Chapter Text
Adaru Prime, a temperate terrestrial world in an eponymous system, further located within the Xarantine Sector of the Beta Quadrant, had long functioned as a nexus of mercantile activity considered both legal and illegal under the laws of the United Federation. Thus, it was quite fortunate for the powers that be on the planet that they were so far able to maintain non-affiliation status from their neighbors and beyond. Despite initially having been colonized by the Klingons a little over three hundred years ago, the formerly unpopulated world alongside its more savvy and cutthroat business owners and clientele now all flourished under the watchful jurisdiction of the Adaru Independent Economic Zone.
A well-funded private security force alongside various orbital defense satellites served to keep the peace, and of course maintain independence in a constant vigil. While commercial activity banned by their neighbors was both permitted and encouraged, those who reigned over the free planet recognized the need to prevent outright thievery, murders, and of course kidnappings, lest their profit margins suffer as a result.
Geographically speaking, Adaru Prime featured towering purple-grey mountain ridges and cliff faces, broken up by wide valleys and deep canyons with a plethora of beautiful lakes and rivers, respectively. Of course all of this was typically overlooked courtesy of the goings on in the assortment of cities and towns that dotted the surface.
Take for example the fact that a little over two standard weeks ago, a tip had reached the Federation's Diplomatic Service from their Klingon counterpart. Reportedly, a starship parts dealer in the lower city of Dalervais, the largest metropolis on the planet, had come into possession of hull plating from a historic Starfleet vessel lost in battle in the Narendra Sector nearly forty years ago. It was this unexpected development that led to the California-class support ship USS Cerritos being dispatched to verify the truth of this claim. Her newly-minted captain elected to take a small team down to the surface to investigate himself, and he graciously allowed the rest of his crew the night off.
Both of his co-provisional first officers were making use of this opportunity. To say their newfound responsibilities had been cutting into their alone time would have been an understatement.
"I think there may be a chance I'm a bit overdressed," Brad Boimler admitted as he walked with his paramour down a street side in the upper city of Dalervais, seeing his fashion choices for the evening certainly weren't mirrored in any of the people around them.
"You think? If only you'd listened to your smoking hot and brilliant date," Beckett Mariner teased, looping one arm around his as they neared their destination. They got a handful of looks from passers-by, but she didn't care.
The man on her arm eyed her with a fond look even as he complained, "You told me it was light formal! How was I supposed to know you didn't know what that means?"
"I'll have you know I know exactly what it means," she retorted, grinning, then countering with an equally fond look directed his way, "How was I supposed to know I'd be the only one of us selecting clothing options from this century? And at least mine is a complete ensemble, while you're wearing an amalgamation."
"Hey, turtlenecks are snug and blazers are styling! I went for a mixture of practical and aesthetically pleasing."
"Whatever you say, but my point here is you are solely at fault for your attire this evening, my dearest Bradward."
Their individual clothing choices were decidedly different in terms of style, but rather close in color coordination. Boimler had opted to dress comfortably and wore a turtleneck that was a shade of deep purple or orchid in color. This was accented by the blazer and matching suit pants he wore that were both a darker shade, palatinate. He also wore a pair of formal shoes that were black, and a belt to match. Mariner, meanwhile, decided to go with the less practical but more revealing 'club chic' ensemble she'd replicated during her trip to Orion about a year ago. This notably included a gold choker, sleeveless violet crop top, plum short shorts, thigh-high stockings, and a matching combination of royal blue shin boots and belt with a gold buckle. She'd been delighted at the reaction her outfit choice elicited out of her paramour when they met up at the ship's lounge.
It was only in hindsight, of course, that she realized maybe her fondness for him had a role in the color scheme.
After their return from Risa where they celebrated their one month anniversary three months ago, the aspiring captain continued to demonstrate his strong commitment to her in this next stage of their relationship. He still meticulously planned out each and every one of his daily schedules so he'd have the most time possible with her whenever they synced up their break times. In addition, he spent numerous hours planning and programming various holodeck scenarios for date nights, and had a similar approach to shore leave with her. This was all notably on top of other gestures showing her just how much he cared. He'd even gone out of his way to support her however he could during her time of the month whenever it manifested, dutifully replicating her whatever she asked for at any hour without question.
It was almost overwhelming at times, just how good her favorite person was to her. The former longtime ensign was afraid she'd always be keeping up, but at least that depressing train of thought was frequently overshadowed by the fact she was terrified of doing something, anything, that could derail them. After she'd spent the better part of the last decade keeping people away at arm's length, allowing herself to love and be loved were both still unfamiliar territory for her. But there was clarity ever-present amidst all the uncertainty; what she felt for him, and what she knew he felt for her. Brad Boimler was her anchor, keeping her grounded and steady throughout the turbulence of her life these last few years, even before either of them realized just how much they meant to each other. Beckett Mariner took previous advice to heart, and found her trust in him was enough even if she couldn't fully trust herself. That thought had kept her more ruinous thoughts and impulses at bay, usually, and for now.
His voice brought her focus back to the present, "Sooo, since, you've been here before, tell me, do you think there's actually a chance one of the locals has it? A piece of the Enterprise-C?"
She seemed to consider it for a second, before answering with a shrug, "Anything's possible, and there are definitely enough shady characters on this rock with the know-how and the means to acquire most anything imaginable. Still, I guess ultimately it'll be up to our ol' boy Ransom to decide whether it's legit or not."
"Glad I'm not making that call," Boimler admitted with a chuckle.
"Very much seconded," Mariner concurred, while their destination finally came into view as they rounded a street corner. She tugged on his arm and announced with an enthusiastic grin, "And we're here! The Blade and Barrel!"
The duo alternated each week selecting the venue for date night, and tonight, it was her turn. The former longtime ensign chose what was, according to her, the 'most lit spot' in the entire city. It was certainly brightly illuminated on the exterior thanks to a plethora of holo-neon signage and art, the former in some alien language Boimler didn't immediately recognize. The latter alternated between silhouettes of various dancers, drinks, and a knife being pulled from a storage barrel placed directly over the entrance archway, obviously. The exterior also notably featured a distinct lack of windows on the street level, he noted somewhat anxiously. Two brawny employees, an Andorian plus a Kzinti, stood just outside the front doors. No doubt they were working as bouncers. A long line of people waiting to get in told him straight away entry would not come easily.
"So, then, how do you expect us to get inside?" he inquired with his date, mentally venturing an educated guess as to her answer.
Sure enough, "Gimme a sec, Boims. I make these plans up as I go along," she reminded him with a half-grin, nudging him gently, "And I know you love that about me."
"I love you," he corrected, once again glancing at her fondly, "And your judgement is usually on the mark, I will concede. Probably at least seventy percent of the time. Probably."
She feigned a gasp in mock offense, "Bradward! It's more like ninety percent of the time."
"Seventy five, and not a percentile higher," he countered, delighting in her playful smirk. The classic repartee between them had not changed all that much since they began dating. If anything, really, delving into the next stage in their relationship had just given them more to talk about as they became even more familiar with each other, inside and out. It was yet further evidence that being best friends and more weren't mutually exclusive. Eventually, the aspiring captain continued, "Okay, but for real, how are we getting inside?"
"Perhaps I can assist."
The duo shifted their focus in the direction of the suave, masculine voice behind them, and upon turning around, Mariner's eyes widened as the familiarity set in. She laughed once in disbelief, visibly surprised, "Wait, Shando? Shan'doren Vazra?"
"So, then my eyes aren't decieving me," the Orion remarked, chuckling twice and looking her over. The male was about an average height for his species, had a deep, kelly green skintone alongside a neatly styled head of dark black hair with light face stubble. A single scar ran across his left cheek, an inch or so below his eye; both of the latter were a deep shade of viridian. Behind him stood a small entourage, all men, two fellow Orions and a Gorn. They all wore similar getups but had jackets instead. He further added, wagging his brows with a lewd smirk, "I thought I recognized you from behind, Becky Mariner."
The woman in question visibly blushed at that comment, correcting, "I'm going by Beckett, now."
"Ahem!" Boimler cleared his throat loudly, immediately drawing the attention to him. He gave an unimpressed look at Mariner and followed that up with a light scowl directed at the other man, actually fairly restrained on his part given the situation.
His paramour reddened further, more so this time in shame than anything else. She mentally berated herself, "Oh, shit. Real smooth there, you p'takh!" Here she was taking her new beau, her favorite person, on a night out and she was actually letting herself get flustered by an old fling. The former longtime ensign idly wondered if this was something that happened to other people, as again, her own experience on this front was sorely lacking. But she wasn't tactless; she knew she'd just been a bad girlfriend. She hastily corrected course.
While giving the aspiring captain an apologetic look, she quickly returned to his side and threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close as she properly introduced him, "Shando, meet Brad Boimler, longtime bestie and nowadays, because he's such a glutton for punishment, my new babe!"
The other junior lieutenant couldn't resist cracking a smile as she grinned at him, her face now mere inches from his blushing one once more. Words failed him at that moment, so when he glanced back at the Orion, he merely raised a hand and waved once. It was a cordial enough acknowledgement given preceeding events.
Shan'doren appeared to study the couple briefly, a hint of skepticism on his features as he arched a brow. Rather than voice it, he regarded them with a smirk that unsettled the Human male and gave a snap of his fingers, telling the bouncers, "You two, I've decided this woman and her next mistake are with me. Let em' on in!"
Both aliens gave silent nods and stepped off to the side without question. This piqued Boimler's interest; between the group of rough-looking company that toed the line behind them, and the willingness of two hired tough guys to play ball, it was clear this Orion had at least some influence in the area. He was obviously irritated at the insulting remark, but chose to disregard it for the time being.
The club's interior was about what he expected it to be, with a large dance floor populated by a crowd of dancing patrons who moved to a steady beat amidst flashing lights. A well-lit bar with what appeared to be a wide assortment of cheap liquor and more expensive hard drinks was built into the far wall opposite of the entrance. It was almost fully occupied with more patrons sitting on stools along the counter. Various sitting areas were scattered throughout along the other three walls, including lounge options along with more traditional tables and booths. The chairs stood bolted to the floor for obvious reasons.
"Hey, much appreciated, Shando. Boims and I definitely owe you one," the former longtime ensign offered thanks while keeping the aspiring captain close on her arm.
With his entourage in tow, the suave n'er do-well looked her over once more before remarking with a sly grin and both hands in his coat pockets, "You could've bribed them, I'm sure, but I know you hate to part with any of your contraband," they both shared a laugh at an old memory before he waved her off, "Now, I'm here on business, so I'll be attending to that, but it was certainly nice seeing you again. Very nice."
"Likewise," Mariner regarded him with a grin of her own, and they exchanged a fist bump before going their separate ways. All the while, the young man on her arm watched the spectacle with a flat brow and a decidedly unamused look.
A short while later, once the duo found a corner booth tucked away from the dance floor and the exact moment they were seated, Boimler pointed over his shoulder and inquired, "So, what's your story with 'Crude and Rude,' back there?"
Mariner attempted to play it off, waving a dissmissive hand and giving the condensed version, "He and I met several years ago. It was very close to the end of my tour on Deep Space 9, but it wasn't anything serious, just a fling," and then she shrugged, as if to enunciate the point, adding, "It was over after a weekend or so."
The aspiring captain frowned, sensing that there must be more to it than that. He decided against pressing the matter and instead quipped, leaning back into the seat and folding his arms, "Sure doesn't seem like he got the message. You never mentioned asses were one of your types."
"And you sure weren't helping matters with the bastard, either," his mind further supplied in her direction, but he soon decided against voicing it to her. His brows furrowed, nonetheless.
"Bad boys, Brad," the former longtime ensign corrected, herself frowning at where she knew this conversation was going. But she soon found a new angle to work with and switched things up, smirking towards her longtime cha'dich, "Speaking of 'types,' I'd honestly never pegged you for the jealous variety."
Boimler was unable to stop the tinge of pink that formed on his cheeks, and he huffed indignantly while averting his gaze from hers, contesting, "I am not jealous, I just really believe you could've done better, is all."
"Truthfully, I was a wreck back then, Boims," Mariner told him, suddenly serious, drawing his attention back to her. A pained look took shape on her features, and she implored with him to let this go without her having to go into detail, adding, "Shando was a temporary distraction, nothing more."
Almost instantly, the tables turned, and the young man seated across from her felt low, now mentally admonishing himself, "Of course! The Dominion War was in full swing while Mariner was at Deep Space 9! Ugh! Idiot!" It obviously went without saying the thought of her and that thug together didn't sit well with him at all, but given the context, he felt his bitter feelings about the matter ebb away somewhat.
Her gaze had become downcast, but she immediately looked up at him again when she saw him reach across the table and felt him gently place a hand atop her own. She quickly recognized a rueful smile on his face, and he told her as softly as he could over the sounds of the club, "I'm sorry, Mare-Bear. This is dumb; I won't let it ruin our night."
She gave him a warm smile, grateful he understood. It made his heart flutter. Soon, that smile morphed into another grin as she informed him, "Sounds good, because I brought you here to show you a good time, and we're not leaving until it's mission accomplished!"
She used her free hand to slam a fist down on the table before raising her other arm up to draw the attention of someone from the server staff. Unfortunately for them, a short distance away from where he sat in a booth with his entourage, it had also caught Shan'doren's notice.
Through the dancing crowds, the Orion pirate eyed his ex-fling intently.
All the while, a very considerable distance away in the Celes Sector of the Beta Quadrant, things were going more or less routine aboard Starbase 80. The aging and neglected station had received some much-needed upgrades and in-depth maintenance since being repurposed and towed to the multi-dimensional rift, but this work was far from completed.
It was inside the station, within a spruced up office room that Alonzo J. Freeman shared with his wife, that the rear admiral in question was typing up a report on a decidedly dated computer. He had just about completed his task when Carol Freeman entered, visibly frustrated. The former commanding officer of the Cerritos held at her side a PADD that was equally dated; this particular model would have been a more common sight on fleet ships during the 2340's.
Setting his work aside for the moment, her husband quickly surmised what must be the problem, "I guess the inventory officers had bad news for you downstairs?"
She huffed before handing him the PADD, exclaiming, "Roughly half the list of things I asked for on the supply shipment that just came in was rejected! Starfleet wants us to put this heap of junk to good use exploring whatever's in that fissure but won't give us what we need to make that happen!"
"As we now know, due to all the high tachyon emissions that come out of the rift, command has been very selective about what they allow to be integrated into our operations, here," the admiral reasoned with a frown, looking over the PADD for himself, wanting to check what was missing.
The captain snorted derisively, folding her arms across her chest with a huff, "A convenient excuse." She then let out a frustrated sigh and took a seat before continuing, "I'll have to confer with Kassia about this. As much as I don't like patch-jobs, the woman's definitely a wiz at keeping this place together."
Her husband offered her a reassuring smile as he looked up and conveyed some good news, "At least the replacement parts for the life support filters arrived with this shipment. We shouldn't have to worry about that for a while, now."
Carol responded with a half-smile and a slight chuckle, "I can finally sleep easy at night, or easier."
And to that, Alonzo just couldn't help but feign offense, "You mean my being here hasn't been enough to make that happen?"
His wife quickly retorted with a grin, "Oh trust me, honey, without you here I'd be going insane and bringing everyone else on this station over the edge with me."
They both laughed together and shared fond looks. It was right then when the wall comm unit that was fitted adjacent to the turbolift started pinging rapidly, indicating the call was high priority. The captain wasted little time answering it, silently wondering about the nature of the call. The aging station was full of problems, but none over the last five months had been particularly urgent.
A masculine voice addressed them once the call was accepted, "Captain Freeman, Admiral Freeman! Are you there? This is Lieutenant Oteg in the communications hub."
Carol immediately answered, "We're both present. What's the situation, lieutenant?"
"A little over thirty seconds ago we started picking up an automated transmission that appears to be some kind of distress signal," the officer hurriedly explained, "Its source is the colony on Zenik, located probably a quarter of the way across the sector from our location."
The captain hastily turned to her husband, "Zo, pull up whatever you can find on this colony."
"Already on it!" was his response from his desk. Carol smiled just slightly despite the urgency of the situation; he was always astute even when thrown a curveball like this, and itwas especially true whenever they worked together. She then refocused on the comm unit.
"Lieutenant, what's the nature of this emergency? I need details."
"Unfortunately, captain, we can't gleam much from this signal by itself. It's just repeating an automated message indicating they're in distress on loop. We have coordinates but nothing further right now!"
"Understood, keep us posted," she further instructed, frowning in obvious dismay as their words sunk in.
"Yes, captain!"
Back on Adaru Prime and inside The Blade and Barrel, a feminine Ganotian server arrived at the booth with Mariner and Boimler's drinks, both of them ordered by the former with the promise that his wouldn't be too strong to start with. After the employee removed both beverages from a round carrying tray and set them down, the former longtime ensign grinned and tossed a coin at her date, asking, "Tip the nice lady, will you, Boims?"
The aspiring captain chuckled as he caught it and offered it to the server, who then accepted it graciously with their free hand and regarding both with an amused look.
"My thanks, Humans," they offered gratitude and then continued, "By the way, Mr. Boimler, is it?" they shifted focus to the young man and he nodded, "Someone's trying to contact you, so you should make your way up to the bar."
Both junior lieutenants wore puzzled looks for a moment, and Brad inquired, "Any idea who?"
The Ganotian shook her head, "Nope, I was merely told to send you on over. Anyway, you two enjoy yourselves."
"We will, don't worry, and don't you forget to do the same!" Mariner told them as they turned to leave, earning herself a smile and a nod. Returning focus to her boyfriend, she motioned over to the bar, "Guess you better go see what's up while I hold down the fort, here," she paused, before adding teasingly, raising her hand in a solemn pledge, "I promise you'll still have something to drink when you get back."
He chuckled again, sending her another warm smile under a soft gaze that set her own heart aflutter, "Oh, all right. Hopefully I won't be long."
"I'll be up there myself if you're not back in five minutes, babe," she informed him as a matter of fact, "Don't keep me waiting; this night's just getting started!"
As he stood to temporarily depart her company, his paramour found herself delighting in the cute little blush that formed on his face; she knew he liked it whenever she called him that.
"Be right back," her partner assured her, positively radiating in anticipation for the rest of their date. Even now and after all their time together, he still enjoyed just being alone with her. It warmed her heart yet again to know she had that effect on him, a pleasant sensation she hadn't known for a long time before they got together. She also noticed a few patrons glancing in his direction as Boimler disappeared into the crowd. They were all brief, appreciative looks, ones that Mariner couldn't fault any of them for. He never appeared to notice them, but she did.
The junior lieutenant had known long before getting involved with her best friend that he turned heads. From those women she'd seen practically throw themselves at him on the vineyard where he grew up to a few of her shipmates including Wendy and Anya, Beckett knew that Brad had a long list of potential dates, or just a fun weekend. Back then, the former longtime ensign hadn't known quite what to do with this knowledge, so she simply did what she did well at the time; either take benefit from a distraction or drink until she didn't have to think about it anymore. It was only in hindsight that she recognized why it had bothered her so much, and just why she felt relief when the aspiring captain remained single at her side after each of these ladies and their intentions became known to her.
Her primary motivation in coming here had been because she wanted to show him a good time in classic Mariner fashion, but she'd be a liar if she said the thought of showing him off just a bit never crossed her mind, either. Boimler was a sweet guy, funny often enough, kind, considerate, nice to look at, and she was happy when she was with him. That had all been true long before they started dating. She wouldn't ever think twice about having him on her arm, even if some former flings of hers couldn't see it. That was fine, because they didn't need to see it. That particular chapter of her life was over and done with, as far as she was concerned.
It was too bad that chapter wasn't done with her. Not entirely.
Beckett was still looking off in the direction Brad had departed, and so she visibly jumped in her seat when Shan'doren, without any preamble, abruptly plopped himself down across from her. She quickly caught herself, however, "What the hell, man? Don't sneak around like that!" she scolded, then half-joked after a moment, letting her gaze soften somewhat, "You're lucky I don't have a phaser on me."
The Orion pirate regarded her with another sly grin, leaning forward with n elbow on the table, resting his chin between the pad of his thumb and the side of an index finger. He remarked, studying her, "Back when we were more familiar with each other, you didn't startle so easily, Beckett. Don't tell me you've actually gone soft with that skinny little boy?"
The atmosphere had changed, at least for Beckett. Outside when they first met again, when Brad was present, she could simply have chalked up her ex-fling's behavior to some light ribbing. He'd done it often enough with her and others during their short time together on DS9. However, now, with her paramour absent, the junior lieutenant found she couldn't excuse any disparaging words directed his way.
"He is a man, Shando, believe it or not," she dryly corrected, wanting to convey without more words she would not tolerate further slander of her boyfriend. Still, she quickly added just to drive that point home, "And a good one, too. One of the absolute best I've ever known, actually."
The other man laughed once, "If you say so," he paused, considering his next words. He decided on prodding her a bit for more information, "Though, If I'm remembering this right, good wasn't exactly one of your types, at least back during our escapades. So, if you'll indulge me, my dear, what changed?"
Mariner appeared to consider that briefly. He obviously didn't need the full story, nor was he entitled to it. She soon settled on, "A lot has changed since my days on Deep Space 9, Shando. Don't go mistaking me, what you and I had was fun, but I'm in a better place, now, mentally speaking," she paused, observing while he arched a brow at that, clearly expecting her to elaborate. So she did, getting straight to the point, "I'm trying my hand at a real relationship with someone who means a great deal to me. Mono ay mono, understand?"
He grinned, pulling his head back and letting his arm rest again, "I believe I do; you think I'm overstepping my bounds."
She in-turn regarded him neutrally, "Well, yes, potentially. Did I misread you?" she couldn't exactly be certain, now that she gave it some thought. Time, she figured, could have changed him, too, just as easily.
But then the pirate removed any doubt and grabbed Boimler's drink to take a long swig, "Nope, that you didn't."
He was just as confident as ever, especially when he knew what or who he wanted. Mariner had already decided it wasn't nearly as charming now as it was back then.
"I think you should head back to your own booth, after you finish ordering a replacement of that," she quipped, motioning to the glass as he set it back down, now looking genuinely annoyed.
"Aw, c'mon, baby, don't be like that," he grinned again, daring to go further, "I just think someone like you can do better. A lot better."
Her annoyed expression instantly morphed into an unamused glare, "You don't know him, and more importantly you don't know me. Not like you think you do. Now make like subatomic particles do under pressure, and split."
He chuckled lowly, not at all in the comforting manner of her other half, "Pulling out some science jargon? Rolling with Starfleet hasn't done you any favors, either," he mused, then pressed as he too narrowed his gaze, "You poor girl, you're seriously gonna make me work for it this time, aren't you?"
As soon as she registered those words, she felt the foot of his boot tap her leg, very deliberately. Suddenly seeing red, she immediately went to slap him, but to her shock he caught her wrist, and that smug grin he wore remained when he once again eyed her up and down. She grit her teeth.
Mariner was about to demand he let her go, and raise her free hand to drive that point home. Or better yet, throw her drink at him, and then leap onto the table to get both her hands around his neck. However, just then, before those words could make it past her lips, she abruptly witnessed a clenched fist with a lighter skin tone than the both of them make contact with the side of Shan'doren's face.
Boimler was back.