Troubled Civilians, Problem Officers, and Aftermaths (RP Log)

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Roleplay Log
Characters:
Location:
08 May 2014
Promenade - Section A [Deep Space 9]
The main concourse on the large promenade surges with motion as military personnel and civilians flow in and out of shops and through the wide walk-way. Shops line the sides of the Promenade and solicitors stand against the walls, attempting to peddle their wares. Morn's Place dominates a large section of the main concourse with a large entrance. Station security is also located in this part of the Promenade, so to give the security personnel close access to the most problematic area of the station.


Vrillak is crossing the promenade. He's in no particular hurry. In his left hand he carries a bolt of some kind of fabric and may be hading for his shop.

Maguire wanders along the Promenade, seemingly engaged in a furious session of going nowhere in particular, which is actually pretty sedate in the grand scheme of things. He stops at one particular shop, looking through the door for a moment before he turns to continue his pacing. Spotting Vrillak crossing the Promenade, Maguire frowns slightly, his brow furrowing for the briefest of moments until he schools his face to neutrality. He quickens his pace to intercept the Cardassian tailor, "Excuse me, Mister Vrillak?"

Vrillak stops and turns. His expression is one of polite interest. "May I help you," he says in a cultured, polite manner?

Maguire tilts his head slightly, but then simply smiles and shakes his head, "Actually, I think I can help you. My name is CJ Maguire. I'm the dockmaster here on Deep Space 9." He frowns, an expression of general concern coming to his face, "I received a message from you the other day? What seems to be the issue?"

Vrillak smiles. "Ah, Dockmaster Maguire. Thank you for speaking with me." You would sense that he is pleased to run into you and while he is annoyed, he intends, possibly unlike other cargo runners, to treat you politely. "Well as I said in my missive, of late my docking here is complicated by scanning of my cargo. This is something of a new wrinkle, and so I had wondered if all cargo was being subjected to increased scanning. The officer on comms told me that it was random, but it's starting to happen a bit too regularly to be random. I wanted to speak with you about it."

Maguire smirks, then chuckles. Finally, he shakes his head, "Sorry. Calling me Dockmaster Maguire is like calling you Tailor Vrillak. It just sounds odd. If you absolutely must, you can call me Lieutenant or Mister. Either one'll do." He listens and listens well, entirely engaged throughout the whole statement of the situation. He then nods his head, "I see. Well, I can assure you of two things. I'll look into it, and it is entirely random. High frequency, but random."

Vrillak nods. "Thank you, Mr. Maguire. I appreciate your attention in the matter. It may help your staff to know that unlike other ships that frequent the station, I also live here and run a business here. I don't know," he says wryly, "whether that means I should be scanned less or even more, but it's something of note. You know," he says in a somewhat more confidential tone, 'I wondered if perhaps, given the recent tensions with the Cardassians, someone on night watch might have been ..." he lets that delicately trail off, but he's definitely wondering if these less than random scans of late may be on account of his being a Cardassian. He thinks it at least possible.

Carey arrives from Promenade - Section C.

Vrillak is standing at his ease, a bolt of silk over one arm, having a conversation with Maguire about something or other.

Carey enters this section of the promenade at a fast walk, looking back over her shoulder at a persistent Ferengi vender whom she seems reluctant to completely turn her back to. "For the last time," she says over the general hubbub, "go find someone who cares. I am not interested. Better yet, take that junk and go sell it somewhere else." She rounds a corner and turns her annoyed frown into a smile, dropping her hands from her hips to her sides.

Maguire blinks, "All it means is you'll have to dock before you can go to your quarters. You residence here has no bearing on if you're scanned or not coming into Deep Space 9." He blinks once at the insinuation, tilting his head, "Are you saying what I think you're saying, Mister Vrillak?" He smiles, "Because I believe I just heard a glaring accusation that my staff is anything less than the best and brightest that Starfleet has to offer." His eyebrows furrow, "We were having such a productive conversation, Mister Vrillak. Please tell me I misheard you."

Vrillak smiles. If anything, his manner is even more charming, and he's not at all intimmidated by you or your manner, not that he assumes you to be trying to intimmidate. And he is still determined to remain polite. "A glaring accusation? Not at all. I believe you did indeed mishear, because when I want to make accusations, no one ever has to ask me for clarification." He shrugs and smiles, letting that go as though quite unimportant. "Well now," he concludes, still polite, "I've never served in Starfleet, but if you say they're the best and the brightest, I shall of course take you at your word. Meanwhile, I'll monitor the frequency of my cargo scans, and if they continue to be as systematic as they have started to become,, I'll let you know. Otherwise, I'll thank you again for your time, Mr. Maguire, and wish you a most pleasant day. "And," he adds, "do stop by my shop if ever you should want anything in the way of tailor-made clothing. Ktarian wool is going to be in season this year, I'm told."

Carey pauses near enough to overhear but not to intrude. Her brow furrows again. She's unimpressed, and doesn't bother hiding it as she watches the two men, her gaze coming to rest on Maguire. But after a moment, she smooths her face into bland impassivity that would be worthy of any Vulcan, and leans against the wall.

Maguire smiles kindly and shakes his head, "Not at all. You were pretty clear in your accusation and I gave you the out that you intelligently took. Thank you for that." He then shrugs, "Like I said, I'll look into it. If I had to hazard a guess though, based on the probably incorrect assumption that the scans aren't random, I would say your starship is having its cargo hold scanned to ensure that whatever is in it's hold is not unbalancing the loose formation of parts that you call a ship. The alternative is, of course, holding outside of the station's traffic pattern until such time as we can spare an Engineering crew to travel to your vessel for a physical inspection of structural integrity." He smiles, "I'm sure you can appreciate how long that would take." He then waves a hand, "At any rate, I'll look into for you but I can't guarantee anything. Starfleet and the Bajoran Defense Force maintain the right to scan any vessel looking to dock at Deep Space 9 for any reason. I don't see the wisdom in changing that policy now." He then adds, "Oh, ok. Have a nice day, Mister Vrillak. It was very nice seeing you again." He turns, looking to Carey now. He flashes her a quick smile, "Hello, Lieutenant. Congratulations, by the way."

Carey does not return the smile. She's a hair's breadth from glaring now. "Sir," she says brusquely.

Vrillak fields the man's seemingly nasty comments with grace and aplom. "The ship is a bit battered, admittedly, but such is the nature of secondhand equipment. I rather value my life, Mr. Maguire. I wouldn't entrust it to a ship that I didn't think would bring me back in one piece. Still, we'll leave discussions of starship design aside, since neither of us, sadly, is Giellun Tr'Sahehn."Again, the smile. He's not phased by you and thinks precious little of your professionalism. "In any case, I apprecaite the chance to have such a pleasant chat. Oh," he adds, "and if you see Colonel Ava, tell her I said hello."

Maguire looks back towards Vrillak, and and shrugs his shoulders, "I already said I based that on what is probably an erroneous assumption." He then nods his head, "Of course I will, Mister Vrillak, if I see Colonel Ava before you do." He then adds, "Have a good day." He looks towards Carey briefly, nodding his head before he angles to walk past Vrillak on his stroll of the Promenade.

Carey clenches her fists at her sides, then thrusts them into her pockets to hide them from view. She's unused to this kind of anger in herself, and feeling that discretion is the better part of valor, she moves off, her focus on keeping her cool. Before she turns into the next section, she glances back at Vrillak. Her features are still taut with carefully controlled anger, but her eyes widen with shock and apology as they meet his.

Promenade - Section B [Deep Space 9]
This part of the promenade is not quite as congested as the primary concourse, yet people course through the passages at a steady flow.


Vrillak arrives seconds after you do. He still appears quite at his ease, and he offers you a smile. "Hello, my dear. My apologies for being detained with an item of business when you came for me."

Carey turns and takes a breath, parting her lips to say something, then just blows the breath out again. "What the hell was that?" she finally says, more loudly than she should. "Best and brightest, my eye! If he's representing the best and brightest, I'd hate to think what the worst and most stupid are like!" She takes another deep breath and closes her eyes.

Vrillak smiles warmly and speaks charmingly. "He's a relatively junior officer who enjoys wielding what power he has over the civilians who are his main stock and trade," Vrillak assesses. "The only problem is that I don't intimmidate. I bet," he adds, "that if I'd been military, any military, or even," a smile, "if I'd been female, that little interaction might have gone differently."

"Oh, you bet it would have. Especially if you'd been female." Aliyah's voice is hard, but it trembles over the last sentence with the force of her unaccustomed fury. She pulls her hands back out of her pockets. They're still clenched so tightly that they're white at the knuckles. "He flirted with me the other day, on and on and on! I wonder how many people he fools into believing he's a charming guy, and he's really a complete..." She breaks off at the beginning of a very unflattering Betazoid term indeed.

Vrillak reaches for one of your trembling hands. "Flirting with you? Well at least he has good taste." He smiles. "As long as he does his job, that's what matters to me. If I have developing problems, I'll speak with Colonel Ava. I find her to be a most reasonable and professional individual. But really, don't scan my cargo holds on three out of three occasions and then insult my intelligence by telling me it's random. I'll be watching."

Carey lets you take her hand and unfurls her clenched fingers to wrap them around yours with a tremulous sigh. "He doesn't have good taste," she says more quietly. "He doesn't have any taste at all. Except for female appearance and female equipment." Now that the rage is fading, she looks and sounds sad, and even shocked by such feelings in herself. She steps closer and lowers her voice even further. "Do you get that a lot?"

Vrillak smiles. "Get what, female equipment? No, yours is the only equipment I'm interested in,' he says confidentially with a teasing smile.

Carey tries to muster a smile in return. Her lips obey her wish, but it doesn't touch her eyes. "That kind of treatment," she clarifies.

Vrillak shrugs. "It's mostly a matter of looks, a glance here, a glare there. I don't pay attention. Though it increased during the recent tensions in the Valo system."

Carey's face puckers in a deep, sad frown. She squeezes your hand but doesn't, or can't, say anything.

Vrillak slips an arm around you. "What is it, my dear," he says leading you to a small table for two and pulling out a chair for you. "You're quite upset."

Carey sits slowly. "I...don't know," she says in a strained voice. "Other than the fact that I just watched a superior be incredibly rude to a civilian and could do nothing about it at all."

Vrillak smiles. "Of course you can, if you wanted," he says. He takes a pair of teas from a passing vender cart.

"I don't see it," she says bleakly. "I could go to Colonel Ava, maybe. But I can see problems with that."

You say, "like what"

"Like the fact that Lieutenant Maguire has been here longer than I have and can charm anyone he puts his mind to, especially any woman."

Vrillak thinks about that. "And Colonel Ava has been here much longer and, while she is unfailingly polite to everyone, isn't so easily charmed as all that. If you took your concern to her as a fellow officer, I'm certain you'd get a hearing." He shrugs. "If you want to."

Carey props her elbows on the table and leans her head on her hands. "It would be better if I'd been there for the whole thing," she mutters glumly. "I believe what you say, of course, and I saw what he did, but..." She lets it trail off and sighs. "But you can bet I'll be watching him from now on," she adds, her voice hardening again.

Vrillak shrugs. "You didn't miss much. It started," and he narrates the conversation up to the point of your arrival.

Carey shakes her head. "He was just rude. Especially about the ship. I mean, I'd love for the thing to be repaired, but he doesn't realize how fortunate he is as a Starfleet officer to never have to worry about that stuff. If he were on a ship, and it were to be damaged, all he would have to do is go somewhere for repairs. But when you don't have that kind of support...it's hard. Something on Bailey's ship seemed to be broken down all the time because the money to keep up with the maintenance just wasn't there."

Vrillak shrugs. "Like I said, he enjoys the exercise of what authority he does have, and as he advances in rank, that'll continue to increase."

"Good gods," Aliyah says in a low voice, "if I ever find myself under him directly, I'll resign."

Vrillak chuckles. "Would you indeed," he murmurs quietly.

Carey nods. "I would."

Vrillak smiles. "Well, hopefully it won't come to that." He sips his tea and watches the passersby on the promenade.

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