A Numbers Game

Posted on Tue Sep 17th, 2024 @ 3:03pm by Captain Malcom Llwyedd & Lieutenant Owen Woodhouse & Lieutenant Gale Deekros

3,337 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: Interlude 1 Gamma Quadrant
Location: DS18

[ON]

Lieutenant Owen Woodhouse, the generally reserved Chief Operations Officer aboard Firebird was waiting in Transporter Room One with a small equipment satchel slung crosswise against his yellow uniform top. He'd requested the assistance of the science department in an investigation he was launching to find the source of some unusual power allocations on the station. Normally, of course, he'd request engineering or another operations officer but personnel availability was much thinner than he liked given recent events and he suspected that a science officer might have unique insights to give.

Lieutenant Gale Deekros stepped into Transporter Room One with a grin so infectious it would worry any CMO . "You must be Lt. Woodhouse," the Trill man said, extending a hand. "I'm Lt. Gale Deekros, one of our newest science officers, but don't you worry. I took extensive engineering extension courses at the Academy, and got some of the highest marks. You are in good, if slightly cool, hands," he added, with a joke about Trills tendency to run a lower temperature than humans.

"Lieutenant," Woodhouse shook the offered hand in greeting. He was not terribly old for the position of Chief Operations Officer, but faint scarring visible around the collar of his uniform and the sleeves of his jacket hinted at more life experience untold. "Well, I wasn't worried about your qualifications, but the jokes are making me rethink that," he offered with a dry sense of humor and a barely evident uptick at the corner of his lips. He motioned to the transporter pad before stepping up and taking one of the illuminated positions. "All jokes aside, this shouldn't require extensive electro-mechanical knowledge, though we have encountered some illegal system taps already, so all bets are off. I assume you've read the brief?"

Gale nodded as he ascended the transporter pad, readjusting his own equipment satchel. "I have indeed. Mysterious and possibly less than legal power draws on the station." The Trill paused, tilting his head. "Have you considered the possibility of an illicit arboretum? There are quite a few, ahem, potent substances that are best derived from non-replicated botanicals and some of these plants require very specialized and very power-intensive lighting." Gale grinned and held his hands out, palms and fingers splayed open. "I don't know this from direct experience, but my mother is a botanist and, well, we had an imaginative botany office on my last vessel who did mention such plants as a sure means of having a tidy side business, albeit one with a high risk of a court martial."

"That sounds like an interesting hypothesis," Woodhouse acknowledged, though honestly, he thought it a bit far-fetched. Still, stranger things have happened in the last month. He gave a settled nod, squared his shoulders, and nodded to the transporter specialist. "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Potter. Lock onto the coordinates and energize."

There was little delay before the transporter began to hum and the dematerialization began. You could say a lot of things about Potter, but he was good at his job.

When the two lieutenants rematerialized moments later, it was in an area of the station with little illumination that Owen was not familiar with. Though there wasn't much to see directly, other senses were bombarded immediately -- several people could be heard talking over one another in different languages, and the smell of slightly sweet and foreign aromatics wafted around them. The source of both sounds and scents were coming from somewhere close.

Gale didn't have the night vision other species possessed, but the moment their atoms rematerialized wherever they were, he knew this definitely was not a greenhouse. His wide, brown, and damnably still-adjusting eyes turned to where he assumed Owen had materialized, waiting for the darkness to clear and praying they had at least a moment to plan before those unseen denizens of this space found them.

No one seemed to come for them, however. The owners of the voices heard nearby were too indistinct to be picked up by the Universal Translator, but seemed far more interested in whatever they were occupied with to notice any strum from a transport.

Woodhouse's vision, on the other hand, was abnormally perfect in low light. He had no issue making out the features of their location at the end of a small dog-legged service corridor. He fished a tricorder out of its compartment in his satchel and scanned around the immediate vicinity. "31 life signs through this corridor twenty meters in a larger open chamber," he noted to the science officer in almost a whisper, "and here's our power tap," he continued as he rotated towards an exposed junction panel and illuminated the area in a tight beam of light. A non-Starfleet grade conduit snaked out of the panel and ran across the ceiling and down the corridor toward the gathering.

"31 life signs? Well, I don't fancy their chances," Gale whispered with a bravado that, in all honesty, only ran spot-deep. Quietly opening his own tricorder, he watched the pulse and flow of the power as it flowed from the tap and down the conduit. "Arranging a convenient outage to end this illegal draw seems a possibility, but would leave us no more enlightened as to their purpose." Gale peered into what was slowly becoming a slightly lighter murk. "Unless you imagine putting either our diplomacy or deception skills to the test."

Gale tried not to think how his skills in the latter weren't much better than his ability to not be verbose when silence was called for.

"Could be something as innocuous as an underground market. We shut it down without confronting the reason, and it's likely just to pop up somewhere else," Owen agreed. "So, we investigate. Can we determine if anyone in there is armed?"

"As unglamorous as a night market scenario might be, I must admit, it's one of the more likely. Humanoids do seem to have a penchant for illicit commerce." Gale frowned as he peered into the general direction of the power-drawing gathering. "Perhaps our tricorders could detect a phaser's energy banks, but I doubt they could detect a knife."

A gleam came to Gale's face that could have illuminated the dark, and his eyebrows rose as he described his idea with whispered excitement."Though, if they thought we were harmless, perhaps they'd be less inclined to use any weapons and more inclined to talk. Say, if they assumed we were lost and perhaps even mildly injured?"

"Well, you're the scientist, can you figure out the beam weapon situation in there first?" Owen motioned to the opened tricorder in the blue shirt's hand. There was a pause the length of a heartbeat then as he considered. "I don't think deception is a way to gain trust," he answered before immediately tapping his comm badge.

"Potter, keep a lock on Lieutenant Deekros and me and standby. We may need a quick exit." Owen closed the connection after a reluctant-sounding acknowledgment. Owen's volume had risen a bit to an almost normal level, and yet there was no change in the voices coming from beyond.

Gale narrowed his eyes at Owen, even if his lips remained upcurved in a grin. "I was just reminding you of the inherent dangerous of improvised melee weapons, but it looks like the crowd is free of beam weapons, according to my scan."

Checking the impulse to shush Owen in a manner that would do any librarian proud, Gale tilted his head and listened to the crowd. "They...either don't seem to have noticed us, or if they have, they don't particularly seem to care," he said. "What do you say to investigating just a little closer?"

Owen closed his tricorder and put it away. He nodded at the suggestion and began to move down the hall. The lighting improved as they got closer, and the sound increased. "I have a theory. Those aren't the voices of people getting ready to attack."

Within moments, they were the open doorway to a room full of tables and electronic display boards. People of varying origins were huddled around each other, cheering or cursing. No one was looking their way. "That's the sound of people having fun, Lieutenant."

"It's....a casino," Gale said, shaking his head in wonder and not a bit of pride in the ingenuity - in addition to siphoned power - that must have gone into all of this. "And judging by the sound of it, one that could rival Quark's on DS9 at that."

Gale put his own tricorder away, watching the scene with a wistful expression. "I'm not much of a gambling man - at least with money. The dice seldom roll in my favor." He tilted his head and turned to Owen. "What about you?"

"I've been to a real casino once, on Risa, but didn't spend much time there. Put some credits down on some game I didn't fully understand, lost, and decided I was more of a beach person," Owen admitted. His eyes scanned the room looking for any sign of trouble as they stepped a few meters further in. He chuckled, glancing over at Trill. "We did have a small group of officers on Rhea that played poker every week. I was asked once to fill in for someone on shore leave. So terrible at it, I wasn't asked back."

Gale failed to suppress a low, hearty chuckle at the other lieutenant's stories. "Some of my crewmates on the Chionthar, my first ship, banned me from the beach on Risa after I tried to enlighten them with what I thought was an educational AND entertaining talk on the particular minerals that gave the sand such luster. I just found a different beach."

One of the beings engaged in what looked and sounded like dabo groaned and held his head in his hands. "Oooof. You would think that if you were, indeed, terrible, you'd have been easier to beat and worth having around." Gale shrugged lightly. "At least that's how I think I stayed in the Mirar's mahjong table as long as I did. Either that or my cooking."

Owen smiled at the story. He was still focused on the room, trying to enumerate in his head the code violations for the report that would need to be filed. "I suppose it was because I kept asking too many questions. Back then I was a scientist as well. Quite good, actually. I was a .... stellar cartographer. See, I can make puns too."

"Oh ho!" Gale's laugh was perhaps louder than it should have been, but maybe it would be lost in the din of the room. "I have sorely pun-derestimated you, it seems." He filed this bit of knowledge away, and hoped this wouldn't be his only mission with the gruff yet warm-in-his own way operations officer.

"And no matter how much yellow is in your uniform now, you never stop being a scientist," the Trill added. "You'll always be a bit blue at heart." Clearing his throat, Gale looked around the scene. "Any thoughts on ways we could encourage this operation to move upstairs and fulfill the station's need for fun without the power tap?"



"I think at this point it's not yet our job to shut it down without some security backup and the decision to move it to a legitimate space is probably best left for the Commander," Owen replied as his gaze seemed to settle on a simple game, it looked similar to roulette but with a holographic wheel turned on its end. "I mean, I could even see a strategic advantage to keeping it here... just making it safer. Not legitimate, technically, but... perhaps valuable for other reasons."

He motioned to the wheel. "Perhaps one round just, you know, to check it out?"

"Sorry - this is technically my first away mission on the Firebird, and I think my enthusiasm, as usual, might be getting away with me," Gale said, ducking his head in a gesture of contrition. "But I see what you mean about the benefits, perhaps, of leaving things be. Safer, yes, of course, but there is something in having a place like this. A refuge against everything that your life that isn't." Gale's voice dropped a timbre on the last sentence, and there was an ache as he hoped, not for the first time, that this new ship might be that place for him.

But, best not to dwell on that, especially with such a company at hand. The Trill's face brightened as he looked towards the games Owen indicated. "Oh, why not," he said, letting himself break into a grin. "We'd be poor scientists if we left such key research not taken."

The woman running the large spinning wheel game had seductive eyes with bold lashes and thick eyeliner. She locked her gaze upon the pair of officers from behind a beaded veil that matched the crystal-like beads of her red, form-fitted dress. Like a tractor beam guiding a craft to safety, she beaconed to them to take a seat with a flourish of her carefully manicured fingers. The wheel itself was brightly lit and bore similarities to roulette and dabo. It consisted of 60 segments, each marked by a different symbol.

An automated voice explained the rules of the game, helpfully translated to Federation Standard for their benefit. "Welcome to The Quantum Wheel," it said in a cheerful male tone. "Players can make simple bets on a single glyph, a field bet on a group of symbols based on their color or element, a quantum shift bet on whether or not a quantum event will shift the outcome of the game mid-spin, or a double impact bet where players bet on two symbols landing consecutively within a single spin cycle."

The voice continued to drone on about the quantum dice determining the probability of a quantum event, the two spinning phases of the betting cycle, and how the payouts worked, some of which blurred into the background noise of the casino and were harder to hear. Payouts seemed to range from 10:1 for common symbols and 50:1 for rarer ones, field bets at 4:1, double impact bets being the most profitable (and unlikely) at 100:1.

Owen strained to hear all of the instructions over the background chatter and pings of the other stations, but he thought he'd heard enough of it to garner a general understanding and a chance with the small amount of latinum that he'd brought with him. He pulled a strip from his satchel. Latinum wasn't a standard Starfleet investigatory tool, but he'd been to the station enough times to know that sometimes you needed it when you interacted in certain situations, like food and entertainment. "Did you bring some?" he asked Gale.

Gale grinned as he settled next to Owen, his brain already trying to plan his first bet. Needless to say, the game wasn't familiar to him, but the rules, while considerable, weren't overcomplicated. And, he assumed, the game was likely not rigged in their favor. But, he could still have fun even if he lost the bit of latinum he'd brought with him.

"When I mentioned I was going to the station, one of the other science officers was kind enough to mention I might want hard currency if things went overlong and we wanted food or drink." The Trill pulled out a strip of his own, watching it glint in the low light. "He was also kind enough to offer a few strips of latinum in exchange for picking up his night shifts for a week," he added, as his smile turned into a grimace.

"So, let's make this impending sleeplessness worth it," Gale said, tapping the strip of latinum to his chin. "I think I'd like to try a field bet first to see if I can have a slightly larger amount of money to lose."

"The safest bet is usually the right one," Owen chuckled quietly and thought for a moment, studying the board laid out in front of them that mirrored the symbols and colors on the wheel. "Except in money and love, Or at least that's what I heard once?" he added with a wry questioning tone before putting down the strip of latinum on the brightly lit symbol for quantum shift. "I don't have luck in either of those areas anyway."

Gale raised an eyebrow as he placed a strip of latinum on top one of the fields, purple and with a sort of swirling motif that matched the corresponding glyphs. "I haven't had as much luck with either. Not so much with money - Trill has been post-scarcity for generations, and my parents weren't exceptions. Love, however.."

There was a far away look in Gale's dark eyes for a moment as his fingers rubbed at that light mark near his eyes, then wandered down to just beneath his collarbones. "I took quite the gamble, and for at least a while I seemed to win but.." He shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. "Just another thing that slipped away. So you are in good - if that's the way to put it - company."

"Such is the life of an officer in Starfleet, I suppose," Owen said, not to dismiss but to perhaps commiserate. He didn't focus long on Gale's expression but recognized the emotions somewhere in there and went back to watching the seductive woman as she began the game cycle with the flick of her dainty, bejeweled wrist.

A pair of oddly shaped dice that seemed physically impractical began spinning in an artificially-generated gravity well. Their distinct shapes along with the unique physics of the micro-anomaly seemed to work together somehow as they spun sensationally in the air, looping high over the table a few times before landing with soft clinking noises as they tumbled. The symbols illuminated, and a pleasant voice from the wheel announced that the quantum shift would be in play this round. The corresponding symbol in the center of the wheel illuminated in gold to reflect that point.

The large wheel shimmered, briefly illuminating each silvery symbol in glowing blue light before beginning to rotate. The rotation was slow and mesmerizing at first but picked up speed quickly. The quantum symbol in the center of the wheel pulsed and a few symbols randomly shifted, or maybe exchanged places with each other. There was so much to watch it was almost impossible to catch everything.

Watching the dizzying numbers pulse in and out was both mesmerizing and headache-inducing. "I have a dear friend who's a physicist who would have us here all night trying to figure out the science of this game until we were hauled out by someone large and muscular," Gale said, tipping his head as the quantum shift came into play. "Though she's not shy about using her claws."

Finally, the symbol settled into something blue and wheel-shaped, and it was Gale's turn to groan - good-naturedly - as his strip of latinum was whisked into the attractive woman's hands. "Ahh well. Thankfully there were plenty of delightful if non-monetary victories this evening, which no doubt will sustain me when I can barely keep my eyes open on those night shifts." And Gale's face was probably aglow with happiness - this was the most enjoyable outing he'd had in far too long.

Owen held out hope when the quantum shift was put into play but the hope quickly fleeted when his bet, too, was swiped away almost magically. "Ah, well," he resigned with a smirk. "This report should be a fun one to write."

[OFF]

Lieutenant Owen Woodhouse
Chief Operations Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298


Lieutenant Gale Deekros
Science Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

 

RSS Feed

Comments (2)