Paved with Good Intentions Part I
Posted on Fri May 9th, 2025 @ 8:17am by Lieutenant Commander Corin Layal & Lieutenant James Constantine
Edited on on Sun May 11th, 2025 @ 11:07pm
1,378 words; about a 7 minute read
Mission:
Cold Cases
Location: Ing Colony, Outskirts of Syndicate/Federation Territory
Timeline: 2389 Mid-Year
Pressing his hand just above his knee, James Constantine watched the door intently from his place in the uncomfortable chair. It was an old habit, from when he was still training as an Intelligence Officer. He'd realised as a young trainee that his leg would occasionally jig up and down when he was anxious. So he'd taken to resting his hand casually on his thigh, to keep his hand pressed close to the knee and keep it still. Years on and with countless covert operations under his belt, the tell had disappeared, but the habit hadn't.
Daisha Veldi stepped through the door a measured amount of time later. The amber lighting in the dank saloon made her apple green skin appear a few jades darker. She made a small gesture as if she were surprised to see James, even though this was their planned time to meet, then walked over to his table.
"You look like you could use a drink," she commented as she took the seat next to him.
"Fabulous idea," he assured, and thought nothing of motioning for a waiter to get them something strong to be going on with. Rightly or wrongly, he was no stranger to drinking whilst on mission. Sometimes it was required to blend in or build relationships, others he just needed something to get through the days. "You don't," he added, meaning it with how right she looked in the environment. "But have one anyway."
"You know I will," Daisha replied with a wink just as the bartender stopped by the table.
The middle-aged man looked tired but friendly as he gave them each a smile. "What are we having tonight?"
Daisha ordered first, "Saiph whiskey, neat. Please."
"The same will do," Constantine gave the man a firm nod, his eyes following him for good measure as he moved away.
Daisha waited until the bartender was out of earshot and then said with some sympathy, "This whole colony is a shame."
James gave a heavy sigh as he nodded, sitting back heavily in the chair. The words could be taken in many ways, but he decided that all of them worked. "Think there's any chance of saving it?" he asked quietly, deferring to her knowledge. He'd only just arrived for the start of his mission, but she'd been there awhile.
"They've got to want to save themselves," Daisha said softly. Without offering any transition she added, "You can't use Drake anymore." Her eyes drifted to where the bartender was taking out the bottle of whiskey.
Constantine swore inwardly but managed to keep it to himself. He glanced as the waiter put their glasses down, nodding his thanks as he watched him walk away. He pulled the glass close, his jaw tense as he looked into the dark liquid, collecting his thoughts. "Why?" he finally asked.
It was more than just inconvenient. Drake had been instrumental in Constantine's infiltration to the trafficking ring. And more...they had history. He'd known him when they were both younger men. Drake had fallen into the wrong crowd, but had been persuaded to salve his soul by drip feeding intel on the gangs in his sphere. So he'd been an ideal source when he'd needed a way to follow the flow of abducted people to the ringleaders. Was he in trouble? Had he been burned? Had he gotten himself in too deep?
Daisha took a breath as she turned her head slightly toward his. "He's a customer." She slipped her right hand down to his left thigh and tucked a small data chip into his pocket. She let her hand linger a brief moment. "I'm sorry," she added before withdrawing her hand. There was a sincerity in her apology he'd never seen in her before.
Constantine's breath caught on the bitterness in his throat. A customer? He was one of those monsters profiting from misery? He could feel the anger welling up in him. At Drake, for finally crossing the line into something unforgiveable. And for himself, for not seeing through him. For thinking him some peripheral figure that was in over his head. He assumed the chip he'd felt in his pocket was the evidence of his criminal activity. He finally glanced her way; her expression said it all. "Bastard."
Daisha sipped her whiskey and looked straight ahead at the door. "Maybe you'll listen to my advice from now on. Keep it transactional." She wasn't boasting, just speaking the words of a person hardened from years of experience. "We need you to sit tight for another couple weeks or so. We can't pull the trigger yet. Keep doing business with your other associates. We want everything else to look business as usual."
Constantine's gaze remained on the glass that he was moving delicately between his fingers. Sit tight and just do nothing? He finally took a bitter mouthful of his drink, setting the glass down with an audible thud against the table. "We have enough to shut this cell down now."
"Anything your guy did that we can't get another way is a bust, because the lawyer won't put him on the stand. We can shut it down, but a couple of players would walk unless we can convince people to turn quick, and they don't like the risk." Daisha didn't turn to look at Constantine as she spoke, instead she studied the door and kept a careful eye on the bartender.
"Not to mention, the Botchok government is not going to hand anyone over just because we have a warrant. We just need to lure the Kingpin out and we'll wrap it up." Daisha took a sip of her whiskey. "Or so I'm told."
Constantine studied his drink silently for a long moment. And in the meantime, people would continue to be sold and disappear into lord only knew what life. "Is there any chance Drake knows you're onto him?"
Daisha placed her glass on the table and turned her head toward Constantine. "I don't think so. But there's always a chance."
The slightest sneer pulled at Constantine's lip for a moment. That monster had hurt innocent people and betrayed him and the service into the deal. There was no way he was going to let him slip through the net and escape while they let this operation continue to trap the management. He finished his drink in a single mouthful. "I'm on it."
"Those aren't your orders," Daisha warned him. "Not yet anyway. We'll bring him in, but we can't move too early."
Constantine slung the now empty glass down onto the table, watching how it rocked from side to side for a moment until it steadied itself. His whole life had been shadowed by the Intelligence service one way or another. His parents' service...and death. His youth living in an SI compound. And now, his own career, his life dedicated to the cause. It wasn't often he questioned his orders. It didn't mean he never regretted the circumstances of them. But this time, allowing more abduction victims to disappear into the ether...and allow Drake the chance to disappear with them? It rankled. "I understand," he met her eyes, the words light and casual.
The Orion raised her glass to her lips and tilted her head back as she finished the last of her whiskey in one full swallow. "I hope you do. This is bigger than you." Daisha put the glass on the table and stood up. "If you need anything."
She didn't turn back to look at him as she walked out of the bar.
Constantine's gaze lingered on the closing door, studying it aimlessly as his mind whirled. She was right, this was bigger than him. But part of that picture included the victims that would continue to be sold as slaves while they waited. He tapped his nail thoughtfully against the empty glass, considering his options...or whether he had any options left on the table at all.
A Joint Post By
Daisha Vendi
Starfleet Intelligence Liaison
Lieutenant James Constantine
Criminal Investigations Officer, USS Artemis
Starfleet Criminal Investigations Unit
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