The Harbour Master

Posted on Tue Jun 11th, 2019 @ 12:10am by The Narrator & Lieutenant Commander Meilin Jiang

Mission: S1E3: Moments Of Consolidation
Location: USS Resolute Shuttle Bay
Timeline: MD9 13.30PM

By the time the senior staff arrived in the shuttle bay, the Harbour Master's ferry had already landed.

It wasn't hard to spot in the small shuttlebay, not when the addition of another two Gryphon Mk3's to the flight line put space on the flight deck at a premium. It lacked anything resembling a sense of aeronautics, being a vessel designed for moving through a vacuum. Shaped like a soda can put on its side, a stubby collection of attitude adjustment jets crowned either end, with a slightly warped and much-repaired impulse drive cone sticking out of one end.

The hull was a patchwork of parts, either welded over each other in an odd scabby pattern or seemingly adhere to the hull with some sort of epoxy resin that leaked up through the seams. It had the look of a can that had rolled under a shelf and not been found till decades later, and something terrible had happened to the contents.

And then there was the smell. A methane reek of cheap reaction mass mixed with an overpowering chemical tang, like a chlorine-based gas. Which only got worse as part of the hull dropped away, forming a ramp down from the side. The darkened interior didn't bode well....nor the silence that followed.

Meilin stood at the ready, her hands folded at her waist. When the shuttle door opened, she briefly made the mudra signal to ward evil, but otherwise kept her face diplomatic and friendly. The two security officers who flanked her kept their hands near their phasers, though did not touch them due to orders.

"Is the nurse nearby?" she whispered over her shoulder.

The security officer nodded. "Out in the corridor."

"And she has her script ready?"

Another nod.

"Excellent." Meilin gave a smirk. "Now we wait for our guests to act."

And act the Harbour Master did.

What crawled from the ferry looked insectoid, like a centipede made of tattered leather and oiled metal. Easily twice as long as a man was tall, it quickly skittered down the ramp trailing a series of rubbery and plastic umbilical behind it. Once at the base of the ramp, it reared up, curling back on its aft third to reveal its skittering underbelly. Metallic leg's retracted, curling against themselves like hand steepling together in thought. But it was by looking at the many chittering legs as they folded that some measure of its creation came to mind.

The spars of the legs were metal, but the liver purple harp strings that worked them had the gloss of raw meat. Behind the legs titanium ribs held in pumping organs and clicking, mechanical constructions of unknowable provenance. And at its head, peering down at Meilin and the others was a face. Just a face, tanned skin of some unfortunate humanoid species. The mouth was a taunt stretched O of a thing, with a brass speaker grill protruding lewdly from cracked dry skin. One eye was bright and alive, constantly twitching here and there in a mad palsy. The other eye was littered with five jewels like camera lenses.

"Click I speak on behalf of the Harbour Master," the creature said. Its voice was oddly accented, adding emphasis to every other word in a rolling cadence. It began to speak again, the speaker grill making a loud crackle before it uttered a word. "ClickThe Harbour Master welcomes you to the Sleepers Bazaar, held here amid The Mire by the Harbour's grace and good will. If you have come to seek a trade, you will find peaceable accommodation. If you have not, then you will find yourself and your crew at use to the Harbour Master and the Sleepers Bazaar."

Something hissed and wheezed within the cyborg, though perhaps it was not so much a being using cybernetic implants as a machine using meat to support itself.

Show time. Meilin stepped forward. In moments like these, she was thankful for the harsh discipline of her orphan upbringing in the Taoist enclave, as it lent her a stoic disposition that did not feel entirely sincere. "I am Lieutenant Commander Meilin Jiang of the Federation starship Resolute. We do indeed bring custom to you, but for the sake of mutual safety and future beneficial exchanges, we must perform routine bioscans and security checks. Your understanding and patience is appreciated." She nodded to the two security officers, who stepped forward with their tricorders. "Firstly, in addition to verifying the absence of explosive ordnance, we must ensure that no unfortunate accidents may occur through unintentional commingling of foreign compounds or substances, as this is indeed our first meeting. There is no telling what may transpire."

The...The messenger? The carnivorg? Whatever it was made a series of clicking sounds that rattled and gurgled something deep within its chest.

"Click Scans of micron level resolution are permitted. Narrower wavelength detection will result in punitive penalties and forfeiture of all useable organic composite materials."

The security officers made to move, but Meilin halted them with a raised hand.

"I'm sorry, there must be a glitch in the translator." Meilin effected a pronounced frown of confusion. It would not be out of place on a more exuberant person. For her, her facial muscles protested the gesture. "Could you define 'micron level'? And then elaborate, if you please."

"Click Scans of this Proxy at a level greater than the one-micron wavelength level of resolution are not permitted," The insectile carnivorg's eye lenses twinkled for a moment. "Click random neutrino sampling scans have detected the presence of weapons-grade anti lithium. Also large lots of duranium alloys, and an abundance of bio-neural computational arrays aboard your vessel. As trade items, they are acceptable. You also possess a large and varied genetic sampling. If you desire transport of goods or chattel to the Bazaar, this can be arranged through the Office of the Harbour Master for a fee deducted from the proceeds of any sales."

Meilin repressed her revulsion with practiced resolve. It allowed her to think. "We can sort our own transportation. What we require is...'chattel'...with the same base genome as my own. Some similar, others altered. Do you have such...stock?"

Speaking of sentient lifeforms in such terms offended her sensibilities in every possible way, but she had to know everything she could learn.

“Click A catalogue of available genetic profiles can be made available for a fee processed by the Office of The Harbour Master, as well as a cataolouge of goods and services that can be purchased. For a small fee processed by the Office of the Harbour Master. Scans of micron level and below of the Sleepers Bazaar from this ship will be seen as a violation of market hospitality, and will result in penalties and reparations,” the ghoulish messenger of the Harbour Master intoned gravely.

A bureaucratic Borg.

For the oddest reason, that’s what this… thing reminded Theylan of. As if some damaged drone had assimilated some sort of macabre and dower Ferengi accountant or pedantic Bolian. The Security Chief himself merely kept a silent vigil for a time, content to watch the inter play as it were between the Proxy and Jiang, and by all accounts it seemed like Jiang was more on the squeamish side of things, at least to his mismatched eyes. But then again, the Proxy did engender a certain degree of disgust to any one not at least a little inured to the more devilish aspects of the universe.

“With your leave, Commander.” Theylan gestured with his head towards one of his security officers, indicating the requisite scans and checks. The Andorian himself not exactly dis-interested as to just how this creature operated, though mostly with an interest in eliminated it as efficiently as possible should it be a threat. An “occupational hazard” as it were, that his first thought upon meeting new life (grotesque as it could be) was how to best kill it. He was sure there was some irony in there… somewhere.

Meilin nodded her silent assent. If things went south, they would do their best to neutralize the... Guàiwù... the monstrosity. In the interim, though she was merely attempting to stall the situation until Commander Ritter arrived and perhaps learn a few things as well. From the no uncertain terms dictated by the Harbour Master's proxy, this Sleeper's Bazaar handled in more than just slaves. Far more...

"Our protocols also require a sample of your facility's atmosphere." Meilin knew she was pushing things with her improvisation, but better to find the boundaries now during introductions than later when expectations were formed. "We must test it for compatibility. For our sake and the other market patrons."

“Click A medical implant will be provided to all cargo and crew venturing into the Sleeper’s Bazaar. This implant is a boon granted by The Harbour Master so that all may enjoy the rules of hospitality without fear of Concordance bio hacking or similar biological coercion.”

From within its body a long, many jointed arm unfolded, ending in a vice like metal cuff of chromed steel. It opened the pincer, and ejected a small triangular device which it caught nimbly enough. And then offered it to Meilin.

“Click As a gesture of good will, a sample implant has been provided to you. There are replication safe guards within the design of the implant, and forced reproduction of it will be see as a breach of the Harbour Master’s hospitality and good will. This will result in the levying of fines and the forfeiture of all biological crew onboard.”

The doors behind the welcome team slid open, and in strode Ritter. Rattled as he had been by the day's event, the commander kept his back straight and shoulders squared, calling on his every experience to project the confidence he wasn't convinced he felt. On the other hand, he was sat on a large amount of Starfleet tritanium and technology, and that brought with it a certain calm.

Then he saw the Harbour Master's envoy, and it was just as well Wolfgang Ritter had been hugged so little as a child he'd developed an excellent poker face.

"I'm Commander Ritter; welcome to the Resolute," he instead told the entity smoothly. "Thank you for your cooperation with all of our safety protocols and procedures ahead of this first contact. On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, I give our warmest regards and greetings to you and those you represent." First contact had never looked so bad.

"Click The Harbour Master seeks only good relations all trading partners. As this ship's master, you will be held accountable for its actions. Should hostilities be prosecuted from this vessel against any under the Harbour Master's aegis, you will be held personally accountable. The Harbour Master welcomes all who come to the Sleepers Bazaar to seek trade and good company," the Proxy turned, and with one side of it's chittering leg's gestured to the ferry. "Click This vessel is suitable for the transportation of a trade delegation, or cargo, and is at your disposal for the duration of your tenure here at the Sleeper's Bazaar."

"We don't come in aggression; our people live by principles of self-defence," said Ritter with a smile that did not reach his cold eyes, and even that sobered quickly. "With the nature of your business, I would be grateful for what assurances you can give of the continued safety and liberty of any visiting your Bazaar. As you say, I am responsible for my ship and my people here. So that we do not have to act in that self-defence."

"Click Those visiting the Bazaar as traders and guests of The Harbour Master, do so under the protection of his office. In that respect, all other trade delegations are similarly protected. If any hostile action is taken between parties within the Sleeper's Bazaar, harsh penalties will be afforded the hostile party. The rules of guest and host are sacrosanct here. If you have a quarrel with any party present under the Harbour Masters protection, it is advised that you settle any difference you might have beyond the event curtain of The Mire and tortured space," the Proxy intoned gravely. "Click Any of your species held as chattel or cargo within the Bazaar as registered trade items are also held in protection by The Harbour Master. Attempts to retrieve them without proper compensation will be seen as a breach of The Harbour Master peace."

It did not lay out another line on punishment, or fines, or the proper dispensation of the crew upon this end. It didn't need to.

"Of course," said Ritter, as if the rules of civilised slavery were self-evident. For his part, this was merely another distasteful part of the universe he could go away inside from; compassion was a distraction under the circumstances. There were personnel still in need of recovery. "I'm sure once we meet those hosting any of our people, a mutually beneficial agreement can be reached. As such..." His chin tilted up a half-inch, voice going cooler. "What does it take, and cost, to find them in your Bazaar?"

“Click A catalogue of genetic profiles can be provided to your vessel for a small fee processed by the office of The Harbour Master. This fee would take the form of...” The Proxy trailed off for a second, and a ratcheting clicking sound like the rapid hammering of an ancient manual calculator could be heard hammering away. “Click A) One and one half litres of warp plasma. B) Fourteen litres of saline solution. C) Five ten meter by ten meter sheets of Duranium alloy. D) One antimatter warhead of a single kilo ton yield. E) A donation of biological substrate of suitable neurological complexity in an active state.”

That last one made the Proxy’s camera filled lenses lock onto Meilin as it said ‘of suitable neurological complexity’.

So long as he had options, Ritter didn't fancy bending Starfleet rules when it came to trade precluding him from offering the weaponry or certain chemical or biological supplies. Nevertheless, he looked to Meilin, clasping his hands behind his back. "We would need to consult the inventory to consider the duranium or the warp plasma. Perhaps the saline?" he asked her, in a tone making it clear he was welcoming her opinion. She would likely have a better grasp of the possible consequences of these options.

On the one hand, the saline would be the most easiest replicated. After what he'd seen already, he couldn't deny being uncomfortable at the prospect of handing over medical supplies.

"Click Fourteen litres of saline solution is acceptable. Please provide the amount for quality sampling before processing of the request," the Proxy said. There was a hint of eagerness to its monotone voice.

Meilin tapped her combadge. "Jiang to Sickbay. Begin synthesizing 15l of medical grade saline solution and beam it directly to the main shuttle bay."

There was an awkward pause in the proceedings as Medical went about replicating the necessary quality of saline. In any other meeting, there would be banter or discussion of other topics. instead, there was just...well. What sort of small talk do you bring up with a biorobot made out of metal and a variety of alien cadavers? Fortunately, the moment's awkwardness was broken by the hum of the transporters, as a trio of small barrels appeared before the Proxy. Each of the snow white barrel's was marked with the Starfleet medical staff, and the Proxy skittered closer on its many legs to inspect them.

From within its stepped limbs, a long multi-jointed arm extended and plunged a wicked needle into the top of one of the barrels. An all to biological sounding slurping noise accompanied it a moment later.

"Click This trade good is of suburb quality and is accepted as payment," the Proxy stated with the resolute tone of a judge stating sentence. One of its jewel-like camera lenses glowed brightly, and a holographic data pane appeared in the air. Alien runes and pictograms flickered there, before shuffling and stuttering into Federation standard. Genetic code fragments flickered to and fro. Until it came to rest on six entries.

Flat two dimensional pictures. No names. No hint of their welfare save the fact they were still for sale.

Calhoon the pilot.
Rollins the crew chief.
Dania the Intel's Chief.
Elias the Op's Chief.
Blaise the doctor.
And finally, Sidim the terraformer.

Each picture was blinking with a cross-hatched circle icon.

"Click These are closest to your genetic phenotypes. Honoured Sentients, it would remiss in the Harbour Master's grace, to not point out that bidding on this lot is currently in its final phase. Special dispensation to join the bidding can be purchased for a fee processed by the office of the Harbour Master."

Meilin shot Ritter a glance before addressing the cyborg chimera. "If the bidding is drawing to a close, then state the fee, as we are short of time."

Ritter had kept a cool expression at all of this, seemingly unmoved. "Quite," he agreed. "And inform us of suitable tender for the bidding. The same as the initial fee?" As he spoke, he pulled his PADD from a pocket and, barely looking at what he was doing, dragged up the ship's materiel manifest to know what he even had available to offer and spend. It was not ideal to fund slavers, but they were running low on time. "Are they being sold in bulk, or bid on separately?"

"Click The fee for bidding is in a similar tender as to the fee processed for the catalogue. Pricing varies depending on market values. The higher your bid, the greater the chance for successful purchasing," The Proxy stepped to one side of the boarding ramp of the ferry. "Click As a gesture of goodwill to new trading partners, and to further encourage good business practise, the office of the Harbour Master has waived the fee for entering the bidding cycle late. Please, Honoured Sentients, feel free to accompany this Proxy back to the Sleepers Bazaar. There you will be able to bid what you can afford, for a chance at the ownership of these fine genetic samplings. A stable comm signal back to your ship is provided so you might arrange payment and collection after the bidding."

"Very thorough of you," Ritter mused, before glancing back at the staff present. "That puts you with me, Commander, Lieutenant. Let us enjoy the hospitality of our new friends in business." He didn't know if the Proxy or any others particularly cared if he put on a pleasant face, but it was as much for his own benefit as anything else by now. To smile and nod, to play the gracious guest, to stay at this point as charming as possible. After all, he could escalate from there to more gunboat diplomacy. Once that lid was popped, you couldn't go back.

"Click Very well Honoured Sentients, please follow me," The Proxy began to walk backwards up the ramp, the umbilical cords and cabling reeling back into the darkened interior of the ferry. Events like this were often spoken of in Officer Training Schools, mind games played out in the safety of the cadet halls of the Academy. But Starfleet had not seen fit to send cowards and dullards to Messier 4.

But no one would question a soul for not having a second thought about accepting the tenuous assurance of safety from the Harbour Master.

To set the exact wealth of all our states
All at one cast? To set so rich a main
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
It were not good, for therein should we read
50The very bottom and the soul of hope,
The very list, the very utmost bound
Of all our fortunes.