Isaura's on Borrowed Time

Posted on Mon Mar 7th, 2016 @ 12:19pm by Commander Oralia Zeferino & IKS Ning'Tao

Mission: Further Challenges
Location: Romulus

*Romulus, Hotel Bainz*

“Ugh...” Isaura scrubbed at her hair with a dry towel. She’d finally showered the last of the blue decon gel off of her skin and out of her hair. The Romulans hadn’t exactly rinsed her off very well. “Jerks,” she muttered and entered the bedroom of the hotel room. On the bed was a set of new everything - leather pants, jacket, a lacy shirt, bra and panties and boots. It had been sent up by Baier; the man apparently had a sense of humor, since the shirt was rather see-through, just as much as her yellow dress had been.

“Lovely,” she discarded the towel and started dressing. She could order room service... the hotel was on the Chairman’s bill, but she had been given funds to go get something to eat if she wanted to. She looked at the few credits on the bedspread. It certainly wasn’t enough to get off the planet - not that she would; she needed to rescue Kaeli. And she had a choice: she could wait till Jarad got there, dragging Drekkar with him and allowing the Chairman time to torture Kaeli, or she could go do something stupid tonight.

Whatever she did would be stupid: she had no weapons and no clue about the Tal Shiar’s fortress. Partly dressed, she sat on the bed and debated. “Room service... versus dinner out...,” she looked at the pants, shirt and jacket and wondered whether she could get away with asking the hotel for a completely different outfit. This one, she was sure, had a tracker in it somewhere. A new outfit from the hotel would likely have the same defect. “Dinner out... yes, indeed.” She put the clothes on and headed out.

Several blocks and minutes later, Isa paused, leaning against a building, and watched the passing crowd. After a few minutes, she noticed two men loitering half a block down. She ducked behind a large man and hurried along in his shadow then, at the next street, took a left. She did the same thing: traveled for several blocks then stopped. This time, she paused to get something to eat. While she ate, she kept an eye out and, just as she expected, two men stopped and loitered near the restaurant. “All right, then...,” she muttered.

When she left the restaurant, she went out the back door and ran down the alley then along a street. Ahead, she saw what she needed and went for it.

Several minutes later, her followers converged on the place where she’d stopped, again. It was a dessert shop; the two rolled their eyes at each other and waited outside the shop, taking turns trying to catch sight of Isaura. One of them checked the scanner he held and shook his head, “She’s in there.”

“Great... probably working to stretch out those pants even more than she already does,” the other grumbled. It was a comment that, if Isa had heard it, would have had Isa protesting that her hips and thighs were not that big.

But Isa wasn’t there and she certainly wasn’t in the dessert shop across the street. Her clothes were, to be sure, but not her. Isa was nearly three kilometers away and making good distance. At some point, she knew she’d have to stop and sleep and find some way of contacting Jarad to let him know where she was. She wasn’t sure how she’d do that, though she had scored well with her new clothes: the woman had had a pocketful of latinum pieces. Those pieces and the woman’s pocket were now Isa’s.

She considered going back to the Hotel Bainz; the room there was paid for after all, but... she was pretty sure the Tal Shiar would be notified as soon as she set foot in the hotel again. Isaura pulled the woman’s coat around her a little tighter as a light rain started to fall. “Just what I need,” she grumbled and hurried on, to where she didn’t know.

Having wandered for hours and getting soaked to the bone by the rain, which had gotten steadily heavier, Isaura finally gave up and slunk into a small hole in the wall diner. It was the type of place where the waitress scowled at regulars and was openly hostile to new customers. This evening, Isaura was lucky: the owner was on duty because the waitress had called out for one reason or another.

Dripping water from her hair and her clothes (stolen clothes), Isa tried to be as unnoticeable as possible as she took a table. It was hard to be unnoticeable, however: for one, she was obviously not Romulan; for another, she was one of only four people in the place, including the owner, the busboy and the cook. Water puddled on the floor and the seat under her and she started to shiver as the owner came over.

“Whaddya havin’?”

“Ah... do you have... um...,” she wracked her brain for the Romulan version of hot cocoa and couldn’t think of it. “Do you have something like hot chocolate? You know, warm and cozy and ...comforting?”

He frowned at her. “Sounds like you’re askin’ for a blanket.” He turned and yelled something at the cook. He then looked under the table and frowned some more; he turned and yelled for the busboy to bring a mop. “Don’t go anywhere,” he muttered and headed into the kitchen.

The busboy came out and applied a partially damp mop to the puddle of rainwater. He managed to move the water around the floor. The owner came back, carrying a towel in one hand and a blanket in the other. He set one on the table and dropped the other over Isa’s head. “Dry off. You look like a puppy someone tried to drown.”

“Um... thanks? Maybe?” She grabbed the towel - surprisingly clean considering the diner’s general state - and rubbed at her hair. “Am I eating that blanket or do you have some hot chocolate? Something like hot chocolate?”

The cook came out with a tray holding a single cup of something steaming. “Replicator knows what hot cocoa is.” He set it on the table and retreated back to his kitchen.

“Oh, thanks,” she smiled, though she’d barely caught a glimpse of the guy, and pulled the blanket around her, realizing that the owner had replicated both blanket and towel for her. “You’re awfully nice...,” she commented.

The owner, who hadn’t yet left her alone, laughed. “Should there be a phrase at the end there: ‘for a Romulan’?”

“Ah... I... um, I didn’t mean that,” she stammered. She sipped the cocoa and sighed. “This is good.”

The owner nodded. “Replicators rarely get things wrong. Enjoy it; I’ll bring you something to eat.”

“Is there a menu?”, she asked.

Without turning back to look at her, he laughed and said, ‘No, we don’t use menus here.”

“Huh,” she grunted to herself and used the towel to soak up rainwater on the table.

* Diner Office *

“...here.”

The owner of the diner was speaking to an angry face on a small, grimy screen, which asked, “Are you certain?”

“How many female Bajorans with long dark hair and dark eyes are running around the capital? Her clothes don’t fit her, either in size or class. The coat matches the description in the announcement,” he answered. “I’ll pepper her dinner with a sedative to keep her here until you can get here.”

“Make that pepper something a bit more toxic, Dimib. Pretty funny that of all the diners in the city, she walked into yours,” Baier laughed.

“Toxic? Do you want her dead when you get here?”

“No, just sick. I’ll finish her once I have her back here; I have a few interns who need some practical experience.”

Dimib swallowed and was glad this woman was the one who’d be practiced upon, not him. “She’ll be here,” he assured the man.

Around the corner, the diner’s cook moved away after having listened to the conversation.

A few minutes later, Dimib took a bowl of soup out to Isaura and set it before her. “Thought you might like something else a little more warming,” he said.

Isa smiled and thanked him, with just a tiny hitch in her voice. “That is so sweet. I’ll let it cool slightly and finish my cocoa first. Mixing sweet with savory doesn’t really work for me.” She’d read him and knew better than to touch the soup.

Dimib nodded, “Well, make sure you eat it all; it’s an old family recipe guaranteed to ward off any illness from this weather.”

“I’m sure... I can smell the spices from here.” She was frantically trying to think of how to get out of there. “Oh, hey, do you have a restroom?” She hoped there was a window in it.

“Straight on through that way.” He pointed down a short hallway but blocked her from getting up. “Just try the soup for me, though. It’ll be cold by the time you get back.”

That was Isaura’s plan. “Ah... well.... um....,” one spoonful couldn’t hurt, could it? She could read that he wasn’t trying to kill her - just make her sick. “Well... okay, just a taste.” She pulled it closer to her and debated tipping the whole bowl over. She was saved from the decision by the bell over the door. It rang as someone entered and Dimib reacted to the new customer.

At the same time, the cook came out and, while reaching for her hot cocoa mug, blatantly knocked the soup bowl over. The hot soup flooded the table and spilled over the edge onto Isa’s lap. “Ow!”, she scrambled up, knocking Dimib aside. The soup wasn’t hot enough to hurt her - especially since her clothes were wet and cold already, but it had been an automatic response.

The cook grabbed Isa’s arm and said, “Come, I’ll get you another towel,” and pulled at her. For a moment, Isa was going to refuse. Then he thought at her: That’s a Tal Shiar officer coming in here to pick you up.

“Oh,” she glanced at the door then Dimib, who was starting to reach for her other arm, then the cook. He was touching her and she could read him more clearly than anyone else around her; she liked his thoughts better than Dimib’s and let him yank her away towards the kitchen.

Dimib shouted, “Tindam! What are you doing? Bring her back here!” He was confused and didn’t move for a moment, which blocked the Romulans coming in the front door.

Baier, the last to come in, shoved his way forward and demanded, “Where is she?” Dimib pointed towards the kitchen and Baier growled, “You’d better hope we catch her. Otherwise, you’ll get to meet the interns.” He motioned for his officers to go after her.

Meanwhile, Isa wasn’t quite sure what the hell was happening; she was just following this guy who’d told her to follow him if she wanted to not die. Well, really he’d said if she didn’t want to be tortured, which was threat enough to make her hustle down the dark alley, tripping on trash. Tindam held her arm and yanked her along, urging her to hurry. She regretted swapping her Romulan-supplied and possibly tracker-infected boots for the socialite’s heels now. “I’m hurrying!”

“Not enough. Do you realize what they’ll do to us?”, he growled at her as they reached the end of the alley and he shoved her to the right.

She tripped and would have fallen if he hadn’t had a grip on her. “Ow... Ow...,” she muttered.

“Maybe you could have dressed a little more practically since you knew being chased was likely.”

“Hey--!” She started to pull away from him but he suddenly grabbed her, slapped a hand over her mouth and flattened her against a doorway. All of which could have been fine if he hadn’t done so with the doorknob in her back.

“Shut it!” He hissed just as three Romulans in uniforms, brandishing weapons ran past. They’re pulling out the stops to find you; who did you kill?

No one!

He nodded then grabbed her hand and yanked her away from the doorway. They crossed the street and went into another alley; Isa stepped in a puddle of something she was sure she didn’t want to know the origin of. He hauled her along several more alleys and streets then pushed her ahead of him down a stairwell and through a doorway. He turned and bolted the door then activated a force field. “Come on,” he said before sniffing the air and wrinkling his nose. “Maybe a warm shower for you first.”

“Hey! You’re the one--!”

“Tindam?”, the voice asking leveled a weapon at her. “Who’s she?”

“Someone the Shiars want to hurt,” he answered.

“And you brought her here? Did you check her for trackers? Weapons?”

He sighed, “No. Not yet.” Reaching for her coat, he warned, “Behave or you’ll be out on the street again.”

“Hey!” She started to fight him to keep her stolen coat, but lost that fight. She also lost the fight with her stolen shoes and dress as well.

“Burn these,” Tindam told the weaponed voice, tossing the wet items to the floor. He eyed a now-naked Isa (she hadn’t stolen undergarments but couldn’t keep the ones she’d had, since they might have had a tracker on them). “It’s pretty obvious she’s not hiding any weapons, except her tongue. I’d wager she doesn’t have a tracker on her, either.” She glared at him and he turned away, “Come on, a shower and new clothes might help you hate me less.”

“And maybe some explanation about what the hell just happened and who you are?” She followed him, shivering and hugging herself. The person with the weapon wasn’t in the room; she didn’t see him as Tindam led her to a bedroom and gestured to the bathroom. “All yours. You’ll note that there’s no windows in here, so feel free to take your time. I’ll set some clothes out on the bed.”

* Later *

She had stopped shivering around minute ten under the hot water. Now, she was dry and dressed in the pants and shirt the guy had left for her. She looked in the room's closet and found a hooded jacket; she pulled it on even though it was too big for her. In a drawer, she found socks and a weapon: a sheathed dagger. She took it and put it in a pocket of the jacket. He hadn't left any shoes for her, so the socks would have to do for now.

Feeling slightly better, Isaura peeked out of the room and saw two men in chairs. They were both staring at the bedroom door. Neither was Tindam. Tindam’s laugh sounded in the room, though. “You can come out, Ms. Panossian; none of us will bite.”

She did, warily. “How do you know my name?” She crept out towards the two men in the chairs; now she saw Tindam. He was in the kitchen, eating something. Her stomach growled.

He smiled and tapped his head. “I read it. Also read that you’re trouble.”

One of the guys in the chairs coughed and said, “Don’t believe him, sweets. We all heard it on the evening news. Word is that you killed some muckity-muck. ‘Armed and Dangerous’.” He laughed.

Tindam frowned. I’m a telepath, Isaura.

Never would have known that, she grumped at him and walked to the kitchen. She eyed his food. “Is there more of that?”

“Yeah, you gonna pay me for it?” He held the food away from her.

She glared at him, “I think the show earlier was payment enough.”

He laughed, so did one of the other two. “Nice confidence. Here,” he handed her the remainder of his sandwich. “So your friend, Kaeli? She’s in the fortress? I hope you kissed her goodbye ‘cause you’re not seeing her again.”

“I will too,” Isaura said stubbornly. “I’m going to get her out.”

Tindam scoffed and shook his head. “You didn’t seem entirely crazy until just now.”

She bit into the half of the sandwich he hadn’t eaten off of yet. “I’m not. She’s my friend, though, and I can’t just leave her there to be tortured.” She looked at the sandwich, her nose wrinkling slightly. “Isn’t that why you rescued me? Because I was going to be tortured?”

“Tortured and killed,” he confirmed. “Can’t stand to see a pretty girl done that way.”

“Yeah, but you blew your cover, too!”, complained one of his friends. Isa arched a brow at him.

“So what? They’ll either understand and I’ll develop a new one or they won’t and I go home,” he shrugged. “But good on you for telling our new friend here that I had a cover.”

Isa, mouth full of sandwich, said, “Mmph... I kinda goth thath, guyth. Even before you thaid thath.” Tindam stared at her a moment, long enough that she tapped her head and said, “You’re not the only telepath in the room.”

“You know that breaking into the fortress is not doable, right?” He laughed. “Even we’ve never considered doing that, though we’ve had friends...,” his voice trailed off.

“I have friends coming. I need to contact them.”

One of the men in the chairs stood and came into the kitchen. Isa jumped when she saw he was holding a disruptor. “Tindam, you can’t go telling her about us. You know the rules.”

“I also know that I’m the ranking officer here,” Tindam said, warningly.

Isa’s jaw dropped. “Ranking officer? Who the hell are you?” She noticed that the third guy was now on his feet.

Tindam waved him back down. “Sit, Lorin. I entangled her, so I’ll handle this.” He looked at the one with the disruptor, “Ense, put it away.” Both obeyed his orders, a fact that impressed Isa. Tindam took her arm and directed her into the living room. “You, too, sit.” She took a seat on the couch, a fact that would have amazed Rafael if he’d been there. He might even have asked whether Tindam was using some form of mental control.

“It’s unlikely that you’ve heard of our species. We’re small - our scientists have developed warp tech, but most of our technology comes from Romulus. The Romulans call us ‘Skikin’ and they rarely allow us off the planet.” Tindam started explaining. Isa took a breath to ask why, but he held up a finger and she quieted down. Rafe would have liked that particular trick. “Some of us have telepathy; some don’t. Some have the ability to... hmm... control others to a greater or lesser degree.” He lowered his finger.

Isa looked at the two men and then looked outraged. “Did you just...? On me? On them?”

Tindam shrugged. “Perhaps. Anyway, Romulans know we could take over, easily, so they keep us contained.”

“Which is why I’ve never heard of your species,” she said. She was quick and put the rest together; she was aware he was reading her as she did so. “You are such an asshole.”

Again, he shrugged. “You didn’t seem to mind when I got you out of the diner.” And, really, you didn’t seem to mind so much when I stripped you. His grin was slow and feral.

She looked around for something to throw at him. She didn’t find anything within easy reach and wondered whether he’d planned that somehow. Then she remembered the dagger... and decided that was a little extreme. She wanted to hurt him, not kill him. She glared at him, “Did you just mind trick me?”

He laughed and shook his head. “No. I promise, I won’t do that too much, Isaura.”

“Are we safe here or do we need to move somewhere else?”, she asked. Ense grumbled something and Isa leaned towards him, “What?”

Lorin spoke up, “We don’t need to worry. This was our clean house,” the phrase made Isa look around; she noticed it was rather clean considering three males used it, “so we’re safe. Your clothes didn’t have a tracker in them, either. Oh, I pulled the latinum out of the pocket,” he pulled them from a pocket and set them on the table.

“Clean house, Isa, meaning we rarely come here, so we’re not associated with it. Not clean...,” Tindam said.

Isa sneered at him. “I know what a clean house is. Geez.” She yawned. “Ugh, ‘scuse me. I need to contact an incoming ship. Do you have any equipment for that?”

Tindam and the other two seemed to confer, silently, about that. From Ense, Isa could send a definite “hell no” response; Lorin was slightly less - his was more of a “we need to not be involved in this” response. Tindam’s response was the one that ruled: “We’ll get you to the necessary equipment in the morning. In the meantime, these two are going home and we’re going to bed.”

She arched a brow at him again but held her tongue till Ense and Lorin were out the door. “We’re going to bed? Really? Are you going to mind trick me into that?”

He laughed and his self-assurance bothered Isa. “That’s one thing I’ve never done and never will do. I don’t need to ‘mind trick’ anyone into my bed. ‘Course, I did appreciate the earlier payment and wouldn’t mind more of that at all.”

“No. Point me to a bed and then leave me alone.”

He sighed. “You’re a tough one, Ms. Panossian. Take the bed in there,” he gestured at the room where she’d changed earlier.

“Where are you sleeping?”

“Same place. Do you expect me to leave you alone in here?” He shook his head. “I might just handcuff you to me.”

“The hell you will! I’ll go sleep in an alley before I agree to that!”

“Remember how cold and wet it is out there. I’m sure a warm, dry bed, even one that’s shared, is preferable to that.”

“Fine... but I’m replicating pajamas, then,” she said, looking around for the device. He pointed to one wall and she went over to it. A few minutes later, she had pajamas in hand; his brow rose on seeing them. When she came out of the bathroom, he laughed so hard he cried; the pajamas were one piece, neck to foot, and the material was a fuzzy flannel with bananas and monkeys covering it.

************
Isaura Panossian