Mayla's Offer:

"Alasha Maylla." The armored Headhunter nodded as he was guided in with a pair of massive Orion merchant guards. Lifting the bag on his belt before throwing it the lazily seated Orion, her sides draping over massive cushions, almost laying down even in the presence of the hitman seemed to be bordering near sleeping from the lax attitude she exuded.

The head was partially revealed as he tossed it, rolling to the center of the chamber, the Denobulan's tongue lazily rolled out of bloodless lips. Even with the grim display, the Syndicate Alasha didn't move in the slightest, only peeking momentarily at both the contractor and the objective he was hired for. The middle-aged woman pointed at one of the younger orion girls that served her, saying something quickly in their native language that skipped Ivan's translation unit, 'They must have a Babel Jammer.' Recalling that several languages could somehow leapfrog the Universal Translator, Orion wasn't one of them, so it stood to reason that they had activated a device to disable the abilities of Ivy's subdermal translation unit. The venerated Orion took a glimpse at Headhunter, eyes heavily wrinkled, robes of gilded thread hiding the matriarch's body, her form may have once had the grace of the youthful servants that surrounded her, answered every beck and whim, now neglected from a combination of time and the stress of her rank of Alasha, the golden raiment's hinting at budding obesity, something remarkably shameful for an Orion, whom near universally admired the perfection and beauty of the well-honed body, regardless of social ranking.

"J'hordak." Maylla finally verbally acknowledged Headhunter, using the title reserved for those Unmade specialists hired by the Syndicate, both an insult and warning, something that can be translated to 'one who merely hangs about'. While not entirely inaccurate for Ivy's position, it was laced with disrespect, showing how little desire she had of him to be in her presence. "You failed."

Headhunter had only been assigned this assignment through a member of her staff, the contractor had to acknowledge the fact with, "You know of my lack in eliminating all inside the base."

"The boy. Why didn't you kill him?" The servant of the Alasha spoke to briefly inquired in her superior's stead. "If no one complied with the death warrant, all inside were targets and were to be eliminated to the last."

Headhunter paused, sensing the tension to the massive orion males at his flanks, muscles not only made to show, but between the two of them could easily pick the human up and literally rip him in half. Down the middle if they were so inclined. Ivy heard many stories from Eustace of those unfortunates disrespectful to the various bosses or merchant-lords they were bound to and their grizzly deaths. "Kids ain't targets."

Maylla looked up and glared at Headhunter, before the servant continued with, "Nevertheless, the boy could potentially damage the standing of my mistress. While the father may have been banished from our organization, the child could still claim his own rights to vengeance if he were to be Witnessed as an adult and welcomed back into the fold."

"Revenge is a right to all those wronged." Headhunter rested his hand on where his pistol traditionally was housed, "You shouldn't worry too much. Worry in a decade or two."

Maylla, despite both her age and clear lack of physical refinement, stood up with a snap, pulled out the dagger on her robe's side and pressed the point firmly on Headhunter's throat, precisely on his adam's apple. "Your life is mine from this failure." The woman stated, it was without a hint of anger, threat or undue emotional turbulence of anykind, said as if it were a fact.

"Because my lone rule of not hurtin' kids?" Headhunter spoke calmly, but the added pressure from his voice-modulating filter inside his throat did make him worry that the blade would breach his insulation.

"Not only that, he has already been taken in by Starfleet. Seems that somehow he was able to attract the attention of a nearby starship, even for a Denobulan, we somehow doubt he would be able to know how to do so. He is firmly within the Federation's hands, maybe knowing his father's secrets and without the guidance of the Syndicate's codes of conduct when in such a situation." The servant stated, where Maylla stared unblinking at Ivy, looking for any excuse to bury the blade in his spine.

Headhunter didn't flinch as he said back, "You would expect a syndicate child to commit suicide rather than be captured by the Federation?"

"However," the servant ignored Headhunter's question, "you may redeem yourself."

The orion matriarch had taken the blade back from Ivy's neck, before calling out, "Ahp!"

Then, from another door hidden by the shadowy, dimly lit chamber, in entered another man, at first Headhunter thought it was your typical Klingon, but as he entered the light Ivy saw a green, earthy toned skin, the crest on his forehead, significantly smaller then he's seen before, and with long, straight hair tied back, and numerous golden wrings bejeweling his ears and nose. 'An orion-klingon mixbreed?' "This man will have the mission and will insure you carry it out." The servant concluded before she and the rest of those in the chamber, including the two massive hulks at Ivy's sides, leaving the matriarch and the newcomer alone with Headhunter.

"'etlh porgh." The mixbreed nodded towards Ivy as he walked to him, "It is an honor to meet you."

Headhunter nodded back and extended a hand to the man, noting both his simple dress of a vest and long, Klingon uniform trousers, "The honor is mine." The orion took his hand and shook it, "Now, what is the mission?"

The matriarch turned away from the pair, "Are you aware of the happenings of Lubak-Two? No? Well, the target is on the planet, whom is being held in Federation custody. The Syndicate has been tasked for the target's elimination. If you complete this, you will not only receive the payment of your botched job, I will give you a bonus of nearly thrice its worth."

'Shit, that might be just enough funding to overshoot my expected costs!' Ivan stared, "What's the target?"

"I know it," The half-alien, half… uh… other alien hybrid stated, "I am Hittam Ahp, and I will be as responsible of silencing the target as you, but only I will know of its description."

'She's majorly pissed because I couldn't kill a kid, now she not only buddies me up for a new project, but only he knows what he or she looks like? WAY beyond a coincidence.' "I'd rather you take my little fingers for my failure, and be poorer for it," Lifting his hand and to the orion before pointing to her sheathed dagger, "then risk a mission I knew so little about." 'I have Eustace to think about now, as little as that might be, he is now my responsibility.'

"Pah!" Hittam scoffed, "What's life without some risks here and there?" Resting his hand in a similar manner Headhunter head done so, hand on an empty holster. "We all need the money..."

'Red flags, red flags everywhere.' Ivy sighed, "Can I at least know what lies between the deadman to be and us?"

"Starfleet, some neutral-"

"No." Headhunter waved a hand sharply downwards, "I don't do anything involving Starfleet or the Federation." This rule was not only his but most of the Syndicate's, but they were made from very different elements. Ivy didn't want to step on Federation toes due to two factors: one, he didn't want to risk bringing the attention of Starfleet Intelligence in on his and Eustace's head, or worse, somehow gain the interest of being probed by the more… malevolent forces that hide within the government that most remain unaware of. Two, and by far the simplest, he knew they were the good guys, good people just doing what they can. They just wanted to explore, learn more about whatever and help people, they are creatures of peace and Ivy only respected them more for staying such the longer he was slumming in the grease pits of the quadrant. The orions though? When Starfleet came by the neighborhood investigating anything, they typically did it with the subtlety of a sledgehammer to the kisser, it scares away business, forces folk to go into hiding or leave the system entirely, often never to return, and one or both parties might cause an incident that forces Starfleet to intensify their presence, one basically hemorrhages possible and long established profit when the Feds are around. And yet, this Orion, only slightly more prestigious and respected then a mob boss might well risk all she owns and those possessions of her underlings and equals for an assassination mission? Headhunter stated, "He or she would be too heavily guarded, and even you would understand that no matter how much might you could hire, there'd be a very small chance of completing the contract, and everything to lose when it failed."

Hittam looked to the Alasha Maylla, before she nodded back to him, consenting as he explained, "That's right, we're using your failure to better reach another target, Starfleet is distracted, enough so that this mission might succeed with your help."

Headhunter hissed in distaste, causing a harsh, mechanical coo out of his modulator, "It's still very odd you'd risk pissing off the Federation, why not single out an officer or two where you need to go and try to blackmail or bribe them?"

"We tried that." Alasha sighed as she laid back down on her bed, "Our agents were nearly captured, one had committed suicide in order to escape interrogation. That was four months ago, and they have been on high alert in the system until now."

Headhunter stared the Alasha down, "Why?"

Hittam walked more directly into Ivy's sight as he replied, "That is for us to know, please trust us. We'll get there, kill the target and get out, we'll deal with whatever may follow." Taking out an Isolinear rod and holding it out in his hand, "We've already taken care of securing you a flight, a trusted patron that will smuggle whatever equipment you may need, and per such risky contracts, we promise to take care of whomever you believe should be compensated if we should fail and die."

Ivan nodded, "My tech, just make sure he's comfortable and can't be affiliated with my jobs." Slowly taking the rod, and with no fear of showing his hesitance to the Alasha.

But as Ivan began to depart, Alasha said, "Hold!" Pointing to Hittam, "Leave us."

The hybrid only gave a brief, confused look at her before nodding and leaving the chamber.

"He must come back, alive."

Ivan was going to ask why but she beat him to it, "Hittam is one of my grandsons, a favorite of my firstborn daughter's. He's skilled but very young, drunk off of the tales of Klingon honor and duty, so keep him alive no matter what. He will take this job even if you don't. Do this and consider your failure forgiven in full, do it not," She slowly shook her head, "you will know no safety from any member or cell in the Syndicate, I'll put the money you were to be rewarded with into a bounty so large that no corner of two quadrants will provide you haven."

Ivan nodded back before leaving, taking the transporter to another hub on the planet, one so busy it would be very difficult to track down where in orbit he put his ship. Only when he was safely in warp heading back to the Allon system did he mention a single, quiet, but deeply frustrated, "Fuck."

[]

Eustace rubbed his nose, scratching a growing itch he couldn't attend to from mending the inner containment of… 'Damn, we can't just keep on calling it Project-One.', but the sudden lack of activity brought a terrifying lack of noise to the underground warehouse that quieted his mind to the subject. "How many ships did you see birthed?" While Project-One did fill the cavernous facility from one side to the other, it was due to the obtuse port-starboard profile rather than sheer mass. "You were made during the worst times when the Federation was a hair's breadth away from war with the Klingons, how many ships were built in your iron womb and still dance between stars?" Suddenly shameful at himself for being so sappy and melodramatic, he scoffed, "Ya know what? I know my singing isn't what it used to be, but hopefully it'll make up for lost time?" Eustace ran his hand over the ship's hull, its emerald plates a pale gold shining even in the dim light, dust caking the armor.

Eustice felt his vocals croak as he thought back to his old Hekaran throat-singing lessons, running through them exercises as to not hurt his throat as he prepared a song he had in mind. 'Long roads, Short Stops.' Something of a bittersweet tune, but one he always loved. His deep, bellowing vocal cords almost felt like he and the vessel to be both shaking with his voice. As he poured his heart, confident in his solitude, he somehow imagined the tune would shake the ship free of the rest of its dusty layer and bring life to it by his vocals alone.

As he began to reach the end of the song, he pondered taking a project out of Ivy's antique human string instrument, seeing if he could add some other element to his songs besides the rustic sounds it produced, and like the old adage said, only restricted to thought, recalling the man somehow brought Ivy back to their door, with a loud, obnoxious door chime. "Heya, galactica pizza delivery, would you like a calzone? Fresh off the replomat! Any anchovies?"

"Great Maker; you still think you're funny." Eustace tapped his wrist control, the workshop's doors opening to the human.

"Funny isn't something I rightly consider myself. Hungry?! Well while you've asked…" Ivy laughed.

"Your food's in the mess." Pointing towards the area with a spanner.

Ivy's less than honest expression of joviality was replaced by genuine relief. It was always strange seeing so much food in one place, he had a small stack of half baguette BLTs, a dozen curry slathered chicken-wings, a large plate of crispy french fries, and a nearly bottomless bowl of fried okra. Extra spicy. Almost like how mom made it. 'It's a good last meal.' Nodding to himself as he walked to the mess's replicator and ordering, "Six bottles of Antaran beer, extra stout." Taking the grouping of beverages through his fingers, sitting at the table and prepared to personify the term 'Binge Eater' over the next hour. He almost regretted not making his tech rig the replicator to make actual alcohol, considering the occasion, but knew now, of all times, was the worst to fall off the wagon. He peeled off the tag on the inside of his cheek, keeping the small button inside it depressed for several seconds until the device retracted into a small, thin tube that he could pull out. The action made him gag and cough every single time, throwing the item to side of the table, covered in spittle and bile.

"Where in the hell did you put all that?" Eustice guffawed at the spread he put on the dining table, now nearly empty.

"Humans have three stomachs." Sipping on another synthahol beer, "Or didn't they teach you that back home?"

"Ha." Eustice smiled and rolled his eyes.

Ivy didn't know what to say to the stubby bastard, not something to convey the particular dread he felt on this mission. He's done a few missions already where he expected to get killed, so Eustice has heard the spiel a couple times already and Ivy doubted he'd be able to convince him of the severity of it all. He was going to find a target he likely won't want to shoot, is protecting a reckless boy whilst also heading into a hardened facility manned by professionals that would have to be both experienced or at least a better shot then most of the people he's met on the job. Baring the one that landed a headshot on Ivy recently. "So, I gotta 'nother job." Taking out the isolinear rod out of his pocket, "I don't doubt they protected it against making copies, so I better get the pen and paper warmed up." Lacing his fingers together, trying to think what to say to Eustice. "I um… well, if anything happens I made arrangements of a worst case scenario; I have a few case-cards in my quarter's top clothes drawer, find the one called 'Godfather' and follow the instructions as best you can."

Eusitce nodded and sighed, "Yes, I remember. What are the other cards called?"

Ivy shrugged, "Guess you'll find out if I'm dead. The other four… they're all shit storms compared to Godfather."

Eustace paced over to Ivy's side and gestured with his chin, "Want me to cover up the scar the disruptor left on your face? You're ugly enough without having more help."

"Sure." Ivy wasn't sure if it was just how recent the injury was or maybe because of the sealing-mask, but the mark itched like a bitch. It took some shuffling of tools and some curses but Eustace eventually found a dermal-regenerator, and after hovering it over the burn for a few minutes, quickly dissolved, but Ivy could tell Eustace was staring at the big honker, horizontal scar that stretched from cheek to cheek, looking to see if the regenerator had somehow fixed it, no matter how small or how little the disruptor wound overlapped with it. Ivy had done something weird to it, made it sure it couldn't be healed unless by surgical alteration.

Eustace slapped his cheek lightly, "Clean bill of health."

Ivy rolled his jaw, not in pain but in thought. "How far is Project-One? What did you work on?"

"Mostly pulling conduits, that computer core is thirstier than you'd think and when we start testing, I'd like to know it'd be reliable with our secondaries until we get the main-powerplant spinning." Walking to the replicator, "Slug-Kola." Taking the thin drink and gulping its contents until it was nearly empty.

"Yeah, also might have heard some weirdo singing, got him hiding in here?" Ivy smirked.

Eustace's cheeks and ears reddened into a nearly tomato like complexion, scoffing lightly before drinking the rest of his beverage.

"You know you could rake in some real latinum in you ever performed at Veera's."

Eustace scoffed, "I always sing better in front of a crowd, didn't you see the audience coming in? No, we might want to pay off the loans sooner rather then later but I'm not that desperate."

Ivy laughed, "Really! Stuff's great, if you get enough attention I'm sure we'd be so rich we could go legitimate!"

"Oh no," Eustace stated sarcastically, "then how are you going to get paid for killing people? What I'm told, killing for pleasure doesn't bring much in the way of income."

Ivy chuckled lowly, as he picked up his plates and taking them to the replicator to be broken down, "I'm a creature of violence; I wouldn't do it for the pay."

Eustace gave the man a side eyed look, "Sometimes I really do doubt you're one-hundred percent human."

"Why? Afraid you've been hanging around a Klingon all this time?" Ivy bounces his eyebrows knowingly.

Despite his chipper tone, Eustace gave a low growl in response, "Don't joke about that."

Ivy lifted up a hand in capitulation on the subject, "Gunna be headin' to town soon, want to come with?"

"By 'heading into town' you mean Veera's… I'm too old to be going to a brothel."

Ivy stared incredulously at his partner and blinked, "You do know that you'd be in the younger group range when visiting such a place, yea?"

Eustace huffed, "C'mon… I'm too ugly to be wasting money on shagging when I can rent a holodeck, less fuss too."

Ivy understood this only to an extent. The first things he did on a holodeck was one of the erotic simulators all the way back on the Enterprise, but the whole thing wasn't at all what he was expecting, there wasn't that flare of excitement or joy he received when he was with a real woman. As far as Ivy and his twenty-first century sensibilities could understand it, it was more or less the equivalent of self-gratification to most people. "Well, if you're planning on staying in; can I ask a favor?"

Eustace didn't verbally respond, only turning around, raising his eyebrows and waited for Ivy to say something.

"Can you install the uh… device on the shuttle?"

Eustace sighed, "What are you planning on doing? Didn't the Syndicate pay for your passage?"

"Yes, but I don't trust it. If this goes tits up, I need an escape plan. I'd rather just pay them back for the passage ticket then have them possibly know who I am or trap me after the job goes sour."

Eustace sighed, "M'kay, but I don't know how long it'll take." Taking his tools, "Would you… do you need me to come with you?"

"Thanks for the offer, but no. It's better only of us one gets killed."

Eustace gave a relieved breath, "Oh good! That would be my suggestion as well!"

After Ivy gave up trying to think of a way to explain the direness of the situation, he retreated to his quarter's, sparse and clearly uninhabited for some time, but still had his cosmetics kit. As he undressed and detached his jump suit, he looked on several knuckle sized rings of separated flesh in his chest alone, noting he'd have to shave a bit of his chest hair away to prevent it from being pulled when he reconnects with his armor, silvery sockets being neatly set inside the divets of his body. He went through the pain staking task of not only cleaning his amor but sanitizing his interface implants. While he was well far away from any of them becoming septic from neglect, they did stink worse from the issues of sweat gathering in the nooks and crannies, even with a sweat absorbent

Setting the armor on its stand in the corner of the spartan quarters; he couldn't help but feel satisfaction of what he made. The overlapping, dark grey plates of the cuirass at his flanks almost mimicking ribs, around a single solid upper chest of Dispersive armor, leading down to remarkably flexible mid and core made of small layers of ablative-scaling, his legs being plated in a similar manner as the cuirass, solid cores of Dispersive armor around the stuff that he doesn't need maximum mobility, smaller plates and scales for stuff he needs to move and move a lot in. While Ivy understood that arms technology far exceeded the ability for the individual to protect themselves with armor, and power production isn't powerful or small enough for weapons grade personal shields, the ceramics that he could find the formula for and replicate all in the comfort of his home could not only provide its small facets of protection by dispersing energy weapons all across the armor section rather than outright absorbing it, the armor he made were more so performance enhancers, stealth system, mobile armories and intelligence suites, a glass cannon of a combat panoply that focused on enhancing the wielder, rather than sheerly focusing on protecting them. The interface implants allowed the armor to recognize when he moved, breathed, panicked, was in pain, with small servos combined with running lengths of synthetic muscle fibers, guiding and magnifying actions, and only now when he looked at it did he feel almost awkward running his hand on its small shoulder, how unweighty the act was, how it felt… lacking. Ivy laughed when he recalled his mother complaining about not having fake nails, wearing them for so long that without them; all actions with her hands and fingers felt like she was missing knuckles.

After he shit, showered and shaved; Ivy started placing small seals the same color as his skin over the sockets on his body, the aptly named 'man-holes', and while he was more then happy to go out in his civvies with them visible to all, he didn't want to risk questions or the attention of curious technophiles leading back to the wrong crowd, at least at the moment. Ivy has often day-dreamed about sending the specs of both his own implantation process and the 'Medusa' pattern of armor he made to Starfleet, anonymously.

The Dominion war would be starting in maybe seven years, they'll need to be ready with any and all possible military technologies, technologies Ivy has been prototyping for nearly a year, with Eustace providing refinement to his scribbles, plans and designs.

Ivy was tempted to cancel his plans from the reminder, stay home and enter meditation once more and apply what knowledge he could find to writing. "But then I'm going to have to find a way of translating the hidden knowledge from Romulan into Vulcan then into English, then look up the techno babble, soo… Veera's it is!"

[]

"Our little personnel probe has failed to call back." Commander Heinz nodded, "Seems the whistle blower might have been right. What can you tell me about 'Korban Dallas'? Her brows scrunched together at the absurd, undoubtedly false name.

Security Officer Tanner nodded, the gaze in his eyes close, as if he was going to fall asleep at any second. "Probably a cleaner. Or a bodyguard. Told me he has a music business and writes songs."

"Hmmm, might want to check that out. For leads." Ensign Heinz explained to his sister, smiling.

"Anything else?"

"No, keeps to himself." Tanner replied dully. "He does live with this grumpy guy called Eustace."

"What can you tell me about him?"

"I have a man on my team who worked on a Syndicate Corvette, he said that Eustace was one of the engineers onboard some a few years ago."

"What is he to Korban? Friend? Lover? What do you think?"

"I think they just live together; they never gave me the impression that they were that close."

The commander nodded, looked to the lieutenant only gave a small gestured with her chin to tell him to go look for more information on Eustace. "I'll see to it my colleague here removes your memories of this exchange," Looking to said ensign and suggested, "Make the replacements vaguely happy, we got good information from him." Commander Heinz left the security terminal, and contacted her ship-board computer, "Start looking for recognizable ion trails from prior investigation site."

"Scanning." It replied in its smooth, feminine voice, "Two signatures."

Heinz was confused only for a second before she scoffed, "Focus on the one that's not ours, where does it lead?"

"Nearby body of asteroids," Giving the coordinates to the commander, whom thought quickly and then commed in: "Set course and prepare to leave dock as soon as the team is back on board." Then calling Lieutenant and giving the SITREP before going back inside the terminal and saying to her younger brother, whom held the security officer's temples gingerly, the latter's eyelids fluttering and still open as his eyes rolled upwards and his mouth was open in a long, barely audible moan as he altered his mind.

"We don't have any more fodder in the area. We should only risk ourselves if we have no choice." The ensign said, not even moving his focus away from the security officer.

"We have a couple options, but they aren't as surefire, and none have ships. I'll have them go planet side to investigate further, but we are going to the spatial coordinates ourselves."

Removing his hands from Tanner, Ensign turned to Commander and smiled. "Hopefully local? This is the closest we've gotten in half a year."

"Very local, a half hour away on maximum impulse." Commander grinned back.

[]

Ivy looked over his messages as the automated shuttle took him into town, his PADD, the smallest one he could find reminded him constantly of those chunk, old Gameboys when he was a kid, was about as large as his palm, and flirted between that line between being able to be used by a single hand or needing two constantly. He was overlooking any messages he'd been getting over the past week, the hunt for the Denobulian was both intense in both locating and staking out his digs. The man was anxious for a particular reply from someone he's only become even more worried about as of late: Kaelar.

Ivy wasn't sure what he did to avoid her death aboard the Enterprise sometime afterwards, but it also insured that she and Worf never hooked up and made Alexander. He wasn't even sure if it was his fault, this universes timeline was still different afterall, but if he was somehow responsible for the complete non-existence of a person, he wasn't sure how to feel about it. If this was going back and time and tying mama Hitler's tubes together so she couldn't sire any spawn, that'd be fine, but Alexander was just a man! Last Ivy remembered from Deep Space Nine, he was serving in the Klingon Defence Force, while not as disciplined or effective as his father, he seemed actually happy to be where he was, and this was… what? Near that time Worf was marrying Dax? Ivy felt morbidly impressed, more bound to how so little a thing he may or may not have done prevented someone from being conceived. How many different bastards and bitches would be walking around if someone did something just a little bit differently, or weren't there at all? Ivy sighed, his mind wandering to a fairly unimportant element, as what may have been really running up his worry was the fact that the Klingon Empire's Chancellorship was up for grabs. Likely, between Gowron and the those two Duras sisters that always gave him a weird and insecure boner. Mostly cause of the cleavage. He hoped. But he hadn't even heard if Duras himself, not the Great House, was dead at all! As far as Ivy was able to tell, Kaelar was still very much alive and serving as a Federation ambassador, so as a result, Worf doesn't show Duras how sharp his Bat'Leth is, but then again the Klingons aren't exactly known for letting such huge moments of destabilization from getting out to be exploited, especially where he's living! The Orions would be swooping by Duras controlled territories for a quick buck as lesser houses, industries and worlds would try to either get as much latinum as they could in order to secure transport out of the Empire, or as a way of buying weapons when other houses take the opportunity to punish and conquer those now no longer protected by one of the big kids in the playground.

What was the worst part was the waiting. Thinking about it almost made his landing to the nearby metropolis so sour as to be unenjoyable, but reminded himself that Kaeler wasn't an idiot and could take care of herself. 'Goddamn puppy love…' he cursed himself as he set sights for something that will get his mind off that woman, hitting up some of the vendors and markets on the way, namely, a drug merchant by the name of La'Min, an orion man, puny by most of his kind's standards, but could roll cigars so well that whatever you wanted stuffed in them would last two hours if one nursed them properly. Ivy had grown to liking Haki root, of course its ground up with other herbs for flavor but not only does it give one a very nice buzz, that burnt cat food aftertaste wasn't as strong, leaving the more spicy essence for the tongue, and his breath was almost clove like from what others have described.

Ivy bought a dozen of them, hoping to try and share one with Eustice before the night was out, keeping the one he had with him unlit until he reached Veera's. The closer he got, the more creatures of the night prowled, and the deeper he ignored those gathered around this central establishment, the more beautiful the women became, most of them were orion, of course, but there were a couple outsiders here and there, a few humans, some other predominant alpha quadrant races, then beta, and a couple Ivy didn't even have a name for, and some bordered that fine line between humanoid and non classification. He ignored most of their offers, one orion very aggressively approached him like she was on a mission, thrust her body against his, wrapped a leg around his and almost bit his ear off. "Oh ho hoooo I like you!" Ivan grabbed her by the throat, nearly tearing the flesh from his ear as he pulled her off him. "Unfortunately, I already have a date, but I might give you a call sometime if I survive the week." He gave that strange mix between a whisper and yell as he ordered the woman what would be happening. Ivan drank her features in, her short green hair, her red eyes, the skin tone that bordered more on yellow then green, then her attire that could roughly be described as a Princess Leia slave bikini (or such is what immediately came to his mind with its earthy tones, gold finishes and long loin cloth), and lastly, her smell. Keep in mind, this was for more her likely deviant tendencies considering her animalistic approach, but she didn't smell terrible, rather oaky and with only the latent sense of fruitiness. She pouted to him, but he nevertheless went about his duties, important to the mission ahead of him, he proceeded to Veera's with both intent and willfulness, ignoring any further advances. Ivan was surprised any humans immigrated here at all, most orion planets are if a red-light district had a baby with the business sector, it was bizarre, it was confronting and it was almost everything a typical human would ever wish to regularly encounter. Not that Ivy minded, getting a date for a weekend was a lot easier.

Veera's could almost be seen from orbit with all its bright lights, burning neon displays of famous patrons whom visited the establishment at one point, looking at it was comparable to trying to stare at the sun, its blinding spectrums on display flickering in and out as they briefly switched images, from what Ivy could tell; this was typical of orion advertising, loud, bright, almost obnoxious and stimulates the senses in question to near pain, a whole race of pheromonal controlled humanoids with a desire for physical excellence and sensational overload no matter the perception in question, and as he approached the triangular building (being comparable to a half assed pyramid if one contrasted it against the ancient wonders of Earth), Ivy was laden with perfumed dancers, the sights of people eating spicy green-hog flanks, and the music of the natives was so loud that it popped the trapped air in his ears when he was close enough, and he had a theory that there was a gravity generator that amplified or alleviated the native gravity depending on the beat of the song, not too the point where people were being crushed by five-gees, but so small and so nearly undetectable it seemed the music literally made the people lighter or heavier as they heard it.

"Dallas!"

Ivy looked to the caller and sighed bitterly as he saw a trio of bulky, bald orions approached him. "Shit can't ever just get done, can it?" He spoke to himself as the three, a head and shoulder taller then him and were absolutely violating his personal space. Looking up at the lead one, "Do I owe ya money?"

"That and more, little boy. We're gunna take ya to one of the rooms here, and have a nice, long chat."

[]

Nuava was pinged the moment Korban had entered Veera's, and nearly spat out her wine as she rushed to get dressed, having to literally climb over a few of her partners to the clothes on the dresser, put on her eye patch and check her phaser's charge before holstering it.

"Where are you going?" A bulky orion groaned out from the bed.

"Work."

"You work here, don't you?" The orion's wife, also warily asked from the bed.

"Part time, gives me bed and board." She looked at the nearby clock and said, "By the way, your time expired a couple hours ago, get ready to leave by the time I return." The couple moaned in disagreement but slowly moved towards the outset of the bed.

Nuava, however, was already out of the room by the time they were getting dressed and was nearly running towards the room the human had taken residence in. As she approached the door, the opening flew open and out flew a massive orion, slamming into the opposing wall of the hall and out strode Korban, a long, thin cigar hanging out of his mouth, took out a wooden match from his dense, dark blue pants, "Good talk," Swiping the match off the orion's bald scalp, "we should do it again sometime." Lighting the cigar, and puffing out a plume of smoke before looking to Nuava and taking it out of his mouth. "Hey, how you doing Sharp?"

"A little ragged, you caught me at a bad time." Nuava grimaced as she walked closer to the man, and looked into the room, seeing two identical orions in the room in similar states of unconsciousness. "Trouble?"

"More like an annoyance, the boys came to collect a bit of my debt. We had a disagreement about the percentage." Putting the cigar between his lips and puffing a plume, "I'll make this quick, can you send you sister a message for me?"

Nuava glared at him with her single eye, "You have her subspace signal, no?"

He looked to the side, uncomfortably, "Yeah…"

"Why don't you send it yourself?"

Korban sighed, "You know why."

"The famous Headhunter, afraid of a woman?" Nuava scoffed.

"That 'woman' is the Pirate Queen, and our last meeting didn't exactly leave on pleasant terms."

Nuava looked to the ground and shook her head slightly, "I don't believe it, she actually proposed to you and you rejected her?" She heard a few rumors, but she rarely saw or spoke to her sister unless it was business related.

"Maybe…" Korban let out a frustrated breath.

Nuava rubbed her forehead with her palm. "Well… I'll send the message, what's going on?"

"Bad news for the sector, an orion boss has been paid to bite off more then she can chew and it involves Starfleet."

Nuava gave a small, sarcastic chuckle, "When it rains, it pours eh?"

"Fucking A. Just make sure you keep clear, alright?"

"The Federation wouldn't care for the owner of a small 'private security force'." Ivy wasn't sure if the orion had winked at him or gave a stronger blink to suggest her confidence in the matter. "However, what concerns me is what your involvement is in this?"

"Hitman stuff, you understand. Riskier than usual, so I'm willing to put down a little coin here. The Twins working tonight?"

"Last I checked, yes." Nuava put a hand on his upper arm, "Good hunting."

"Stay safe." Taking her hand and shook it firmly and then giving her the data slip to send over subspace. Ivy quickly departed, knowing that someone will send the still knocked out bruisers he left to the street and went to the door he knew that likely held 'the Twins'. Of course there was weird, and likely fictional, story about the martian/vulcan sisters, but he wasn't there for their cheesy backstory, instead, for the 'salty and sweet' combination of sexual congress they provided those who had the ability to pay the premium. As he opened the door, he saw the twin vulcanoids, one dark haired, the other of a lighter brown, swarthy and almond eyed, preparing to undress a middle aged, human male. They took one look at Ivy and then immediately started re buttoning up the man's shirt. "Sorry handsome!" The Vulcan one said apologetically, "We shall refund you." The martian continued.

"What?!" He asked, outraged. "Why?!"

"Five seconds pal." Ivy put out the cigar on the back of his hand, over one of the man-holes.

"It'd be logical to go." The martian explained, "He's uh not very nice." The Vulcan continued.

"You can get in line!" He pointed at Ivy before wrapping his arms around the Twin's waists.

The martian looked at the human and quickly performed the Nerve Pinch on him, falling back on the bed slowly. Ivy rose an eyebrow, "Is this technically preferential treatment? Do I have to pay more because of it?"

"We would certainly appreciate it!" The Vulcan smiled broadly.

"Give me a second…" Ivy dragged the guy out of the room, closed the door and immediately started stripping and joined the pair on the bed.

The rendezvous lasted three hours, Ivy would have stay longer and indulged, but he was on a time table whether he liked it or not. He paid the ladies, ignored the bar as best he could on the way out and made his way back to base.

Eustace was already asleep, the work apparently finished, Ivy had the shuttle warmed up as he readied his equipment, and had entered Project-One's armory, where he stored his rifle-prototype. It was a massive thing, just over a meter in length, weighing four kilograms in perfect balance, and had was built out of the sturdiest parts he could fabricate them from. While it could be used almost like a quarterstaff, he didn't dub it the 'DMR' for nothing, a 'Destructive-Materials-Rifle'. 'My armor: my mind, my body. My pistol: my small arms, my explosives. My rifle: my artillery, my surgical strike.' Ivy was going into this unprepared, but he wasn't going in under-armed. He loaded up the shuttle, spotted that the Device was installed and would tax the impulse-engines if he turned it on. 'Or I can make it dip into lifesupport and rely on my armor's air supply for a few hours.' He considered. Taking a look at his note he made from the isolinear rod, he programmed the system coordinates into the shuttle's helm, let the ship fly itself to the destination, and before he decided to nap in his armor he commanded, "Computer," The ship chimed in readiness, "engage the cloaking device." Internal power dialed down, the ship slowed to warp-four, and he disengaged life support. "Here's to game changing technology from another universe." Taking a sip of water from the feed in his armor before leaning back in his chair and falling asleep.

[]

"Little prick didn't even say goodbye…" Eustace smiled and yawned. He prepped for the day of working on Project-One, it was going to be more difficult to work the power over without the thirsty device that Ivy made. Near when he was going to be taking a lunch break, Eustace was startled out of his work when the base's alarm called out its intruder alarm. "Biometrics unknown." The computer explained, "Lifeforms at front entrance."

"Hey pal!" Ivy yelled out over the comms, "Let me in, we gotta go!"

Eustace was in such a blaring panic that he thought that maybe Ivy was scrambling scans so that the people who were likely hunting him back to base had a tougher time of finding where they lived, unlocked the front door and was running to meet him. As the yard's heavy doors slowly whined open, he saw three people. A woman and two men, species unknown to the half-tellarite. The woman smiled at the stunned mechanic and said, "How are you doing today, Eustace?"

"Oh no…" Eustace whined quietly as the big one rushed in, grabbed him and held the man against the wall.

"Ensign?" The woman looked to the other male, whom was already at the big guy's side and staring intently at Eustace.

Everything became a bit… fuzzy after that.

[]

Holy mother of god has time been tough recently.

Sorry it takes so long to write this, but man am I beat.