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==[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: A Deal with the Fat Green Devil==
===by Steve Apple===
SD: 2260.333
Scene: Fat Mickey’s Office
As the pair descended the staircase Corbett whispered to Merrick. “Whatever happens try to stay silent and speak only when spoken to.”
“Listen I’m not 6 and this isn’t the first hostile scene I’ve been involved with.” Merrick retorted.
“I understand that sar, but what I’m telling you is for reasons of respect and not safety.” Corbett gently admonished.
“Since I’m not accustomed to dealing with gangsters I’ll take that as sage advice.” Merrick said as his way of apologizing.
The staircase ended in a dimly lit hallway with a single guard positioned in front of a door at its opposite end. Corbett and Merrick walked toward the guard a very tall very muscular Orion and stopped.
“No girls here go back up.” The Orion grunted.
“We came to see Fat Mickey.” Corbett coolly answered as he appraised the Orion.
“No see.” The Orion said grinning as he drew his knife.
Corbett smiled at the towering giant. “He’ll see us. Now drop the knife and be a good boy and open the door that is if you ever want to reproduce again.”
The Orion could feel Corbett’s pistol being pushed into his groin.
Neither Corbett nor the Orion moved; it was a standoff.
Merrick drew a hand phaser and pointed it at the Orion’s head. “You heard the man be a good boy and open the door.” He said as he disarmed the Orion.
“Markin let the good doctor and his friend enter.” A wheezy voice said from the room’s interior.
Finally the Orion stepped back his eyes glaring at the men.
Corbett withdrew his pistol, but kept it leveled at the being’s groin. His eyes never left the Orion’s as he entered the room.
The room was just as Corbett had remembered it. This was Fat Mickey’s receiving room and office. It was ostentatious and had surpassed being gaudy moving into tasteless. The floor was covered in expensive carpeting that was cheapened by its dark purple color. The walls held gilded crown molding and chair rail, which clashed with its lime green paint. There was an expensive mahogany desk positioned in the center of the room and off to the right side was a gold lamé sofa where an enormous bulk of a green Orion lounged eating a sauce covered rib.
Fat Mickey appraised the pair as they entered the room. “The last I heard you were being hunted by the Vulcan’s and made a hasty retreat to Denobula.” The man said as he motioned for Corbett and Merrick to take seats in front of him.
Corbett pulled up one of the gold lamé ottomans and positioned it in front of the Orion while Merrick did the same. “The rumors of my flight were greatly exaggerated.” He said as he opened his med-kit and retrieved his scanner. He ignored the look Merrick gave him.
“I see you’ve been eating right and taking care of your diabetes.” Corbett quipped as he ran the scanner over Fat Mickey’s bulk. 
“Always the doctor eh Corbett.” Fat Mickey said putting down the rib, which he had picked clean.
Corbett filled his hypospray and quickly injected the fat Orion.
“What the hell was that?” Fat Mickey yelled.
Immediately 4 hidden Orions appeared in the room their knives and pistols brandished.
Merrick had his phaser out in an instance and pointed at their boss.
“Easy there Mickey.” Corbett said as he motioned for Merrick to lower his phaser. “I just gave you synthetic insulin since your sugars are well over a 1,000. I also slipped in something to help your gout. I doubt you’ll run a marathon, but it should make walking to the food replicator less painful.”
Fat Mickey let out a laugh that shook his enormous frame and motioned for his bodyguards to leave. “That’s why I like you Corbett you’re not a preachy S.O.B. like so many other doctors.”
“Ah huh’” Corbett said smiling. “And what other doctors have you seen?”
“Well none since you left, which is precisely my point.” Fat Mickey said. “So what brings you back my friend?”
“I’m here on a personal matter.” Corbett answered.
“I see.” Fat Mickey said picking up another rib. “Who is she?”
A short laugh escaped Merrick before he could stifle it.
“Why is it that everyone always asks that? It’s not always about a woman.” Corbett said trying to sound indignant to both Fat Mickey’s question and Merrick’s chortle.
“Because with you my dear doctor it always is.” Fat Mickey said licking sauce from his fingers. “You saw Alia. I assume.”
“We ran in to each other.” Corbett answered cautiously.
“She was heartbroken when you left.” Fat Mickey relayed. “She came with me because she thought maybe she could hunt you down someday. You know the old Earth saying, Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
“I didn’t scorn her I just needed to make a hasty exit.” Corbett said to the Fat Orion as he shot Merrick a look that said don’t even think of asking.
“So Stile, tell me if it’s not a woman why have you come to see me?”
“I need unmarked transportation for 3 to and from Arcturus from a reliable source that won’t ask questions.” Corbett answered
“And you think I might be able to provide such transportation?” Fat Mickey asked while using a dirty napkin to dab at the sauce, which had spilled down his chin.
“Something like that.” Corbett said. “I think you might know the right people to help.”
“Go on Stile you’ve peaked my interest.” Fat Mickey said leveling his gaze at Corbett.
“I assume that you’re still have certain connections?” Corbett asked then paused while he waited for an affirmative nod from Fat Mickey.
“I might know of a few beings that could help.” Fat Mickey said.
“I thought you might.” Corbett answered with a slight smile.
“How unmarked do you want it to be and how direct of a route will you want it to take?” Fat Mickey asked.
“Cloaked would be nice, but we’ll settle for unregistered and I want it to get us to Arcturus yesterday.” Corbett said.
“I see. Well based on your requirements I’d say it will cost you in the neighborhood of 35,000 credits give or take a few for greasing the local cogs and wheels.” Fat Mickey responded.
“15,000 not a credit more.” Corbett said stone faced.
“I couldn’t even get you passage on a garbage scow for that amount.” Fat Mickey complained.
“20,000 my final offer.” Corbett said.
“I’m going to have to take a personal loss in this transaction, but I’ll do it for 25,000.”
“Done.” Corbett said then decided to push his luck. “Also I’d like a few I don’t know, let’s say big ass guns.”
Fat Mickey spit out a short laugh at Corbett’s requests while the blood drained from Merrick’s quite somber face.
Shifting his bulk the Orion managed to scoot himself to the edge of the couch and motioned for Corbett and Merrick to give him a hand up. After some struggling Fat Mickey made it to his feet and waddled over to his desk.
Corbett could hear the slight cracking of wood as Fat Mickey leaned against the desk for support and reached up underneath its lip to press a button.
A section of wall opened up opposite the sofa exposing a number of weapons. “What would you like doc?” Fat Mickey asked with a wave of his hand at the arsenal. “I’ve got Fleet, Romulan, Klingon, you name it.”
“I did not know I was in the presence of an arms dealer sar. I dare say I would have shown you more respect.” Corbett said amazed at the weapons in front of him.
“Arms dealer, no no no my boy. Just a few items I keep around for self defense.” Fat Mickey said smiling.
“Pick out what you think we’ll need.” Corbett said to Merrick.
After a few minutes Merrick had finished pulling down the weapons they needed.
“How much?” Corbett asked his amazement gone and his voice sobering.
“For you Stile, I don’t know.” Fat Mickey said then paused.
Corbett knew the Fat Man was appraising him, deciding how much he could gouge him for.
“I’ll tell you what,” Fat Mickey said. “Since these models are slightly used I won’t charge you a thing provided you bring them back.”
“Your generosity astounds me Mickey.” Corbett said suspiciously.
“Nonsense,” Fat Mickey replied. “For all the times you’ve treated me it’s the least I can do.”
“Never let it be said that you don’t do the least you can, eh Mickey.”
“There is one thing though.” Fat Mickey said smiling.
“Of course there is.” Corbett said waiting for the gouge.
“It’s just a little thing.” Fat Mickey said. “The guns are mine, but unfortunately the power cells and ammo would have to be supplied by an associate and he’ll want cash.”
“How much cash?” Corbett asked not bothering to hide his annoyance.
“15,000 credits, which by today’s market price is very fair.” Fat Mickey said trying to look put out.
“I see and what about delivery of both the guns and accessories?” Corbett asked.
“Delivery is free; however, handling is another matter. That’s going to be an additional 5,000 credits.”
“As I’m not in a position to negotiate these items I agree to your terms and fees.” Corbett said reluctantly.
Merrick looked pained at the amount of money Corbett had spent in a matter of minutes. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain this to the Captain or make an accounting to the Fleet bean counters. He was about to negate the entire transaction when he remembered that the doctor had set up an untraceable account with 50,000 credits.
“That’s a good man” Fat Mickey said. I shall have everything aboard your transport waiting for you.”
“It better be and the transport I expect something nice Mickey, or so help me God I will make your gout come back with a vengeance.”
“I assure you Stile you will be very pleased.” Fat Mickey said. “Now as to the matter of payment you can use my terminal to transfer the money.”
Corbett entered his banking codes into the computer and transferred the money to Fat Mickey’s account.
Fat Mickey turned the computer monitor toward him and frowned at the screen. “It seems there has been a slight banking error my friend, only half the money was transferred.”
“That was not an error Mickey. I’ve been in your acquaintance far too long to blindly give you 45,000 credits.” Corbett said staring the Fat Man down.
“I’m hurt Stile. After all this time you don’t trust me.” Fat Mickey said sheepishly.
“Acting coy does not go with someone of your enormous,” Corbett paused for a moment then said. “Stature. What I trust is that the ship and weapons will be as high quality as you say and that you will do everything in your power to keep me alive so I that I will return to pay you the remainder owed.”
“And what if you die?” Fat Mickey asked his wheeze getting worse with his anger.
“Then fire your associates for not doing their job.” Corbett said unsympathetically. “Besides even half is more than double what fair market value is at the moment.”
“Fine, but only because it’s hard to find a good nonjudgmental doctor these days.” Fat Mickey said giving in.
“I’m glad you’ve come around sar.” Corbett said smiling. “Now onto logistics, where do we board the ship and how will you get in touch with me when it’s ready?”
Fat Mickey bent down to the computer terminal and pulled up a map of the area. “There is a landing zone for ships carrying construction materials about 50km from the main space port.” Fat Mickey said. “That’s where you will rendezvous with my accauintences.”
“Again my second question, how will you get in touch with me?” Corbett asked.
Fat Mickey waddled over to the sofa and pulled up one of its arms and retrieved a small plastic rectangle. “Here.” He said handing it over to Corbett.
“What is this?” Corbett asked.
“It’s called a cell-phone. It was a widely used communication devise about two hundred and fifty years ago on your planet. I had several towers brought from Earth awhile ago and strategically placed so I could use it.”
“At the risk of sounding naïve, why?”Corbett asked.
“Because my good doctor it operates on a frequency so far below that of modern communicators that no one picks up the signal.” Fat Mickey said.
“And by no one I assume you mean the authorities.” Corbett said nodding his understanding.
“Very good.” Fat Mickey said grinning.
“Then we shall take our leave of you sar.” Corbett said as he walked to the door and motioned Merrick to join him.
“No.” Fat Mickey shouted. “Use the back door it leads to the alley. I can’t have my patrons seeing you coming through the curtain upstairs. Next thing you know they’ll all want to know what’s down here and Markin will be stabbing paying customers.”
“Perish the thought.” Corbett said then added. “I have a Denobulan friend upstairs if you would be so kind, please have her escorted around back to meet us.”
“She’ll be there in 5 minutes now go.” Fat Mickey said.
“A good night to you sar and please give Markin our best.” Corbett said as he and Merrick headed out the back door.
Respectfully Submitted
Steve Apple
Stile Corbett, MD
CMO, USS HOOD, NCC-1703
ASR: ORIGINS
==[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Procuring Equipment, Part One==
===by Daniel Belin===
Weapons
Location: New Detroit Town, Arcturus
DeSimms was walking through a seedy part of a seedy town. He wish he had updates on how Steele or Gar were doing. Steele said he would be in contact when he found a place to use as a base, and Gar was probably off in a Arcturan 'Entertainment house'. While, yes, he was getting info, he was having 'fun' doing it. DeSimms however, was walking through a rancid street with a oily bar on one side and a chemical refinment facility on the other.
He had several contacts in New Detroit and all over Arcturus, as Arcturus was a great place for smugglers or ex-SpecOps guys to settle down or run operations. While yes, part of Arcturus was a tourist haven, the other 60% was a combination of chemical refinement plants, bars, brothels, and shops of a more seedy nature. In New Detroit, there was one shop run by an ex-operative named Norm. God, he hoped Norm remembered him.
Suddenly, the place was upon him. It was under a brothel, with the bulk of the shop underground with only several plate glass windows at surface level. DeSimms lowered himself into the shop, and was pleased. He had landed precisely where he wanted to. Through the smoke and dim lights, DeSimms saw enough equipment to take over a small colony,
He noticed a small shadow in the light. It was too small to be Norm, and too big to be nothing. DeSimms saw the glint  of a knife inches from his throat, which spurred him into action. He grabbed the attacker by the arm and pushed them down to the floor. A light from a passing car illuminated the figure, who was not an assassin or a merc, but a beautiful Deltan woman from the establishment upstairs. He gasped in surprise, which distracted him long enough for a old-style Glock to be put to his head.
The man with the Glock roared, "Who are you?"
"DeSimms, John. Operator 513, Echo Platoon," yelled DeSimms, guessing from the voice that it was Norm.
"John? Well, then. Sorry about the gun, can't be too careful you know," said Norm, pulling his finger out of the trigger guard. He gestured to the Deltan, and she left through a passage leading upstairs. DeSimms gestured to the door with a raised eyebrow, and Norm responded, "Yes, the girls seem to know how to defend and attack. Not that they always need to. Thats why I always try to get a Deltan or Orion for security purposes. Chat aside, what can I do for you?"
"I need-"
Norm interrupted DeSimms, "Let me guess. You are on a black op and you can't leave a paper trail or look like Starfleet. However, you need to be armed with enough firepower to take over Panama."
"That is a shameless approximation, but nevertheless correct. We need a lot. Gear, Weapons, Grenades, Covert Ops equipment, and a quick way to get around planet-side."
"Wow. Well I guess you're appropriating said provisions, so you get first pick," said Norm. DeSimms pointed to a sawn-off shotgun that looked like a relic from the old days. Norm picked it up along with a shoulder holster for it and a bandolier already filled with 12-gauge shells, "What else would you like, DeSimms?"
"The Thorian Disruptor."
"Excellent choice, sir. It fires 1000 pulses of plasma energy a minute, and is definitely one of the more powerful handheld weapons. He handed it over, with a second holster."
"Anything else for you?"
"For me, just some ammo. The old .357 Mag, maybe five boxes, and .38, maybe 2 boxes."
".38 is for you? I thought you carried a Python."
"I do. The .38 is for a friend."
"I'll give you all this as a friend, DeSimms. Well, OK, not Annabelle. That you will have to return to me in working order. Now everything for your team will start adding up. What do they need?"
"OK, I need one 40mm grenade launcher. As well as the flechette, plasma, and HE rounds to go with it."
"I'll loan the launcher to ya, but the ammo will knock you down about 200 credits."
"OK, I'll pay," said DeSimms, looking at the 3000 or so credits he had. He would chomp a considerable amount out of his budget for all his purchases. He sighed and continued, "Ten Klingon disruptors and two plasma carbines."
"Run you about 1000 credits, for that."
"Finally, I need a .416 caliber rail gun for sniper use. With optics and ammo."
"1500 credits for all that. In terms of covert ops equipment, I can give you old style camo-netting, stealth gear, and rope for 200, but anything else you need to get from someone else."
DeSimms sighed. He was almost over budget, so his buying days were over. He asked about the vehicle, and Norm balked. DeSimms knew Norm had something, but didn't want to give it up. So DeSimms reached over, and grabbed the forty-something year old man by the collar. He asked in the same conversational tone, "What do you have?"
"Nothing of use to you," said Norm, escaping from the chokehold. DeSimms looked at hi, "Alright, Alright. You have to give me something for collateral."
"No."
"Yes."
"DAMMIT NO!"
"You are a great friend," exclaimed Norm, "I should have let her kill you when she had the chance, now that you are wheedling me for every good thing in this shop."
Norm opened a door to a garage, and inside lay a hoverbike. The kind used by Earth Police and reckless teenagers. Something was different about this one, it was bulkier and longer, with a double seat. DeSimms raised his eyebrow, and Norm responded, "Yes, it is a hoverbike. Standard design, just with an increased top speed, storage compartments, and a mount for any weapons you might want to put on it. Oh yes, it does have seating for two. I want this back or I will send every bounty hunter I know looking for you."
"Understood," said DeSimms. He forked over the 2700 credits and packed the stuff into carrying cases. He now looked like a tourist whose hotel reservation had not worked out. He figured he could go have a look at procuring basic provisions and gear after he secured this stuff in a shuttleport locker in New Moscow. He gave his salutations to Norm, and packed his stuff into the storage compartments. He revved the motor up like a bandit, and drove off into the setting sun.
Norm looked at his favorite Glock and said, "God, I hope he brings the stuff back."
NRPG: I have a feeling that Corbett's weapons are not going to work. They are freebies, from an Orion none the less. I hope Steele and Gar are doing their respective assignments.
---
Daniel Belin
John DeSimms
Operator 513, USS HOOD
NCC-1703
ASR: ORIGINS


==[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Beginning Of An Apology==
==[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Beginning Of An Apology==
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ASR: ORIGINS
ASR: ORIGINS


==[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Little Kitten, Big Cat==
==[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: Little Kitten, Big Cat==
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