Good enough." Mayhew took the burger with both hands and bit off a chunk. It took several chews to get it small enough to even think about swallowing. The coke wasn't much easier on his implant than the alcohol was but it washed down the burger. "Thanks. This... is great." It was actually the first meal he had taken with a woman, or anyone for that matter, since... well, he couldn't remember the last time.
"I know! The Lot is a staple on many Aussie worlds. I'm not Aussie myself, obviously," she ran a free, greasy hand down her side, head to toe. "But Driaan is an Aussie colony, so lot of influence." She said in as fluent an aussie accent as a native would have.
Mayhew finished chewing a bite before asking, "Sorry, gotta ask. What the hell is Aussie?"
"'Strayan...you know a big-ish continent on Earth? Australia?" Zharra looked at him incredulously. "Let me guess, Colonist?"
"No, the Mayhews served since before the United Earth Starfleet," Mayhew said. "We fought against Khan Noonien Singh. Next time you mean a certain word, though, just say it." He scoffed over his coke. "Everybody's heard of Australia."
Zharra chuckled as she bit into her burger again, "and yet you don't know what an Aussie is." She swallowed her bite and chased it down with a coke. "Tisk, tisk, MWO Mayhew. Tisk, tisk!"
"Use real words and you'll get further in life," Mayhew teased back. He bit down the last of his burger and chased it with his coke. "At the very least you might stay at one posting or agency long enough to get promoted."
"Says the local babysitter, stuck on this little old station with an unpromoted me. Clap clap for the handicapped!" Zharra quipped back as she finished off her burger, and then grinned at him before wiping the grease off of her mouth.
If that quip made Mayhew's brow arch, her next one nearly sent it through his forehead.
Then she leaned forward on her elbows and looked him up and down. "Do you need a fuck? Is that what it is? A weird human mating attempt? You're awfully pent up with all kinds of rage." She said in a huskier tone. "I'm down if you are. Just don't get any ideas that this is more than just a rough fuck."
"Lieutenant! Starfleet regulations!" Mayhew knew good and well there were no standing Starfleet regulations about fraternization, but the situation had caught him so completely crossways that he didn't know what else to say. It had been so long that he couldn't remember the last time, not off the top of his head. Duty was his mistress and... well, she was a cold one. But there was still decorum. "Is this a... weird mating attempt from your Orion Aussie colony?!"
Zharra grinned in that 'cat that had the canary in its sights'. "Nah, mate," she said, her blue eyes still on him, "I'm just an Orion, who's a hedonist and enjoys trying out new things...and or people. Now if you're not interested, hey, no harm, no foul. I don't really care, we're good. But, if you are...you know where my quarters are." She winked at him and took the empty plates and her glass and put them in the replicator to get disassembled away.
Looking around, Mayhew felt his blood pressure spike, along with other things. This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Nothing but grief would come from it. But he had to admit one thing. He was full of rage.
"Neerassi..." The name resonated in his digitized vocalizer. He walked over to the replicator and spun Zharra around just as their glassware dematerialized. "I don't know what sick game you're trying to play..." His ragged breathing came out in splotchy distortion, like static interference in an old radio transmission, until he managed to still his throat muscles. "... but you got a deal."
Zharra grinned and snuck one arm down and around his waist, the other sneaking up and to the back of his head. "Well, come on then, Marine!" She shimmied closer to him. "I'll need a lift, this counter is taller than my arse." The Orion said as she pulled his lips down to hers, smashing them together in a none too gentle a kiss.
The forceful woman's advances brought a growl from Mayhew's throat that sounded even more like comm interference. He hoisted her up by her voluptuous lower curves and sat her on the bar top. Even that didn't make him crane his neck much. But it did put her other assets on display in more direct view. Whatever inhibitions Mayhew had been harboring went out the window.
"You don't give me orders," he grunted as he began pawing at the jacket she always wore. "Not here you don't."
"Fuck off, buddy! You chose to be here," Zharra countered between kisses and trying to get her jacket off and help him with his. Her legs wrapped around his mid-section in a bit to stay and not be put off by her language.
Once he'd peeled her jacket like a rind, Mayhew paused to appreciate the sight of Zharra in her undershirt.
"We're not supposed to be here," Mayhew countered as he pulled at her lip in an angry grunt. "Nobody's supposed to be here. This whole fucking place shouldn't be here!" His outburst only set him off more, leading him to nip any exposed flesh his hungry hands could find in their rough roving gropes.
A delighted giggle escaped her as pushed him away playfully, the teeth that had grazed her neck grazing her skin and drawing a bit of blood. The orion smirked as she peeled off her shirt, leaving her in an practical, starfleet issue bra. Zharra leaned forward and reached for him again, green fingers fiddling with his shirt, "stop complaining and take your shirt off, or your pants, or both!" She gave him a wild look.
"Wasn't complaining." A touch of the growl had come back, though his mouth twisted into a mirthless smirk. He hated this station and the incompetent tools who came to run it. He hated that he had to protect them. And this damned bar was a microcosm of that, a foolhardy proviso in some fool diplomat's agreement to secure a piece of tech nobody cares about anyway. Everything wrong with Memory Theta could be summer up by this Telino bar that never should have been. And now Mayhew was going to have his way with an Orion femme fatale right on the polished woodgrain. "Still ain't taking orders."
But he peeled off his clothes anyway, and with the practiced haste that only someone trained in combat field showers could pull off. Bare-chested and already glistening from aggravated anticipation, Mayhew barked an order of his own. "Now lay back." He punctuated his words with a light shove.
Neerassi grinned as she adjusted herself and leaned back as far as she could have in the narrow and layered space she cornered herself into and lifted her hips a little, to help him peel off her pants easier. "Yes...Master." Zharra bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at the ridiculousness of her words.
Normally such irreverence would have been a bucket of ice water for Mayhew, but under the circumstances... doing what he knew he shouldn't in stark rebellious protest for every outrageous action on his watch... her sarcastic sass tapped a primal nerve. "Yeah, that's right," he said as he assumed the position. "Say it again."
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