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JL Cin Sha'mer & Indi Hawk | "Kings & Queens"

Posted on 241709.29 @ 12:56pm by Rear Admiral Indi Hawk & Rear Admiral Cintia Sha'mer
Edited on on 241709.29 @ 12:57pm

Mission: Non-Plot Log

Sha'mer had seen Indi off this morning. She had lagged behind, knowing that they'd probably run into each other on the station. It had been, what, one week since Sha'mer had sent a message to Sabine that she accepted her offer. Or had it been two? Time, fuzzy, yeah, still. Getting back into uniform sucked. That, Sha'mer had decided early on, was an aspect of the job she hadn't missed.

Another thing she hadn't missed were the padds. And with this specific job came lots of padds. Lots and lots and lots. Each evening, before she left, she managed to clear her desk. Each morning, when she arrived, the desk was overflowing again. Padds reproduced faster than tribbles.

It was a lovely day, Sha'mer noted as she straightened her collar and gathered the crutches. Far too lovely to spend all day in an office. The padds could wait – at least for another hour or so. She tapped her comm badge. "Sha'mer to Indi." The comm system had learned her shorthand well enough by now to know which person to alert. "How about coming down to grab something to drink? Bring some padds if they can't wait."

At the chirp of her combadge, Indi was awoken out of her stupor that this paperwork induced. Ever since dealing with that fight down in Cargo Hold 7, she'd been wondering how to get back into action. She'd had to talk to some people, see what could be done about this. A drink sounded fine just about now. Perhaps even food. "How about we meet in the Cyrano?" she asked after opening the comm. "I can be there in 10."

Almost exactly 10 minutes later, Indi had arrived in France, at a small restaurant called the Cyrano. It was nice because you could both just have something to drink, or decide out of the blue that you wanted a 5 course dinner. That last would definitely not be happening, but perhaps a quick bite would be welcome.

Timezones were a funny thing, Sha'mer reflected. It had been morning in San Francisco, it was early evening here. The sun still shone, but it was slowly sinking towards the horizon, in one of those long, mellow evenings of summer's end. Crickets chirped softly, a sliver of a moon rose in the east. Sha'mer breathed in. The air was heavy with summer smells, citrus and thyme and… other things (she wasn't so hot on all the flower-and-herb stuff).

The inside of the restaurant was small and dim, but they had a large terrace at the back, which provided a great view at the hills which stretched out towards the horizon. As Sha'mer made her way to it, she heard the soft whine of a transporter and smiled. She saw Indi enter the terrace just as she herself settled down at one of the small tables under the wine ranks and waved at her.

Indi smiled as well when she saw her wife sitting down near the back of the terrace. Heading over, she didn't bother to hide the weariness as she unceremoniously dropped down in her own chair. It wasn't necessarily the bad kind of weariness. More like a good thing that she was finally able to sit down in peace and quiet for a moment.

Before they could wave over a waiter, one already approached them, carrying a champagne bucket and setting it down on the empty table next to them. Turning over 2 flute glasses, he smiled broadly. "Only the very best for Starfleet's finest. May I present a champagne, made of 5 grapes, chardonnay, arbane, petit meslier, pinot gris and pinot blanc. No added liqueur or sugar. Production is low, so you won't find it everywhere. Who of you wants to taste?"

Sha'mer looked at Indi, saw the question mark she felt on her own face reflected in hers. What the-? They had been here before, once or twice, but they hadn't been in uniform then – was this the standard treatment for Starfleet officers? Or for Admirals only? Still, uniform meant work meant no alcohol. Sha'mer shook her head and murmured a polite rejection.

"Just a coke for me, please," Indi replied with a slight shrug. "I'm sorry, we're still on duty," she added by way of apology.

A broad smile from the waiter acknowledged his understanding and he looked over at Sha'mer to take her order.

"One espresso, please," Sha'mer said. Normally she'd go for a raktajino, but it was impossible to find a decent cup away from the larger cities. However, she had discovered that they made a mean espresso here, even though this was France, not Italy.

The man's smile seemed to falter just a tiny bit at Sha'mers order, then it returned full force. There seemed to be something manic about the man's smile, but she was not sure if that was just the way he always looked or if it was her mind reading way too much into innocuous matters. "One coke and one espresso, of course, of course," and he vanished with that lightning quickness so many of the French seemed to possess. The bucket and flutes vanished with him.

As the guy had turned on his heels and left, Indi allowed her frown to deepen as she glanced at Cin. "What did just happen here? Is he mistaking us for someone else?"

"He mentioned Starfleet's finest," Sha'mer replied, one eyebrow still raised. "Maybe it's the uniform." But she didn't sound convinced. There was something odd about this whole situation.

"Anyway," Indi shrugged, putting the strangeness aside. "How's your day been going?" she asked.

Her question hadn't fully left her lips yet as the waiter returned with the ordered drinks and a plate full of nibbles. Careful to put it in the middle between them, he nearly sprained his smile. "Bon appetit," he nodded to the both of them and quickly vanished - probably thinking he'd try this tact lest they sent hem back to the kitchen with his plate.

Sha'mer opened her mouth to answer the question, but closed it without saying anything at the sight of the plate. She blinked, shook her head. "Fine, if you like padds," she said, thinking about the growing pile on her desk. "If they toss in a few more, they can begin to build the San Francisco Space Elevator." She took a tiny sip of the espresso and frowned. The last time she ordered one here, it had been good. This one was beyond good, it was perfect. Thus far, the only perfect one she'd ever tasted had been in a small café in Rome, in one of those tiny, out-of-the-way streets known only to locals, not to tourists. That had been, what? Fifteen, twenty years ago? During a short LOA following some kind of stuffy meeting in SFHQ. She could have sworn this was from that same café. But how did that get here?

Before Indi could reply, the waiter returned once more. This time he was holding a plate filled with cutlery. Once he was done laying it out between the two of them, it looked like they were about to have a 5-course dinner. "What the-" Indi started, but bit back her curse just in time. "Excuse me, sir, but what's the meaning of this? As far as I know, we haven't ordered any food."

The man gave them one of those moves that went beyond a nod but just a shade short of a bow. It would have been a perfect gesture, again one that only French waiters seem to be able to pull off (there was probably a secret school for waiters deep in the heart of France where they taught it) if it hadn't been for that same smile. This time, because the man lingered – even though his movements were brisk and efficient – Sha'mer could take a closer look. The man was as hyper inside as out, his mind a mixture of terror and elation. "It's on the house, courtesy of our patron," he babbled in rapid French and began to do his disappearing act again.

Indi tilted her head. Something was dawning in the back of her mind. Something she wasn't sure what to think of it. "And just who is your patron?" she asked with the sweetest smile she could muster.

"Monsieur LeBlanc, of course," the man said rapidly and vanished.

Sha'mer looked at Indi over the rim of her tiny cup. "You look as if something just clicked with you," she said. "Wanna share?"

She didn't bring work home. At least not when she didn't think it would put her family at risk. And so, she hadn't told her wife much about her business with the Earth Syndicate. "I've had this meeting..." Indi started to reply and trailed off. "You remember Dani, don't you? Well, her girlfriend doesn't seem as.. friendly. This feels like her statement to show me who's boss."

"I'm missing the connection." Sha'mer looked at the elaborate table setting again. It was a marvel that all of it fitted on the small bistro table. She appreciated the nibbly bits, but it was still morning according to her inner clock, so a full dinner with all the trimmings was not something she was looking forward to. "Who is her girlfriend and what's that got to do with this?"

Indi was pretty sure they were being watched and possibly listened to. Then again, she didn't really care. She was long past caring about that kind of stuff. "Dani and Zett took over Earth's Syndicate. Our last meeting was in one of Zett's restaurants, and..." she paused, wondering how to put it best. The pause is in itself was more than enough though to already let Cin know what she meant. "It didn't go too well. I think Zett just wants to show me now that she can find me everywhere and whenever she wants while I'm on Earth."

"Earth Syndicate?" Sha'mer tried to recall if she'd ever heard about it before. Her contacts with and on this planet had been fairly limited before she crashed her half-wreck in Spacedock, and even now her knowledge wasn't as up to speed as she liked. But she'd come across the name in one of the padds, awhile back, and coupled with Indi's mindtone yielded the connection. "Former Starfleet officer turned crime lord? Or crime lady, to be specific?" That sure explained some things. "And this is… their version of killing you with kindness?" Sha'mer couldn't help it, a big grin was beginning to form.

"Something like that, apparently," Indi returned the grin with one of her own. She could see the humor in this, assuming she was correct. Not altogether sure what Zett hoped to accomplish, she found it kind of nice all in all. If Zett had other intentions with her or her family, she'd have long gotten rid of her. Indi made a point to not walk around with a Security escort. "I wonder if we can go to any restaurant on Earth now, and get treated like this?"

Sha'mer picked up one of the nibbly bits, a beautiful small concoction of tiny sea fruits caught in a blue jelly, resembling a micro aquarium, and took a bite. Looking at Indi with twinking eyes, she said: "I suggest we find out."

"How?" Indi saw she had an idea. Who was she to not follow up on it?

"Easy. So we both work on the station. Every night we beam down to a different place, just pick one at random. Walk around until we find a place we like, the more obscure, the better. Then see what happens." Sha'mer finished her perfect espresso and washed it down with some water. "Better yet, we don't use the standard transporter, I'll just take us down. That way, there won't even be a trail of where we went to give anyone in the area a heads-up." She set the glass down on the table. "Did you want another drink or shall we leave before they drown us in dinner?"

Indi nodded slowly, her grin widening as her mind processed the idea. It could be fun. "I'm ready to head back. We never agreed we'd make it easy on them," she winked as she climbed to her feet.

Sha'mer did the same, balancing awkwardly on one leg until she transferred her weight to the crutches. "I wonder," she began, and the glint in her eyes became decidedly evil, "if this means it was on the house, too."

"Let's assume as much," Indi shrugged, and walked out without another backwards glance.


by Sha & Indi


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