Breaking The Seal

Posted on Jun 15, 2015 @ 11:20am by Lieutenant James Barton
Edited on on Jun 15, 2015 @ 11:21am

Mission: The Lights of Hyperion

"Breaking the Seal"

(Continued from "Game Changer")




=[/\]=



LOCATION: USS PHOENIX

SCENE: Cargo Bay 3 “Shantytown” Public Mess

TIME: Breakfast




Jacen Barnes sat in one of the half a dozen public messes that had popped up in Shantytown, joined by a significant number of his security detail. These men were known as Barnes’ “deputies,” an appellation to match his own title of Sheriff. His efforts to discourage the latter were no more successful than his efforts to discourage the former and both had spread quickly through the community. However, though these men reported to Barnes and followed his orders, he was under no delusions as to their loyalty. Every one of them had been introduced to him by Savaar, the inscrutable Vulcan who had seemingly instituted himself as Arthur Embry’s right hand. It was to Embry, the charismatic leader who had united the huddling masses in cargo bay three into a community, that Barnes’ deputies gave their actual allegiance.



Barnes had called his patrols together to share intelligence and strategy after what had been a very busy morning. Two of his pairs had been forced to intercede physically in conflicts around the cargo bay, and a third had been out and out attacked by a refugee who’d been reprimanded two days earlier for his behavior. The tension in Shantytown was growing, faster now than ever, and Barnes was terrified of what would transpire when the community reached its breaking point. He tried hard to discourage himself, but he had already begun to think of the strangers he faced daily as potential adversaries, instead of as frightened people who needed his help.



The mess was heavily crowded, as was everywhere else in the USS PHOENIX’s Cargo Bay 3, but not nearly as much as it would have been if it served fresh food. Or hot food. Or food other than Marine MREs and Protein Cubes. A number of tables with bench seating had been placed end to end, and in two parallel rows. Filled to capacity, the space could easily sit a hundred comfortably. Though Barnes and his team made up only a small part of the crowd in the room, they seemed to be the largest group. The other denizens of Shantytown kept to themselves, or in compact units. The air thrummed with the buzz of over a dozen conversations.



Barnes found himself sitting at the head of one of the tables, pretending to laugh along with the rest of his men at a story being told by the gregarious redhead, Steiner, but inwardly just counting down the seconds until it was over. In the past few days, he’d learned Steiner’s stories always ended the same way: with Steiner embarrassing or injuring someone, sometimes both, much to his own amusement. As he mentally disengaged from the conversation, his eyes scanned the mess. These places catered to those who had already utilized their personal replicator credits, or as happened more often, had bartered them away. There were always those shortsighted or unfortunate enough to find themselves in such a situation. The messes were one of the only alternatives to the individuals that the other refugees had taken to calling ‘farmers.’ Both the Starfleet crew and Embry’s staff, Barnes included, had made preventing a food-based black market from spawning one of their top priorities. However, nature abhors a vacuum of power moreso than any other, and already there were new names being made in the throngs of the unfortunate. Some farmers had stockpiled responsibly, some had stockpiled recklessly. Still others were shrewd traders and barterers. Some were lucky, others were vicious, but they all had food when their neighbors did not, and that gave them power. He turned his attention back to his deputies, just as Steiner was reaching his story’s climax. “So I’ve got this guy by the arms, and I figure that’s the end of it, right? No, the sonofabitch starts kicking! I mean, he’s jumping in the air and just mule kicking the poor bastard in front of him, and now, ‘cause I’m holding him up, I’m basically helping him do it.”



“So what’d you do then?” That was Harper, he of the bad breath, granite like visage, and unimpressive mental faculties.



“The next time he kicked both of his feet out, I let go of his arms. He dropped on his ass so hard I thought he’d busted his tailbone for sure. Funniest damn thing you ever saw.” The group laughed, none louder than Steiner himself. Barnes made a decent show of laughing along. The chuckle was just dying down when Barnes noticed two of Kass’ Marines enter the mess. It was Bellecotte, one of the few Humans Barnes had met that outsized him, and Winifred Nguyen, one of the refugees that had signed on to work with Kass and the Marines after Barnes had come to her aid a few days back. His deputies saw them a moment after he himself had, and when they did, it seemed like the temperature in the room dropped significantly. Smiles drained from the deputies’ faces, even as Barnes feebly lifted his coffee cup in greeting. Nguyen gave a friendly smile that visibly rotted under the contempt of the deputies. For his part, Horatio, reading the disdain rolling his direction, just offered a slow nod of acknowledgement – neither friendly nor unfriendly. The two Marines glanced around the mess, apparently just stopping in as part of their patrol, then turned and left without a word to anyone inside.



Steiner was the first to speak. “I don’t like the way those Marines look at us.”



Metcalf’s expression didn’t change, and his tone was neither accusing nor accepting. He simply stated, “They don’t like that we outnumber them,” and shoveled another forkful of egg-based protein concentrate into his mouth.



“They don’t like that we don’t need ‘em to tell us what to do.” That was Harper.



“They don’t like that we’re all prettier than they are.” Barnes blinked, as did most of the other men at the table. They each looked at Maines, the sandy haired kid with the doe eyes who’d made the observation. He just grinned at them. Maines was quickly gaining a reputation. It wasn’t so much that he was a smartass – it was just that his sense of humor was weird, and he liked the confused looks he got from people. After a half-moment, Herber began to chuckle and Mason joined in.



Seeing that he was losing his hold on the crowd, Steiner glared at Maines, who didn’t notice, and grumbled, “Just more of that Starfleet horseshit. More of that we’re so much smarter and better than all of you and if you don’t agree with me I’ll just blast you with this phaser.”



Herber, who’d never served but who’s sister-in-law had been an engineer on a repair vessel, opened his mouth to play devil’s advocate. From there, the team would begin to argue amongst themselves, nobody convincing anybody else, but filling the air around them with a litany of reasons to hold their Starfleet hosts in contempt. Barnes didn’t need any more of those made available when rumbling bellies were becoming so commonplace, nor did he want any of the more simply criminal elements in Shantytown to see his deputies publicly disagreeing. Raising his voice, he cut in before Herber had a chance to. “None of what you’re saying is wrong. Except for that part about ‘prettier.’ Steiner’s never been prettier than anybody in his life.” They all laughed, even Steiner, but Barnes could tell it was a polite laughter. Lowering his volume, he continued. “But other than that, you guys are right. That’s why we’ve got to play it cool. Because we can’t legitimately expect people to put any stock or faith in clowns like them. But if they believe in nothing and nobody, then this place explodes. So just smile and play nice,” and remembering who he was talking to, he amended his statement, “…like Arthur told us.”



Then, unnoticed by his deputies, the real reason Barnes had brought his team to this mess at this point in their morning patrol walked in. The blonde man with the disheveled hair smiled at one of the women at a table near the entrance, then met Barnes’ eye for a quick moment. Without a word, he turned and walked away from the tables, towards one of the temporary restrooms that had been constructed. “You guys are doing a great job,” Barnes said as he dragged his napkin across his beard and watched the other man disappear, unnoticed.



“You know it, Chief. We couldn’t do it without you,” Steiner replied quickly, his eyes betraying doubt in the sentiment his lips expressed.



“Damn straight, you couldn’t.” The polite chuckle again. Dropping his napkin across his meager plate, Barnes stood. “I gotta take a leak.”



He was halfway to the door of the makeshift facilities when he saw the bloody child out of the corner of his eye. When he turned to look at it directly, of course, it wasn’t there.



*Remember that?*



SCENE: Restroom



Silsby’s black boots were visible under one of the stall doors. With a glance, Barnes confirmed there were no others visible, then paused for a moment, listening for the sounds of scuffling or breathing. It seemed that hiding people always scuffled pointlessly or breathed unnecessarily loudly. When he was sure they were alone, he moved into the stall beside Silsby and whispered, “What are the names?”



Silsby’s answering whisper was tired and flat. “Perry and Chow. Jeff and Blake.”



“What are they-“ The outer door to the restroom opened halfway, then closed. No one entered, but Barnes waited for the span of three breaths before he continued. “Tell me about them.”



“Perry’s a little dick, but he’s loyal to a fault. Blake’s a decent guy. Drinker.”



“A drunk?”



“Not a drunk. Just likes to drink. Besides, what do you care?” Barnes was tempted to ask what Silsby meant by that question, but he was afraid that he wouldn’t care for the answer, and he wasn’t interested in a fight. He was tired, he was overworked, he knew that he was on the edge of one of his ‘occurrences’…the fact of the matter was that, yeah, he could use a drink or ten himself right about now. Also, he didn’t want to argue with the wall of his bathroom stall.



“I don’t,” he sighed. “Do they know the job?”



“I’ve told them what I’ve told the others. They can do it, but-“



“Good. We’ll need more.” Barnes was standing and opening the stall door.



“Hey, wait. Wait,” Silsby hissed from his own stall.



Barnes froze, then slipped the stall door closed and again took a seat. “What?”



“Just hold on a minute. I need some answers, Big Man.”



“I don’t have a lot of time, Silsby.”



“I’ll be quick-like.”



“What?”



“My command codes.”



Barnes grimaced, glad that Silsby couldn’t see his face. “I told you, I haven’t forgotten. I’m working on it. I’ve got a line, maybe.” He hadn’t told Virgo about his conversation with Selyara Chen, mainly because he wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it himself. He’d explained that he’d agreed to locate codes for Silsby in payment of his services, which Barnes had tried to make her see the necessity of. He couldn’t tell if she’d been convinced or not, which was probably not a good sign for his chances, but she’d said she’d consider it.



“You said that last time. Next time, I need you to have something different to say.”



“Okay,” Barnes was standing again, wondering how long before he was forced to fulfill Silsby’s demands or lose his assistance, and probably that of everyone Silsby had found for him. He didn’t want to contemplate that. “Is that it?”



“Not exactly.” Barnes didn’t speak, just stood with his hand on the latch of his stall, waiting. After a moment, Silsby continued unprompted. “You’re asking people’s help. Specifically people who generally like to keep to themselves. A lot of folks appreciate what you’ve done. Some of them are willing to help out from the kindness in their heart…”



Barnes could already see where this was going, and was feeling his patience at a low ebb. “And the others,” he snapped.



There was a brief pause, then Silsby’s voice was hesitant. “I’ve had to make promises.”



Unseen, Barnes’ eyes narrowed. “What kind of promises?”



“Nothing major. Extra replicator rations. Exceptions to the ‘no liquor’ policy. Holodeck time.”



“Holodeck time?!” Barnes voice thundered like an explosion, and for a moment neither he nor Virgo made a sound. When the Sheriff spoke again, his voice was a demanding whisper. “How do they expect me to-“



“They don’t care how. Just like you don’t care how they do their work for you.”



“Is that it?” Another pause. “It’s not. What else?”



“I’ll get you the list. Like I said, there’s nothing crazy that people are asking for, especially in light of you drafting them into some kind of secret police force. A lot of people aren’t comfortable with that. I’m not comfortable with it.”



“Neither am I. But it’s just where we’re at right now.”



“You’re the first person to ever say that, I bet,” even though he couldn’t see Silsby’s face, he could imagine the condescending expression on it. He’d seen a lot of it over the past few days.



Barnes fumbled for the right words. “I just don’t want to see people get killed.”



“Neither do I, Big Man. And that’s why I’m helping you out. That and our deal. But you’re needing more help, and that means more deals, and I’m telling you, you’d better honor them, or you’re going to have a whole lot more trouble than you started with. Not the Starfleet captain, not your little Marine girlfriend, not Embry, and not the rest of us. You.”



Barnes listened as Silsby’s stall door opened, then as footsteps approached the restroom’s sink. He heard the sound of running water, then the outer door open again and the footsteps retreated out of his range of hearing. During all of that, he reflected on Silsby’s words and the truth they contained. He counted to twenty-five in his head, then stood and left the restroom himself. Steiner called to him as he walked out of the door, making some kind of completely original reference to ‘falling in.’ Barnes rolled his eyes in a way he hoped no one remarked, and made his way back to his deputies.



=[/\]=



SCENE: Arthur Embry’s Office

TIME INDEX: Lunch



He’d reassigned his deputies into different pairs, given them their zone assignments, and redeployed them for the second half of their morning patrols. He’d joined two of the pairs for their initial passes through their zones, serving as both a third visible body and also observing the interactions his men had with the other refugees. He’d made a note to himself that two of the men, Roget Todd and Monroe Herber, the one with the engineer sister-in-law, were more inclined to whisper and snicker at each other than to make the refugees their center of attention. He’d have to keep them assigned to other partners in the future. When he’d set off on his own, he’d walked the perimeter of the cargo bay, looking for trouble and trying to subtly discourage folks from brewing it up. He’d forbidden his men from making solo patrols, but he didn’t apply the rule to himself. His men weren’t armed with the arsenal that Kass had provided him. After making two passes of the bay, he’d stopped by his cot for a brief, dozing nap. It had been days since he’d slept deeply or for long, but even poor rest was better than none. Then it was time for his lunchtime meeting.



The makeshift office constructed by Embry was both a center of bustling activity, but also serene. Embry kept his lieutenants and supporters constantly busy, always moving and productive, but had also made it clear just how much he valued, and expected, a measure of peace and quiet in his work space. There were no commands shouted across the room, instead people would quickly cross the floor to whisper in a colleague’s ear. It struck him that every time he came here, there was always at least one face he didn’t recognize, one new devotee of their leader. Savaar, Embry’s Vulcan Friday, was engaged in a hushed conversation with two such newcomers when he saw Barnes enter. One of his eyebrows rose, as if in greeting, and he gave a gentle nod to the other two men. The nod must have been a dismissal because the two moved quickly away and Savaar approached Barnes’.



“Good afternoon, Mr. Barnes.”



“Savaar. Is he in?”



“He is, naturally. I believe he is expecting you for lunch.”



“Just like yesterday.”



“Indeed.”



“I’ll show myself in.”



“I will escort you.” Neither had said an unkind word to the other, but it had become very clear that Savaar and Barnes did not trust or like each other. For his part, Barnes wouldn’t allow the Vulcan to stand behind him, ever conscious of that damn nerve pinch they’d all seemed to master. He wasn’t sure what Savaar believed or suspected about Barnes, but it was obvious that the pointy-eared majordomo was determined that Barnes would not be allowed to operate in Embry’s office unsupervised. Thus, they had fallen into a dance that was neither friendly nor hostile.



“After you,” the hulking Human replied, with a smirk. *Not letting you behind me...*



Barnes followed Savaar to the alcove where Embry was taking his lunch. Barnes couldn’t help but note that while Embry doubtless had replicator credits available or could get them, he had limited himself mostly to the same MREs that the rest of them were subsisting on. “Mostly” because it seemed he had taken stuffed the majority of the ungodly Salisbury steak substitute between what very much resembled two slices of thick-sliced, fresh wheat bread. He smiled as the Sheriff entered.



“Good afternoon, Jacen.”



“Arthur,” Barnes replied, taking what had become his customary spot near the door. He hadn’t yet come around to Embry’s view that these daily meetings served any practical function. However, they kept Embry both quiet and happy, which did serve an important purpose, so Barnes had quit protesting them and simply tried to hasten to their conclusions as quickly as possible.



“While I know there’s no point in it, I feel I must offer-“ Embry gestured towards his plated MRE sandwich.



“No. Nothing, thanks. Not hungry,” Barnes had said some iteration of those words like a mantra nearly every time he’d met with Embry.



The community leader held up his hands in mock resignation, then returned to his sandwich. He spoke between bites. “How has your morning been? Pleasant, I hope.”



“Fine. Nothing we couldn’t handle.”



Embry frowned at him over the pseudo-Salisbury steak. “If I’m not mistaken, I just asked how you were doing and you gave me a status report.”



*So long as this cargo bay doesn’t explode, I’m doing exactly as well as the situation in here.* He didn't voice the thought. Barnes was practiced at holding his tongue, and merely replied, “Yeah.”



Embry's ersatz frustration drained into a warm smile. “Relax, Jacen. There’s a difference between doing a job well and being defined by it. You’re allowed to just have good mornings. Or bad ones.”



Barnes said nothing.



Arthur sighed. “You said, ‘Nothing we couldn’t handle.’ So you, or your men, were compelled to…handle something?”



“People are getting fidgety. They’ve been shut in here for days on days, and they’re getting tired of the taste of protein cubes. Tempers are going to run hot. It happens.”



“It’s troubling how often it’s happening.”



“I wish nobody was throwing sucker punches at my guys, believe me, but it's not an epidemic. It's only been a few guys who've decided to try my detail. My guys have handled it.”



Embry looked at Barnes with eyes gone wide. “People are attacking your men directly?” For a flash of an instant, he had the desperate look of a man presented with evidence that two plus two equaled five, like all of his equations had failed him. It passed over his face in less time than it took to blink. Then his face was impassive, and he was staring at Barnes with a renewed intensity.



“Like I say, Arthur. Things happen. Look at the bright side. Maybe these things get people an opportunity to let off a little steam. Delay any kind of…explosions.”



“Hmm. That’s very…” Embry’s voice trailed off, even as he fixed Barnes with a chilling stare. Slowly he rose to his feet. He took a step towards Barnes, then another. His brow was furrowing, and his expression was beginning to twist. Suddenly, he turned away and began to pace. “No. No, I don’t think you’re right. I think the violence, the disruption, will only desensitize people to violence and disruption. Make them expect it. I think it will only hasten the coming unpleasantness, and it also divides people. These brawls pit neighbor versus neighbor, and they’re likely to cause factions. We need to keep our friends of a single mind.”



“To make them easier to control,” Barnes asked Embry's back.



Embry turned back to his appointed Sheriff. If he was offended, his face didn’t betray it at all. Instead, his expression was one of earnest enthusiasm. “To lead, Jacen. To steer. To protect, if I may be so bold.” There was a pause, and when Embry spoke again, his voice had taken on a new tone, one that Barnes couldn’t recall hearing before. Embry sounded hesitant, perhaps even unsure. “Jacen, I have some concerns with your performance.”



Barnes stood up straighter. Now it was he who was staring a whole through Embry. “My performance? What are you talking about? I was just saying maybe there’s a bright side to the-”



Embry held up his hands in a placating gesture. “No, I don’t mean regarding the rise in incidents. I’m sure you’re correct; it’s a natural by-product of people being shut away in here. I’m referring to something more significant.” Embry moved back to his chair. His voice maintained it's soothing, ingratiating tone. “Your efforts have been tireless. I don’t know if you sleep less than I do, but I’m certain you don’t sleep a great deal more. You’ve increased patrols. You’ve been working with Chaucer to examine the damage to the replicators. You haven’t taken the opportunity to spend time with the lovely Ms. Chen, and I believe she could use some companionship.”



Outwardly, Barnes kept a withering stare fixed on Arthur Embry but inside, his heart was pounding and his bowels had turned to water. He couldn’t be absolutely sure but he doubted that Embry was *coincidentally* laying bare nearly every move that Barnes had tried to keep out of sight. More than the surface level praise that he was heaping on the Sheriff, Embry was letting him know that he knew about Barnes’ work with the Gorn engineer, that he knew about Barnes’ contact with Selyara Chen. Embry obviously knew where Barnes slept, all of Shantytown did by now, but he was letting Jacen know that he’d been keeping track of when the Sheriff was asleep. And vulnerable. No, he couldn’t be absolutely, absolutely sure, but he also couldn’t escape the threat camouflaged within Embry’s praise.


Right? Or was he just being paranoid?



Embry continued. “You’ve done as much as anyone to make this situation livable and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your efforts, but you are burning the candle at both ends and that’s neither smart nor safe. Especially since the Marine commander has seen fit to entrust you, and only you, with that arsenal you insist on carrying. Considering the strain we’re all under, and yourself moreso than most, it would be understandable if a person were to find a crutch to lean on. But as tempting as it may be, if you were to be seen in a state unfit for duty-“



The Sheriff’s patience was running thin. “What are you talking about, Arthur?”



“I’m not judging, Jacen. I enjoy a drink as well as anyone.”



“A drink? What makes you think I’m…” He trailed off. Embry was looking him straight in the face with an expression that was designed to be anything but accusatory. Red rage began to seep in at the edges of his vision, but he choked it off like a leaking garden hose. Keeping his voice level, he forced a humorless smile to his face to keep himself from shouting, but his voice was eerily calm, even casual. “You’ve been asking around. Doing some checking up on me, Arthur?”



“I don’t think that’s quite fair.”



“Sounds like you’ve been hearing some interesting stories. Anything you’d like to ask me about? I’m sure I can give you some details that the others left out.”



“You’ll have to pardon me, Jacen. I really am terribly sorry. But your behavior has been highly suspect. You've made less of an effort to coordinate with me. You've taken patrols on your own, which we both agreed was not sound security principle. Your deputies have described your behavior as secretive, even suspicious. You keep glancing over your shoulder like you expect to get caught with your hand in the cookie jar. I’m sorry to say, but at first, I suspected you were actually working to undermine our interests here. As nonsensical as that seemed, it was the only explanation I could see for your, bluntly, exceedingly strange behavior. The sneaking around. So, yes, I asked a few questions. Some of the members of our little band remember you. That really shouldn't surprise you. To be honest with you, I was almost relieved to hear about your reputation on LIMBO. I’m sorry, I know that’s an awful thing to say, but I understand an addiction, certainly more than the idea that you’d be working m- against us to tear this community apart.”



“I wouldn’t do that to you, Arthur.”



Embry nodded, looking properly embarrassed. “I know that. I’m sorry to have doubted you. But that leaves us with the other, which doesn't work, either. As I say, I don't begrudge anyone for wanting a drink in here, but you must promise me that you’ll make a change. You must realize that you represent more than yourself. You represent all of us. You are becoming a symbol of our ability to fight for ourselves, to protect ourselves. You embolden the rest of them. You’ll be very important to us and we need you at your best.”



“I’m sorry.” And the damnedest part was that it wasn’t a lie. He knew that Embry was manipulating him, but he couldn’t deny that what Embry was manipulating him with was the truth. So he did feel guilty about his behavior, even though he knew that he wasn't doing what Embry thought he was doing and he knew that he also couldn’t allow himself to change it.



“So am I, Jacen. I really am. Let’s just put this behind us.” Embry rose and walked towards Jacen, his right hand extended. “Let’s both resolve to work even closer, to work better one with the other. So that neither of us has cause to doubt again.”



And Barnes shook his hand, even as he felt the noose tighten around his throat.



=[/\]=


SCENE: Shantytown

TIME: Dinner


The rest of the afternoon was quiet, until it wasn't.


It happened nearly five hours after his lunchtime meeting with Embry. After spending another five laps of their patrol region with Steiner and Metcalf, it had been a relief to instead be on patrol with Casigllio and Maines. Casigllio was relatively short, and he hovered on the line between a medium and a slender build, but that didn't stop him from being one of the most intimidating men in Barnes' stable of deputies. Nearly everything about him - his posturing swagger, his perpetual scowl and the glare to match it, the nose which had so obviously been broken repeatedly, to the way that his left hand had a tendency to flex and dance while he spoke, almost as if it was impatient to coil itself into a fist and destroy something - nearly everything about him screamed that he was a hard man. More to Barnes' liking, he wasn't much of a talker. Maines talked more, but still nowhere near as much as Steiner, and when he did speak, he was often funny, so he scanned alright with Barnes.


The three of them hadn't encountered anything worse than a few hard-eyed stares for most of the afternoon, but as they neared a crowded collection of three-level bunk beds near the front of the cargo bay, they were met with shouting. Drawing closer, Barnes saw that a handful of young men in their early twenties were arguing with another group, mostly older. Each of the two groups were loosely huddled around one of their own, and the two men seemed to have taken on the job of spokesman for their group. The younger men were championed by a kid who couldn't have been more than twenty-two, right around the same age as Maines. The kid was bald, had a pale complexion, blue eyes and a tiny pig nose. He had one of those faces that told you, before he ever opened his mouth, that wherever you estimated his IQ, you were about 35 points too high. The older men were formed behind a man in his early forties. He was Asian, tall - only a few inches shorter than Barnes -and thin. His face was marked by deep frown lines on his face and crows' feet around his eyes.


"You are a nuisance to everyone around here, "the older advocate was shouting. "You don't even belong here!"


At exactly the same time, the kid was shouting, "You don't own these beds, shopkeeper! We're not even bothering anyone!"


Barnes looked at Maines and Casigllio and could see they were both thinking the same thing: Just the kids and the grownups arguing over the things they had for millennia. He nodded at both of them to let them know he saw it the same way. He fixed Maines with a brief stare, then nodded at the bald kid, signalling the younger Maines to handle him. Casigllio's left hand started flexing as he nodded at the taller man, but Barnes gave him a quick shake of the head and moved to detain the older gentleman himself. The standard protocol that the Sheriff and his men used would see them separate the two men, calm them down, and then most likely turn them on their way. They'd done it dozens of times before. It was going swimmingly until the kid started shouted at Maines.


"Don't you touch me!" Maines was moving forward, holding his hands up non-threateningly, but still advancing. "Hey! Get away from-" The bald headed kid with the ugly nose didn't even finish the thought. He'd taken two slow steps backward, but suddenly, he charged forward, and slammed his forehead into Maines' temple. The half-dozen or so who were backing up the kid swarmed forward as if on cue, and though the older men took a half-second longer to respond, when they did it was in exactly the same fashion. Barnes, Maines, and Casigllio were caught up quickly in a melee larger than any they'd dealt with so far.


Barnes had drilled with each of his deputies, and Maines had done alright in those exercises, but he was learning now the difference between sparring and actual fighting. He was throwing ill-timed punches, and through the swarm of bodies between them, Barnes could see clearly that he wasn't breathing, or at least not properly. He'd punch himself out quickly. He turned his glance to Casigllio. The shorter man wasn't using any of the holds or takedowns they'd drilled. Instead, he was letting his left hand dance wherever it pleased, and accompanying it with a liberal number of rights, knees, elbows, and kicks, many of which to the groin. His face was split into a toothy grin, marred only by the blood pouring from his once again broken nose. The two factions were crashing against each other, throwing several punches and kicks of their own, but mostly just shoving and shouting. They weren't trained, and they weren't fighters - they were just angry. However, even though both groups all told numbered barely more than a dozen people, this was still the largest brawl that Shantytown had seen yet, and Barnes knew that he needed to end it quickly. He reached for the stun baton on his belt.


Though he wouldn't admit it, the Sheriff of Shantytown liked fighting. He liked the challenge, the physical exertion, and the stakes. He liked the pain. He liked knowing, when it was over, that he'd beaten another man, that in some small way, he'd been able to force his own truth into someone else's universe, if only temporarily. He almost never heard The Whisper over the clash of a brawl. Fighting had gotten him paid. When he wanted it, fighting had gotten him companionship, and most other times, fighting could get him solitude. He wasn't proud of it, but he liked those things and so he liked fighting and so he was good at it. He remembered that once he'd been good at other things, but now he was almost certain this had become his only skill.


He was almost certain that he didn't injure anyone, but he hurt anyone who fell in range of his baton or his hands. It couldn't have taken more than two minutes. He was squeezing one of the kid's carotid artery in his right arm when the din behind him suddenly changed. The sounds of the fight were like an audio recording suddenly robbed of power. They didn't fade away, so much as die abruptly, but there was still noise. He looked up and a crowd had gathered around. Three more of his men - Hennig, Todd, and Weaver - had come to assist, likely alerted by the excited shouts of the arriving spectators more than the sounds of the fight itself. Maines, Todd, and Weaver were standing over the younger assailants, who were either sitting on the ground or lying on their backs. Hennig and Casigllio were mirroring the act with the older combatants. Dully, Barnes found himself wondering where Hennig's partner was. Then, at the edge of the crowd of spectators, he saw Savaar, coolly observing the proceedings. *Great,* Barnes thought to himself with a grimace. *Just great.*


The kid in his arms was sleeping now. Barnes dropped him unceremoniously amidst his downed friends, and nodded at Maines and Weaver to continue their interrogations. It looked like they were focusing their attention on the leader now.


Maines was being much less genial than before. "What's your name, punk?"


The Kid shot Maines a hateful look, but he caught sight of Barnes standing behind and choked down whatever his first response had been. If somone had been looking very, very closely, it's possible they may have caught some flash of communication between Barnes and the leader of the young hooligans. But no one was watching. When the kid spoke, he spoke civilly. "My name's Jeff Perry, sir."


"You're in some trouble, Mr. Perry..." Maines began, but Barnes was moving toward Casigllio and the taller, older man who had been at the forefront of the older gentlemen.


Casigllio turned to him as he approached. "This guy says his name is Blake Chow. You want to talk-"


Barnes cut him off. "No. You go ahead and talk to him. Things should be calmer now." Blake Chow cut his eyes at Barnes, gave the barest hint of a nod, and said nothing.


Barnes took a few steps away, and slipped his stun baton back into his belt. He took two deep breaths, although he wasn't winded, and surveyed the scene around him. Some of the crowd were beginning to disperse, whispering and buzzing amongst themselves. He caught Savaar's eye, and gave him an exaggerated nod. The Vulcan looked as annoyed as Vulcans ever looked, and Barnes knew that he was already imagining reporting to Embry on yet another brawl in Shantytown. Barnes grunted in satisfaction. Once again, the men Silsby had found had done an admirable job in their assignments. The gangs they'd assembled weren't large, but had enough weight to make for a good show. Moreover, they'd all fought believably while exercising enough restraint that nobody had been seriously injured in any of the fights Barnes had incited.


He wouldn't have described it as a great plan, but it was the best he'd been able to come up with. He hoped that if he could instigate enough small-scale skirmishes they would act like a series of firebreaks, denying fuel to the coming forest fire of violence that Embry was predicting. Moreover, he knew that Arthur was counting on a 'one big happy family' vibe in his plans for Shantytown, so it just made sense to let him wonder about where all the turbulence was coming from. He liked Arthur, and he believed that the man who'd overseen Shantytown this far truly did want the best, but Barnes knew he couldn't be trusted to deliver that. He knew too well the damage that well-intentioned men could do. If the large scale riot did come, Barnes didn't have faith in Embry's ability to control it enough that no one was hurt.


His eyes were drawn again to the combatants of only a minute before. Chow and Perry had obviously instructed them well. They were all behaving politely now, answering questions quickly and without raising their voices. Each of them would be released back into the community instead of being sent to the PHOENIX's brig. However, it was likely that one or two of them would be making an escorted visit to Sickbay. Casigllio's nose wasn't the only thing broken. He hoped that he wasn't guilty of the very thing he was trying to prevent from Embry. Was he causing people to get hurt for no reason?


One of the kids was standing now, and lightly swaying. He looked like he'd been drinking, but there was the faintest trickle of blood from his right ear. He kept shaking his head, as if he was trying to clear away drowsiness, but his eyes were unfocused. An obviously serious concussion. Barnes moved to intercept him, to get him to take a seat again until they could get him help, but the younger man lurched away. Suddenly Barnes eyes went wide. The kid was stumbling in the direction of the cargo bay door, and he was perilously close to the forcefield that held everyone inside the cargo bay. He'd seen enough people try the force fields to know that the impact wouldn't be enough to worry about typically, but in this guy's state, the flare of the field was likely to throw him from his feet and compound his injury.


"Hey," Barton called to him. "Hey buddy, just hold on-" but it was too late. As he stumbled, the younger man's right foot squarely impacted his left ankle and he toppled forward...


And crashed to his hands and knees on the ground. In front of where the field should have stopped him. Barnes had been moving to intercept the younger man, but his inertia died as he stared at the fallen man, who was now emptying the contents of his stomach onto the deck. He should have bounced off the field. He didn't. He should have...


Panic gripped him and he felt his skin break out into gooseflesh, The fields were down. There was nothing keeping the denizens of Shantytown inside cargo bay 3. Somehow the seal had been broken on Pandora's Box and now it was just a matter of time before someone lifted the lid enough for a peek inside. The entire USS Phoenix lay open and ripe to them and no one knew. No one...


Barnes' eyes went wide and he whipped his head back towards the crowd behind him. Savaar's eyes hopped from the fallen man to Barnes' own. The Vulcan's eyebrow raised, then he turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd, doubtless on his way back to Embry.


He was moving before he knew what his plan was. His deputies gave him confused looks, as did both Chow and Perry, but he didn't notice. He wasn't running exactly, but neither was he walking as he made his way to the line of spectators and the alleys of Shantytown behind them. He was very big; people got out of his way. He was glad of that because if they hadn't, he would have walked over them, through them. As he stepped past the edges of the scene of the brawl, where the daily routine was playing out uninterrupted, he started to have to elbow past people. He did, and they fell, and he barely even noticed.


He had to catch Savaar and...what? Talk to him? Could he convince the Vulcan not to report what he knew about the force fields? He rejected the thought as soon as it had fully formed. Savaar had been alongside Embry from the beginning. If Embry had a true believer, Savaar was it. Then what? Violence? He knew firsthand just how strong Vulcans were; the fight wouldn't be easy, even if he won. He'd also be irrevocably tipping his hand to Arthur, who had made his suspicions clear already. Unless he killed the Vulcan without drawing attention, the news would likely reach Embry before he could and that would be the end of any influence that Barnes had, and any ability to protect the people in Shantytown.


So, even if he reached Savaar, he had no real options. He had to go to Arthur. Despite the number of weapons provided to him by Kass, he grew more keenly conscious of the one he hadn't told her of, but which she clearly knew about. He felt the disruptor tucked into his waistband as he changed his course and began to move towards Embry's office. He didn't want to hurt Arthur, but without Embry's trust, he couldn't influence the older man. If he couldn't influence what Embry did in the cargo bay, Barnes knew that he couldn't be allowed into the rest of the Phoenix. Bold action would be required. That's all there was to it.


To his right, through the crowd about twelve feet away, he saw Savaar on a parallel course with his own. Barnes saw another opportunity for bold action and dropped his head and shoulder. Without hesitation or warning, he plowed into the crowd to his right. Three of them toppled immediately, but he stuttered his step and pushed again, putting down another four. Each of them fell into people on the other side of them and for a moment, the crowded walkway became a game of Human dominoes. He just barely glimpsed Savaar as the cascade of people toppled into the Vulcan. Savaar fell to his knees next to a blonde haired boy, covered from head to toe in blood.


Then he turned and ran. He didn't know if he was running to Arthur, or away from what he'd seen behind him.


SCENE: Arthur Embry's Office


Savaar was using all of the techniques he knew to keep the scowl from his face. He had barely escaped injury when the mass of Humans had suddenly collapsed into him. Now, he was filthy from the dirt that had collected on the deck and his slacks had torn at the right knee. Finally, he had arrived at Arthur Embry's office. He marched in without a word of greeting to anyone nearby...and stopped short at the sight in front of him.


Jacen Barnes, whom Savaar had left behind not five minutes earlier was now standing in Arthur Embry's office. His face was inscrutable, but he loomed over Embry in his chair. Embry looked from Barnes to the arriving Vulcan and smiled. "Savaar. Excellent timing. Mr. Barnes says that he has news that I'll find of interest. Isn't that right, Jacen?"


Barnes nodded. "Yes. I thought you should know...the force fields around the cargo bay are down. We're not locked in here anymore..."


=[/\]=


NRPG: I wanted to call this one "Kidney Stone" because, for some reason, it hurt about that much to get out.

Sorry for the delay.


I have a list of names of both Embry's 'deputies' and Virgo Silsby's 'Secret Police' under Barnes. I haven't done full bios yet, but if you need them, let me know.



Dale I. Rasmussen

~writing for~


Jacen Barnes
Who's Either Playing Both Ends Against the Middle, or is the Middle Both Ends are Played Against