Posted by Civilian Jason Reilly (Assistant Director - Colonial Intelligence) in Arrival of the shady sort

Posted by Civilian Logan Mills (Smuggler) in Arrival of the shady sort

Posted by Civilian Jason Reilly (Assistant Director - Colonial Intelligence) in Arrival of the shady sort
Posted by… suppressed (8) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Logan grimaced as he maneuvered his ship towards the Spaceport. His shoulder was throbbing and he was fairly certain he’d bled through the makeshift bandage he’d wrapped around it after getting the ship launched. He wasn’t even sure if he’d be allowed on this colony, but currently the Klingons were not his friends, and so he had to risk Federation contact. At least until he got his shoulder patched up, he’d have to stick close by. Thankfully, the ship was empty, so as long as he could convince people he wasn’t following the family name, he should be able to remain at least out of jail.

As he approached the spaceport, he reduced his speed, opening a channel. “OED V Spaceport, this is the cargo vessel SS Corydon requesting permission to dock.”

“I’m sorry, there was channel interference, did you say the Corydon?” Came the shaky voice of a young adult, couldn’t be much older than Logan himself.

“Affirmative. Cargo Vessel.”

“I don’t see your registration in the database. Standby for cargo scan.” Logan rolled his eyes, these scans always took ages. Finally the shaky voice came back “alright, cargo looks clear, you’re cleared to dock in bay 4.”

About time! Logan thought, closing the channel and proceeding to dock in bay 4. As he slowly disembarked from the ship, he took a look around.

Logan Mills

After not being stopped by anyone, Logan began wandering from the docking bay into the Spaceport proper. He needed medical attention, and quickly, he could tell that his shoulder was screwed up heavily, but without supplies or training, or an extendable neck, he couldn’t fix it himself.

He pressed his right elbow tighter against the messenger bag slung over his body, what few items he actually owned were in there and he wasn’t fond of getting robbed. As he entered the main area of the Spaceport, his vision swam, from a combination of the pain and blood loss, and he dropped to his knees, panting.

Logan Mills

It was like they materialized out of nowhere. Figures in blue uniforms had hands on him and were laying him on the deck. “Get a medical here asap.” one voice said. “Scanning for ID. Anyone know what ship he came off of?” said another. “Hasn’t cleared customs and checked in yet.” said one more. After that, it was a cacophony of sound until he’s scooped up and lifted off the floor on a stretcher. A face came into view, a Klingon of all things. “Easy. Don’t move. We are here to help.” The face looked away and someone said something. He looked back down and said “You aren’t in trouble, but the CCDA is going to question you after you are treated. Please… don’t try to sneak off. It would not go well for you.” and suddenly the face was gone and he was in a turbolift.

CCDA

Had he been in any state to fight, Logan would’ve freaked at the sight of the Klingon, but he was too weak and tired to fight. He immediately began trying, between the blood-loss haze and the activity around him, to formulate some sort of plan he could enact without anyone catching on. As soon as his family’s history was discovered, he was fairly certain he’d be detained. He figured that maybe he could use the fact that his ship was empty as leverage that he’s associated with them in name only, and had given up his smuggler ways, whether true or not.

Logan Mills

Over the next few hours, the young man was tended to medically. In addition to the wound he had received, it had gotten infected. The medical staff, a mix of Star Fleet and civilian personnel, healed the wound and flooded him with antibiotics that neutralized the infection. They were courteous, professional… and kept their interactions with him to a minimum. It was also not lost on him that there was always some figure in a blue uniform present.

Once the wound was repaired, a pair of the blue-clad figures- whom he would now be able to identify as agents of the Colonial Customs and Defense Agency- came in handed him clean clothes in a shade of red that indicated one thing: prisoner. “Get dressed.” was the only thing they said, and then they waited, watching.

CCDA

Logan sighed. Of course this would happen. He got dressed quickly, not wanting to draw the ire of the CCDA. “I thought I was going to get a chance to talk about this. Don’t I have, like, some right to defend myself?!” Logan had no idea what he was going to do to convince anyone he wasn’t a criminal, but apparently he couldn’t cross that bridge now.

Logan Mills

Once he was dressed, the restraints were placed on his wrists and ankles. He was duck-walked out of the room, down the hall, and into a lift. The guards didn’t say a word, didn’t look at him… but the grip they kept on him was inflexible.

The doors opened and they were in a garage. Ground cars and sliders were parked all around. At some point, he had apparently been moved planet-side. In front of them was a transport slider; obviously modified to transport prisoners. As they walked to the back of the van, everything went black… a hood had been placed on his head.

There was the sound of a door opening, he was raises off the ground and more hands grabbed him and then he was sat on something. The door closed… but they didn’t move.

“Hello!” a male voice said. “Nice to meet you. So… you have yourself in a bit of a pickle, then. Thats unfortunate. But! Maybe there is a way to… let’s say ‘improve your station’, shall we? Would you be interested in that? Or want to take your chances with the court?”

Unknown Voice

Logan sighed again, “well taking my chances with the court I already know won’t end well. So I’m interested. What is it you’re offering?” He still had no idea what was going on, but at this point he’d work as a personal accountant to a Ferengi if it meant avoiding the Federation courts.

Logan Mills

The voice said “Are you sure you wanna know? Because I will be honest… you are for all intents and purposes still a kid. They would probably go easy on you. Say… ten years penal time, three to five hard labor, then a prohibition against working on, owning, operating, or being party to any interest in a star ship. Any star ship. So you’d be stuck on one planet for, oh… the rest of your life. And a convicted felon, of course. But… if I tell you about this here offer? Well, that changes things quite a bit. Because if I tell you, and you decide to say no… or you agree and then try to run, well… then that ship of yours will be found to have thirty kilograms of uncut Spice on board. And a few crates of Type Three Disruptor pistols- very very illegal, by the way- stashed in a secret compartment. And then-” and there was a low whistle, “- well… that’s mandatory life hard labor… probably on a penal colony somewhere near the Klingon border. So are you sure you wanna know?”

Unknown Voice

Logan bit back a growl. They were going to mess with his ship. “I definitely want to know now. You are really challenging a smuggler by threatening to plant stuff on their ship. Either you’re very daring, or you’ve done this before.” Logan had heard the tactic before, but those times he wasn’t restrained and in an unknown location.

Logan Mills

“Oh no… not your ship.”the voice said “My ship. You see, thats part of the offer. You will work for me. I will tell you what jobs to take, what extras you are allowed, where to go and when to be back. You will do exactly what I say. Without question. Without hesitation. When I say ‘Jump.’, you just keep going up till I say stop. You will have no friends other than the ones I give you. You will live where I say live. You will eat where I say eat. You will wear what I give you to wear and you will do it all with a smile and a heart filled with gratitude. Do it right, the leash gets longer. Do it wrong, and I use the leash to hang you. Pretty simple. And the more you do for me, the more I will let you do for yourself… as long as that agenda does not interfere with mine.” There was a pause and then a snap of fingers. “Oh, right… one other condition. Sorry, but I’m gonna have to kill you today.”

Unknown Voice

Ah there was the catch, and what was this about killing him? “I hope you mean that last part figuratively.” As he thought, this person wasn’t afraid, which actually made him afraid of them. “And when do I start?” While the offer sounded a bit like slavery, it was still better than the alternatives, so it was his best shot for now.

And if it made it easier to ignore his family’s reputation, that might just be a bonus in his favor, since this sounded, too, like it might be much more lucrative than a normal smuggler contract.

Logan Mills