Posted by Lieutenant Akane Sakai (Counselor) in Promenade

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Nikki Brako (Chief of Operations) in Promenade

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Nikki Brako (Chief of Operations) in Promenade
Posted by… suppressed (1) by the Post Ghost! 👻
The great doors slid shut behind him. The hydraulic hiss and dull thud of the door closing halted the breeze that he felt from behind. It had brought a mix of ozone and lubricants to his nostrils. His first thought was that the hydraulics were off, though, as he looked around at the aging outpost, his next thought was that that was going to be the least of his worries. He stepped back to allow a hover cart filled with crates driven too fast by a young Bolian to pass by. With a ships’ arrival there was always a flurry of activity followed by the inevitable ‘wait’ for the next. How busy was this place commercially? How tight a hold did the Feds have on it? They tended to strangle initiative where they were deeply rooted in.

‘Dressed’ for the occasion, Nikki wore his traveling clothes - a dark pinstripe suit with a high open collar, maroon shirt and darker blood red tie. Between his teeth he had a half smoked cigar which he chewed on through one side of his teeth. It was uncertain if it was a real cigar or one of the simulated ones now popular in some circles - again a Ferengi invention not unlike synthahol. Peering out from under the fedora that hid his distinctive hair style he simply looked around. Th e deck plating showed wear from years of use; some slight warping seen here and there. The usual cleanliness of Starfleet ships - or his own family’s yachts - was not there. Instead there was what seemed to be a layer of grime that simply could not be cleaned. “What a dump!” he said more to himself than to anyone in particular - none of whom was really paying any attention to him. This was followed up by, “What an opportunity.” Like it or not this was his territory now. ‘You make of life what you will. Don’t let others do it for you. Shape your dream and make it happen.’ his grandfather had said to him. he had been alive in the ‘transition’ where the gangs of Sigma Iotia started to come together and they looked then to the stars. Of course his life had not precisely gone in the direction he had anticipated, but then his destiny was different. And Nikki was nothing if not resilient.
- Nikki Brako, COO

Nikki took a short tour of the promenade to see what was about. It was a dank, squalid affair. Pausing at an air vent he sniffed. Electronic filters long overdue, and was that scratching sound a vole or a poor circulatory system? He squinted and made a face of distaste before continuing on his tour. He was scheduled with the boss’ runner up, the muscle, in a little while yet. He’d looked Teller up. Impressive dame. Her looks for sure. The photos he had seen of her were okay but they’d be better if they were accentuated by holding a phaser rifle or shotgun. Enforcers always looked better like that. Otherwise a dame that was a knockout like that should only be on a fur rug.

After another fifteen minutes of moving about he determined it was time to check in. His gear was, hopefully, going to be delivered. Somewhere. Likely the QM until he knew where he was holding up. Hopefully delivered by someone other than that Bolian kid who should be better suited as a driver on a getaway car. Stopping at a kiosk where there was a menu display, the Iotian got his bearings and set his own course for the bridge, or should he say operations center of the .. sickly beast. Finding the nearest lift that would take him up, he stood straight up in the center of it, hands clasped behind his head, teeth clenched and chewing on the cigar. Small trails of smoke wafted up from it. The way the lift moved made him wonder if it would make it. Here and there it sounded like a wounded beast on its last breath. “Hell, they sent me to hell,” he muttered to himself. “At least I should find friends here,” he said as the lift stopped and doors slowly parted …
Nikki

OOC: Anyone about that might react to an oddly dressed fellow exiting the lift? .. Gene <G>

OOC: Lol, who says it’s odd, you should meet some of my family! :)

OOC: So you’re saying Nikki’s one of your strange uncle’s? <G>

IC: Akane let out an audible yawn as she leant against the bulkhead waiting for the snail express turbolift to arrive. It had been a very long day and she was ready for a drink, perhaps even a bit of karaoke. She had a quick stretch as the doors to the turbolift finally creaked open to reveal a very curious sight. She blinked a few times and wondered if she had started to hallucinate from exhaustion. Deciding this was not the case, she quickly cleared her throat and extended her hand. “Apologies, I’m fairly new here, I don’t think we’ve met?” she asked tentatively, knowing full well that she would have remembered meeting this chap.

Lt Sakai (CNS)

The doors opened and a rather short dame dressed in Starfleet drag was there looking for all the world like a narcoleptic bit of statuary. Humored, he watched her blink, one hand eventually coming up to snatch the cigar from between his teeth. “Were ye a bit taller, lass, I’d have mistaken ye for me dear Fiona standin on the far side o the loo.” He stepped out enough not to be entombed again by the lift and shook her hand. It was small, but soft and pleasant. “Nikki,” he said. “Just off the boat. Likely sent me luggage to Bajor instead o’ here.” His eyes took her in. “Small package, aren’t ye?” he commented. “But likely fiesty.” He gave her a quick wink that could have meant a dozen things. “I’m supposed te be yer new engineerin chief. Operations they call it. I’m tellin ya, this place could use a good operation.” He knew the looks of the boss but this dame he didn’t know. He didn’t see her on his scan of the principle crew on the way. In truth he had tried to sleep a lot of the way. The transport was about as smooth as a tug boat and had a bad plasma injector that caused the thing to jerk and shudder with every course correction - which was frequent due to, what he figured, was a poor navigational computer.
- Nikki Brako, OPS