STC: Federation Graffiti: Prologue

PROLOGUE

Starbase 11
September 4, 2269

The worst thing about being in the brig was the boredom. There was nothing to do except sleep or sit around and think. No music to listen to, nothing to read, not even cards to play with. Jan Koor, the Calypso’s transporter chief, was currently occupying the cell’s only bunk, asleep and snoring slightly. Since there wasn’t even a chair, Garadun was sitting on the floor with his back to the wall. Starbase security had relieved them of their weapons and communicators – at least as far as they knew. The two men had been given a search after being arrested, but it hadn’t been a very thorough one.
    Which was why security hadn’t found the switchblade Garadun kept in a hidden pocket beneath his jacket collar, or the small stiletto Jan had stashed in his right boot, the sheath concealed in the thick leather. They had no plans to use the weapons, yet it was nice to know they were there. The Starfleeters had also taken their identification and other personal effects – apart from the Orion gold coins both men had stowed in secret pockets in their jackets. Credit chips were all well and good, but nothing beats genuine hard currency.
    The inattentiveness of the security guards said something about the general naïveté of Starfleet and the Federation in general. They were too trusting, too used to a life without hardship. When bad things did happen to them, they were always taken by surprise and deeply shocked that something terrible had actually happened. Getting rid of war and poverty and disease on Earth and other Federation worlds was admirable; yet at the same time the lack of hardships had left most citizens naïve and spoiled with an overblown sense of entitlement they didn’t deserve. Nothing comes for free.
    Bored bored bored.
    Garadun hauled himself to his feet and walked over to the cell’s entrance. On either side of the doorway the force field emitters glowed bright white and gave off a slight hum. Lifting his left hand, he carefully spread his fingers and slowly moved his hand forward until it came into contact with the force field. Energy particles flared visibly and there was sharp sound, not to mention the jolt his fingertips received. He flinched his hand back; then steeled himself and carefully touched the field again, this time dragging his fingertips along the barrier. It wasn’t pleasant by any means, yet neither was it unbearably painful. He took his hand off and gave the field a kick.
    He was turning away when he heard the faint yet distinct hiss of a door sliding open. It was the door beyond the one leading directly to the brig. He took a couple steps back and a few seconds later he heard the brig door slide open. A Starfleet security goon came into view: big, muscled, sandy blonde hair in a brush cut, and a face with about as much personality as a brick. He gave Garadun a vaguely hostile look.
    “You’re free to go. Your bail’s been paid.”
    Garadun smiled, then turned and kicked the underside of the bunk. “Hey, Jan, wake up! They’re letting us go.”
    The Orion privateer came awake almost instantly. “Say what, brother?”
    “They’re letting us go.”
    “About time.” Jan got to his feet and stepped over to Garadun’s side. He smiled at the security officer, showing all his teeth, and the man’s hand hovered over the phaser on his hip for just a moment. The Human was big, but the Orion was bigger.
    Garadun tapped the force field. “You gonna turn this off or what?”
    The security guard hesitated and then pressed a few buttons on the panel next to the entrance of the cell. The field emitters switched off and retracted into the wall. The boys strolled out of the cell and the guard motioned them towards the door. Jan gave the man a condescending smirk and a pat on the arm as he walked by, and they entered the short corridor that led to the brig’s outer office. There were two more red-shirted security guards there, both Human males.
    Cera Rigel, their friend and captain, was also waiting for them.
    Unlike the Starfleet officers, Cera was very attractive. She had captivating green eyes and long, deep brown hair in a ponytail that helped show off her elegantly pointed ears. Her lips were pouty and she had a wonderfully curvaceous figure. She was dressed in black calf-high boots, close-fitting dark grey pants, a tight V-necked shirt of deep indigo, and a stylish black leather jacket. She gave her crewmen a look that was part amusement, part exasperation, and they grinned back without an ounce of shame.
    Cera sighed and motioned them to follow.