Edge of the Wheel

Posted on Wed Sep 18th, 2024 @ 7:09pm by Captain Malcom Llwyedd & Lieutenant Owen Woodhouse
Edited on on Wed Sep 18th, 2024 @ 7:44pm

2,042 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Interlude 1 Gamma Quadrant
Location: DS18

Lieutenant Owen Woodhouse wasn't sure what brought him back to the promenade of Deep Space 18 at this late hour. People-watching or curiosity, maybe. There was certainly enough new culture and mystique emerging from the station's diverse population to keep a curious mind engaged. He was in his yellow-trimmed Starfleet uniform, which made him very conspicuous and he was acutely conscious of the eyes that followed him as he passed by the few others up at this hour conducting business here.

He ambled casually past the empty storefront near section 72 when he remembered the casino and its hidden entrance off the service access just ahead. It had been a few days since he and Gale had stumbled upon the illegal establishment and lost a few slips of latinum to a game of chance. In the meantime, he'd filed his reports on its presence and was waiting for command or security to make any further investigations or disseminate orders about taking it down or legitimizing it.

Owen found himself turning into the service corridor and accessing the hidden panel to reveal the front entrance to the casino. As he stepped inside, the dim light and familiar hum greeted him once again. The space was quieter than before, the low murmur of voices and clinking glasses added to a sort of clandestine feel.

Then he saw her. The woman from the wheel game, dressed in a striking crimson gown that shimmered subtly in the low light. He almost didn't recognize her at first without her beaded veil, but there was no mistaking her uniqueness in this environment. Her eyes found his immediately as if she had been expecting him.

"Lieutenant," she greeted smoothly, stepping toward him with an elegant grace. Her voice was warm, almost welcoming, yet it carried an undertone of knowing. "Back so soon?"

She smiled, not too close, but just close enough. "What brings you here tonight?" she asked lightly, her gaze unwavering.

Owen was surprised by her voice since she hadn't spoken at all the last time he had visited. He wasn't too keen on losing another slip of latinum this time, but the curiosity of the place and the people inside was a lot to keep contained. He blushed a bit at the woman's approach and scratched a spot on his face that itched. He seemed uncomfortable. "Oh," he said, trying to be cool about the interaction. His arms crossed, subconsciously protective. "I guess just seeing how things are going. You know the illegal power taps are raising some concerns."

The woman’s smile widened, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "Concerns?" she echoed, as if the word amused her. She took a step closer, her movements smooth and deliberate. "This station runs on concerns, Lieutenant. What matters is how we handle them."

Her gaze remained locked on his, her voice low and inviting. "But I don’t see a man like you coming here just to talk about power taps." She let the silence hang for a moment, then added, "Why not sit, and relax? There's more to this place than you’ve seen."

With a soft chuckle, she gestured to one of the nearby tables. "After all, we both know you're not here to shut me down."

Owen glanced at the table, then back to the exotic alien femme. "A man like me?" he parroted curiously, wondering about who she was and what she was doing here. She moved like she owned the place. "How would you know what I'm here to do?" he laid the challenge out carefully, not having any great backup plan if this went sideways.

The woman’s smile turned knowing, her violet eyes glinting as she tilted her head slightly. "I have a talent for reading people," she said softly, her voice smooth as silk. "And you, Lieutenant, aren’t the kind of man to rush into shutting things down without understanding the full picture."

She stepped just a bit closer, her gaze unwavering. "I watch everything that happens here. And I’ve been watching you. You’re curious, intrigued by this place... by me."

Her tone remained light, but there was a hint of challenge in her words now. "So, why not indulge that curiosity? Have a seat, and maybe I'll tell you more about what I do here."

"Hmm," Owen pondered the invitation for a second, applying the logic that it couldn't hurt to have a dialog and understanding before acting was a key tenant of Starfleet principles. He gave a singular nod of ascent and followed her shapely form to the table that she'd previously pointed out.

"Telepathic?" he asked simply as he waited for her to seat herself and then took the chair across from her on the small table. He looked up at her, trying to carefully figure out what she was, what her business was, what her end game was.

The woman settled gracefully into her chair, her every movement controlled and elegant. "No," she replied with a soft chuckle, "not telepathic. Just observant."

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table, her fingers lightly clasped. "People reveal more than they think, Lieutenant. Body language, intent… all of it speaks volumes if you know how to listen."

Her eyes held his as she spoke, sizing him up. "As for what I am... let's just say I have a particular set of skills. This place?" She gestured subtly to the room around them. "It’s more than just a casino. It’s a gateway. And you, whether you know it or not, are standing at its threshold."

Her smile softened, but there was still something dangerous behind her gaze. "But first, tell me. what do you think I am?"

This was not a game Owen was prepared to play, nor wanted any part of playing. His eyes left her and swept casually around the room as he gave everything a good, scrutinizing, and sober look. "Well," he started as he took a deep breath. "Just as you've told me that this room is not just a casino, I suspect you are more than a wheel spinner. You're obviously very intelligent, and secretive. Probably cunning. Probably dealing in illicit trade, perhaps you're affiliated with some underground organization."

Two drinks were set down on the table before them and Owen paused, eyeing the swirling golden liquid still spinning inside with clear skepticism. He clearly would not partake. "But for all I actually know, you could be just a beauty pageant queen from some far-flung world with a talent for talking to people, getting them to spend money."

"Either of those close?" he asked, pushing the offered drink aside.

The woman’s smile widened as she listened, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her own untouched glass. "Clever," she mused, her eyes never leaving his. "You’re not as far off as you think."

She leaned back slightly, her posture relaxed but her gaze still sharp. "Yes, I’m more than just a wheel spinner, as you put it. And yes, there’s a network beneath the surface of this station—a network I control. Information, trade, influence." She let the words hang in the air for a moment, letting the weight of them sink in.

"But a beauty pageant queen?" She chuckled softly, tilting her head. "Flattering, but I’ve never needed to rely on appearances to get what I want. Power comes from much deeper places."

Her gaze flicked to the drink he’d pushed aside, her smile never faltering. "But you’re cautious. That’s good. Caution keeps you alive out here."

She picked up her own glass, swirling the liquid inside. "So, Lieutenant, now that we’ve laid a few cards on the table… what will you do with this knowledge?"

"For all you've told me, I know nothing more than I did the first time I was here," Owen shrugged, feigning a lightness of tone that was very thinly veiled but was certainly truthful.

"Let's start with your name? What kind of things do you bring on and off the station?" He asked, leaning forward a bit to mirror her posture as he connected his gaze with her impossibly deep, purple eyes that seemed to capture like a tractor beam.

The woman’s smile didn’t waver as Owen leaned in, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes -- amusement, perhaps, at his persistence. "Names are powerful things," she said softly, her voice taking on a more intimate tone. "But I suppose you’ve earned mine."

She took a slow sip from her glass before setting it down gently, her gaze never breaking from his. "Malixa," she offered, letting the name hang in the air like a secret. "And as for what I bring on and off the station? Let’s just say I specialize in moving things that are hard to come by. Items, information, sometimes people."

She leaned in slightly, mirroring his posture, her expression unreadable. "You’re still curious, aren’t you? That’s good. Curiosity leads to opportunity." Her lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "But not all answers come easily, Lieutenant. Some require... trust."

Owen's eyes narrowed a bit at her ask of trust. He slowly returned to a fully upright position in his chair, but he still watched her carefully for a tense moment. "Who do you work for?" he asked, genuinely curious but also now drilling for as much information for his follow-up report as possible.

Malixa’s smile tightened, a flicker of something dangerous crossing her features. "I don’t work for anyone, Lieutenant," she replied, her voice cool but firm. "I am the network. People like me don’t answer to others. We create the answers."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. "But if you push too hard, you might not like what you find." Her eyes gleamed, a subtle warning hidden in her gaze. "Some doors are better left closed."

"I suppose that's my cue to back off," Owen interpreted out loud. He was ready to stand up and leave, but something unanswered held him back. "Still," he pondered aloud, "I can't help but wonder how someone like you got wrapped up in all this," he motioned to the room around them. "Illegal trafficking, information trading, racketeering.... why? Surely you could put your talents to work solving the universe's problems instead of adding to them."

Malixa regarded him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "The universe’s problems aren’t so easily solved, Lieutenant," she said, her tone softer now, almost reflective. "People like me? We adapt to the hand we’re dealt. There’s no solving anything without control.... and control, well, it’s never as simple as you think."

She stood up gracefully, her eyes locking onto his one last time. "We’re not so different, you and I, Owen Woodhouse. Just playing on opposite sides of the board… for now." A faint smile touched her lips, leaving the rest unsaid.

With that, she turned and drifted away, her presence lingering even after she disappeared into the shadows of the casino.

Owen remained at the table for a moment after Malixa left. He wondered many things about the exotic woman, including how she knew his full name when he'd never mentioned it. He picked up the drink to look at it closer. What he would give to have some kind of analysis done on it.

You're paranoid now, he found himself dismissing the thoughts as he set the glass away again.

In that moment a shimmer of reflection caught his eye under where the drink had originally sat. He did a small double-take and then carefully picked up the metallic coin to examine it. It was emblazoned with imagery and words he didn't recognize. Clearly, it was meant for him to take, but why?

Owen stood up, pocketed the coin, and left to return to the ship with a few more answers about this place, but a whole lot of questions.

[OFF]

Lieutenant Owen Woodhouse
Chief Operations Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

 

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