Without Borders
Posted on 08 Dec 2020 @ 11:52pm by Commander Calliope Zahn & Admiral Zavareh Sepandiyar
Mission:
M1 - Emergence
Location: Planet Obsidian
Timeline: MD 05 1645
1456 words - 2.9 OF Standard Post Measure
Calliope let her eyes adjust to the light inside.
A pair of hurried footsteps emerged from an opaque hanging partition, preceding the arrival of a long-haired woman who had pulled her once brilliantly black hair back over her shoulders in a loose ponytail, the black now just in a few random streaks that had been replaced by gray. She didn’t look all that unlike the people that lived on this world, but it was clear she wasn’t one of them. She was human, without a doubt, and at seeing the woman in the Starfleet uniform, she let out a haughty snort.
“Come looking to loot our supplies?” She asked sharply, “Well, the jokes on you, we’ve nothing to take,” she said, turning her back on her and walking to a table on the far side of the tent where a centrifuge was at work spinning several vials of some neon pink liquid.
"Supply trouble. There's something I can relate to. I'm not here on any official business, though. Actually, I'd really prefer it if I could see someone off the record."
The woman didn't reply at first, she simply picked up a data PaDD, perused its contents for a moment, and then set it down. When she turned around, it wasn't with a friendly smile or warm welcome. It was something closer to disgust, or frustration. Maybe a fair bit of both. "Trying to impress the boss pulling on back channels, 'off the record'?" she replied, making air quotations. "I'm a Doctor, Commander, not an inside man for you. What do you want?" she asked waspishly.
"I'm not trying to impress anyone." Embarrassed, Calliope moved closer to speak low and produced one of the empty vials of Vamiraxil with the drug label prescribed under her previous CMO, and her name printed in caps: ZAHN, CALLIOPE. She'd worn the edges of the label down from nervous handling. "Starfleet won't fill my prescription again. I was hoping you might be able to synthesize it." She rubbed the back of her neck self-consciously. "I can pay for it. Credits, Latinum. Blood plasma if you want it."
Doctor al Havash took the offered vial from Zahn and inspected it before turning her eyes up to the woman. "Vamiraxil?" she asked, "Do you know what I could do with a single vial of this stuff?" she pressed, shaking her head. She started at Calliope coldly, not quite like she was expecting a response, but more like she was evaluating the woman and maybe even coming to her own decision. Once more the Doctor looked down at the vial, rolling it between her fingers.
"Honestly, I didn't know it had any other uses. You *can* synthesize it?"
"Yes, but it'll cost. Maybe more than you're willing to pay," al Havash replied matter-of-factly.
Calliope had a little more than the average bear had to spend. She didn't live like it, but she was fairly flush since marrying Lance. And he'd probably not even blink at a 'medical expense'. She held her padd, ready to make a credit transfer. "How much?"
The tiniest of wicked smirks played on al Havash's lips as she handed the vial back to her, "I don't want your credits, Commander. I want supplies and lots of them; the best Starfleet can offer," she explained, folding her arms across her chest. "I want five Starfleet standard crates of pharmacological reagents, four field replicators, thirty field medical tents and at least one crate of emergency medical kits. Get that, and I'll synthesize the Vamiraxil you're requesting."
It took her aback for a moment, not because she wasn't used to people cutting deals, so much as she was currently not really in a position to shunt supplies *away* from her station. And on balance, that was a lot of supplies. Tens of thousands of times more than her humble prescription went for. Still, she couldn't say no. Here was a way to get the Vamiraxil after all and, really, it would all be for a very good cause. "Three crates of reagent, one field replicator, ten field tents, and the medical kits," she was fairly certain that could be done without making too much of a stir— the replicator and reagents being the most difficult. "When things stabilize on Obsidian Command I can get you the rest. I can acquire supplies for you, through official channels, as a humanitarian cause." She said carefully. Calliope knew she was entering dicey ethical territory. She wasn't supposed to be asking for any quid-pro-quo. People got demoted or drummed out for that kind of thing. "I wouldn't mind the kindness of the Vamiraxil, unofficially."
"You're a big girl, Commander. Get me what I'm asking, and I could give two shits what you do with the Vamiraxil," al Havash fired back hotly. "Do we have a deal?"
She tried not to be offended by the tone. Calliope had seen enough humanitarian aid rendered in the colonies to know they operated on shoestrings, spit, and hope. Often the work took the most dedicated pro bono idealists and fast turned them into cynics. "No, it's not... it's not a 'deal'. It's two mercies. It's just trust."
"Commander, I've dealt with Starfleet for longer than you've been in it. I'm familiar with their 'official channels' and the aid they give 'humanitarian causes'. It helps them sleep better at night to slap that label on the three-year-old crate of hypos their ships drops as they pass by. If the urge strikes," al Havash replied. "So you can call it whatever the hell you like. Get me what I'm asking for, and I'll make sure you have your Vamiraxil," she shrugged. "Call it Humanitarian. Call it Official. Call it god-damned Santa Clause. Just get what I need, and you'll get what you need. I'll even slap whatever label you want on the vial. I have lives to save, and can't do it with the 'aide' Starfleet's provided thus far."
Calliope scratched her forehead and held her tongue during the diatribe. It was probably no use explaining that she could sympathize, having worked the last seven years of her career on a medical frigate. As with most people on the short shrift, action spoke loudest. "Can you arrange pick-ups for shipments into Kalara? I can probably get the supplies to you fastest that way."
She nodded, "Yes." The Federation might have been on shaky diplomatic ground here on Obsidian, but al Havash and her team weren't so unfortunate. The FMC had been making regular rotations to Obsidian since the Federation first made contact. That wasn't to say that their diplomatic relations were picture perfect, but considering all that they did there was help heal their sick, they had a much stronger footing. If this new Commander could get the supplies she was saying she could, that would make that relationship all the stronger. Plus, she might able to squirrel a bit of it away for other causes. It wasn't often she got a hard-line into Starfleet supplies.
"You'll need to give me as much notice as you can, so I can grease the right palms before-hand," she added.
"I can probably tell you now. Just a second. Let me file something..." Calliope put her padd down on the nearby counter and ran through her supply inventories and the shuttle schedule. She filled out a requisition form, signed it as a priority, and picked a shuttle with a flight plan and space to spare. She tapped her teeth with the stylus. "Tomorrow, 0930 Fleet Standard hours? Is that too soon? The next earliest I can arrange arrives at 1545."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow hopefully, "That'll do fine," she replied, daring to let something near hope color her voice. "It will take us a few hours to transport and unload everything, then I can install the replicator and get to work on your Vamiraxil. I'll provide the liquid unmarked and you can do as you like with it," she smirked. "Give me... thirty-six hours from arrival and it should be ready. Is that sufficient?"
That would pick up a little after Calliope would run out of vials on her stretched dosage. "Perfectly, Thank you."
The Doctor gave her as much of a polite smile as she could manage, "Then I'll see you when your medication is ready," she said, already starting to make the list of things she was going to need to get in order just to receive the shipment. "Safe journey back, Commander," she offered with a tone of finality before turning and leaving through the partition she'd come in through, leaving Zahn alone. She'd have her medication for her in time as promised - exactly what she needed.
