***Time Is Too Slow…***
~Chapter 4~
Siegfried stood ready at the door, his hands folded behind his back. He smiled, watching Elenna run towards the bar and Keei, still dressed in her lifeguard outfit, stroll happily by with a rather large chocolate bar in tow. He glanced down at his own clothing and thought, "Well, at least the uniform's not too bad." He then added with a smirk, "And guests tip well."
So far, nothing notable had happened while Sig was undercover… well, aside from the usual. After porting their luggage, many wealthy looking ladies had made several offers to the bellhop to share a drink at the bar, but Sig had politely refused each time. None of them looked like they knew anything about the negotiations anyway.
Until now.
A beautiful human woman was heading straight towards Siegfried. She was obviously not paying attention to where she was walking, for she and a man dressed in Federation robes were talking quietly with their heads close together. Despite her trying to be inconspicuous, nothing could hide the fact that she was drop-dead gorgeous.
"It's always some beautiful woman… couldn't I have found some old diplomat to tail instead?" Sig cursed the heavens above for dealing him yet the same hand again. "You've got some sense of humor up there," he mumbled, moving purposefully towards the two guests.
Sig cleared his throat, catching the guests' attention and halting their conversation. Putting on a cheery, toothy smile, he announced, "Welcome to the Hotel Columbia. Would you like me to take your bags?" He gestured towards the large bag the woman was rolling behind her and a small suitcase her companion was carrying.
"No," the man responded curtly, his expression annoyed. Siegfried narrowed his eyes slightly, noting that the man was grasping the handle quite tightly. Something important in there…
"Ah, very well, sir," Sig replied. "Then may I direct you and your wife to the front desk?" At least they're married, so I don't have to play that card again.
The woman began giggling lightly and the man turned rather red.
"Um, have I said something to offend you?" Sig wondered aloud.
"No," the man said again. "It's just that…"
"I'm not his wife," the woman explained, stifling her laughter. "This is my brother."
"Oh." Siegfried felt dumbfounded for a second. So she is single… Abso-bloody-lutely wonderful.
The man shot Sig a slightly contemptuous, bemused look. Undercover! Be undercover! the bellhop berated himself.
"My apologies for the mistake, sir. I will step out of your way now."
"You'd better…" the man growled. He turned to his sister, "Come, Isabella."
"Actually, Nicholas, I'm quite tired of pulling this enormous bag around. Perhaps he," she glanced at Siegfried, "could be helpful."
"Do whatever you like," he responded gruffly. "I'm going to drop off my things then head for the bar." The man stalked off moodily.
Siegfried pushed the handle down on the woman's bag and hefted its considerable weight with one hand. She turned to him and said, "Thank you for helping me. Nicholas can be so… hostile sometimes."
With an inaudible grunt, Sig responded, "Happy to oblige, Miss…?"
"Reinhart." Isabella Reinhart… Sig thought. "You must be new," she added. "My family comes to the Columbia quite often."
"Ah, so you have regular private suites reserved for each of you already, I presume?"
She smiled, clearly enjoying this friendly banter much more than her earlier conversation with her brother. "Yes. Usually the staff doesn't even bother to tend to us, because they know that Nicholas likes to keep to himself…"
Oops.
"Though this," she turned to Siegfried, "is quite a pleasant surprise. I'm happy to have made your acquaintance, Mr…?"
"Guillaume de Saint-Exupery," Sig lied smoothly, hoping that a French sounding name like the woman's would help her warm up more quickly to him. He was getting into the rhythm of things, hiding his expressions more quickly and putting up false ones more easily. "But most people call me Guy."
*****
"I'm sorry sir, but for the third time, I can not get you six tickets to Cheese on Ice for 7:30 tonight."
"But I need those tickets! And you're the concierge. It's your job to get those tickets for me."
"Sir, you're requesting tickets for 7:30 tonight, and I've called the ticket office twice. They are sold out for the next three nights!"
"Then what am I supposed to do? I need those tickets to Cheese on Ice. Call the box office again!"
Aerial was losing her cool, so she turned to her co-worker, "Kila – please explain to this fine gentleman," she gestured to the man, "that there is no possible way I can get him tickets for Cheese on Ice tonight."
Kila sighed, "Sir, there is no way you will get tickets to Cheese on Ice tonight. They are sold out through the end of the week."
"Fine," the man adopted a sour expression on his face, "Well, I have to bring back something." He turned back to Aerial, "Can you get 6 tickets to the new musical The Hairspray Momma Monologues?"
Half an hour later, Aerial sent the man away with tickets to Daisy's Spoon Harmonica Band.
"May I help the next person?"
Aerial looked up to find the rude man from the elevator.
"Hey, Elevator girl! Baby, you must be a light switch, 'cuz every time I see you, you turn me on!"
She just glared at him, then called "Next person!"
"Come on, baby. I'm just trying to be yours."
"I'm not looking for anyone three intellectual levels below me. Next!"
The man stayed in front of the counter, "Oh, you're one of those girls. Baby, if it's intellectual you want, I can be that." He took a deep breath, "I wish I was a derivative so I could lay tangent to your curves."
"Security!" Aerial yelled.
*****
Katana McCoy entered her bar, a patched up Kinta in tow, and immediately twitched under the conditions.
There was some blond twit crooning like some Terran pop star from the 2000's. It was enough to make a girl cry.
"This cannot be," she muttered under her breath. She turned to Kinta. "I know you said you're allergic to alcohol. Does that mean that you can't mix drinks?" she asked, fully expecting a 'no'. Kinta gulped.
"Ah, I think I can do that..." he muttered under the Doctor's intense view. Katana smiled sharply.
"Good, I'll be right back," she turned on her heel to leave, and abruptly swiveled back to look at Kinta, still standing there.
"Get to work!" she barked sharply. He jumped, and scurried behind the bar, dealing quickly with the exhausted patrons seeking refuge from the caterwauling in beer.
A few minutes later, Kinta's jaw dropped as a vision in a classy red cocktail dress entered the bar. He sharply pulled it back in when he realized it was Katana herself. Katana sat at a bar stool for a moment, crossing miles of legs, complete with inches of death-defying heel.
"A shot of JD, barkeep," she stated, flipping back a mass of dark brown hair. He scrambled to get a glass in front of her. He watched in awe as she threw it back, then grinned.
"I'm off to kill the witch. Ta," she gracefully alighted from the stool, and he watched in something resembling both utter amusement and abject terror as she strode like some forgotten predator of ages past toward the piano.
He continued slack-jawed as he watched her politely wait until the end of the number, and then whisper something into the lounge singer's ear. He then saw her go pale, and dash out of the room, looking like she'd burst into tears. Katana smiled, and took the dropped mike.
"Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in the room, we at the Hotel Columbia would like to sincerely apologize on behalf of your ears." There were some scattered chuckles as she draped herself artistically on the lid of the grand piano, and she whispered something quickly to the Bolian piano player.
"I'd like to perform for you a personal favorite, 'As Time Goes By'," and she smiled widely as the music began to play.
"Play it, Sam," she crooned lightly. And as she began to sing, Kinta's jaw dropped again.
A few sets later, and quite a few more oldies dragged out of the closet later, Kinta was polishing glasses, and the bar was closing up, but there was still a throng of young men centered around the piano, trying to chat up Katana.
Who, at least from what Kinta had gathered in his experiences with her (all few hours), was being unpersonably charming and giddy. She laughed at all the right things, and smiled at no one in particular too long. It wasn't until the tall African looking fellow had escorted a few lingering men out with the promise she'd be there tomorrow, and then sat to chat with Katana did Kinta dare to venture over.
"... 'are you tired? Because you've been running through my mind all night, baby.'" He saw Katana make a face. "I was really tempted to say, 'In these heels, *babe*, I don't think I could handle a slow jog.' Do all you guys use those?" She saw Kinta hovering.
"Oh, Kinta Sun, Cray Whickman, Cray, Kinta," she said, motioning to both men. "Cray's Sec/Tac on the ship," she addressed to Kinta, and turning to Cray, said, "Kinta's been zapped by the Peanut Man here too, so, he's just hanging with us and stuff." Both men nodded, and Kinta sat down.
"So what was that about running?" he asked. Katana chuckled.
"All my bad pickup lines." She made another face. "'My lenses turn dark in the sunshine of your love.' Do people actually *think* before they say things anymore?" Cray laughed loudly.
"I thought the best one was that little dude," he said, and scrunched up his face. "'You're like a dictionary, you add meaning to my life!'" Katana and Kinta laughed.
"I think the worst I've ever heard was, 'Baby, you are the finest thing in the world. I could put you on a plate and sop you up with a biscuit.'" Katana laughed hysterically, slapping her hand on the table, and Cray nearly cried.
Many bad pick up lines later, the trio walked out of the bar, and escorted Katana back to her room (five male attempts to purloin her enroute later), and decided to call it a night, after a very long, stupid, time-travel-y, bizzaro-land day.
*****
Sarah was pushing her cart full o' mini shampoos and soaps back to the depot trying to figure out how she could spy on actual people. The search of the rooms had turned up nothing worth noting, and now Sarah was exhausted. Unfortunately for her, she ran into Kinta, Cray, and Katana. Katana was now wearing a red cocktail dress with pretty sequins. This required explaining. And a lot of it.
"Katana, what are you doing? I thought you were tending the bar."
Katana shrugged. "Kinta needs a job, right?"
"I have a feeling that's not why you left the bar."
Katana flipped her waved hair dramatically. "It's not my fault the hotel cannot hire singers that don't sound like dying cows."
"Tell me she isn't dead or injured."
"She's fine. Physically."
Sarah pushed past them. "I don't want to know. I heard nothing."
Katana grinned, and then so did Kinta and Cray.
*****
Ocala'Dhael did not have the highest expectations for the next few days as she and the Federation delegation walked out of the conference room. There was no way that the Romulan and Federation governments could agree here, which was perfectly alright with her. Her mouth quirked out of its impassive line as she remembered that strange meeting from the night before last.
~*~
It was only their second night at the Hotel Columbia, and Ocala'Dhael was lost. She had gone down to the lobby to ask for a wake-up call the next morning. It appeared the bellhop who had given her directions to her room was quite confused, because she was now in a dark hallway with no other people. Scratch that, one other person. There was a man leaning against the wall underneath one of the few lights. He was a large fellow, and she wondered if perhaps she shouldn't just turn around and attempt to retrace her steps. She would have, if he hadn't called her name.
"Excuse me?" Ocala was thrown off-balance by the fact some strange man knew her name, and her danger alarm was going off.
"I said, Lt. Ocala'Dhael. Of the USS Deity. We need to talk." The man pushed off the wall and started towards her. He had both hands in his trench coat pockets, and because his back was to the light she couldn't make out his face.
"Talk? About what?"
"About the fact that you can't let these negotiations succeed."
Ocala'Dheal felt her eyes narrow and her frown deepen. "Why not?"
"You would be signing the execution writ of the Romulan Empire." The man wasn't very far from her now, only about 2 meters away.
"How do you figure that?"
"I'm from the future. I know what's going to happen. You're the only one who can stop it."
"Why me? And why should I believe you're from the future?"
"Why you? Because your Admiral Reston is never going to be able to see reason unless you make him see it. And as for your doubts about my origins..." He tossed her a small device. "I think you'll find that to be well beyond your technology."
Ocala took the tricorder from her belt and scanned the object, eyes darting between the screen and the man. It had a Starfleet energy signature, and was made from Federation materials, but she had never seen anything near its sophistication. Knowing she was beaten, she turned to the other half of the conversation. "Admiral Reston isn't going to listen to me, even if I tell him space is cold."
"He'll listen because you'll make him listen. He knows you're the only one who knows what opposition is thinking. And you're going to tell him you don't think they can be trusted, if you want civilization for the Romulan people to survive. Think about it." He started to walk past her.
She turned around. "But--" He was gone.
~*~
The less she had to argue with Admiral Reston, the better. It was no secret he didn't really like her (not that she liked him), and she didn't want to meet his temper.
*****
Sarah was chatting with Butler Barbosa around noon when his pager beeped. He excused himself and saw he had a request for room service on floor six.
"Oh, I have to go up there to clean, I'll bring it up for you," Sarah offered.
"Would you? Thanks."
And so, she was off...
*****
And so another round of debates started.
Ocala had decided to simply observe this time, simply watching the Admiral and Romulan butt heads over every issue imaginable. Neither side was willing to budge, and Tempest eventually gave way to boredom. She cast an amused glance at him. Who could blame either one of them? It was boring. She had started to scan a PADD, when the talks caught her attention.
"...we will adjourn to discuss the proposal." The Admiral and Romulan shook hands. She turned to Tempest.
"What did I just miss?"
"Well, it appears they've come to some agreement, and now we're going to look it over and vote. I'm just glad they have something they both want and are willing to concede. I miss the Deity." He stood to follow the Admiral to their private room.
"Wait!" Ocala'Dhael stood up and scrambled after them. The door shut behind her.
The Admiral was in a good mood. This must be some good deal he worked out. And she would have to stop it.
*****
The Admiral sat down behind the round table that had been provided for them. He settled into the plush chair, leaned back, and covered his face with his hands, letting out a sigh. Ocala felt a twinge of sympathy towards him. These peace talks were really starting to take their toll, and she could see that in his eyes. She felt bad for the guy, despite how much she disliked him. And then she remembered that she had to make sure this didn't go through. Oh well, he would have to hold off on being happy for a while. Tempest sat down and she followed suit.
"Well, the Romulans have made an attractive offer. I see no reason to discuss it any further." He beamed at his two companions. "We should be back on the Deity by the morning and heading towards home." Ocala cleared her throat.
"Um, sir, permission to speak?" He nodded permission.
"Sir, with all due respect, I would like for us to hold off on agreeing to this for another few days."
"Why? We already have the best offer we can get, and I don't want to risk losing it." He propped his head up with his hand. "No, we go back out there and seal this."
"No!"
Her sudden outburst brought a startled look from the Admiral and a slightly bewildered look from Tempest. She knew he was going to be mad with her when she finished, but the safety her people demanded she see this through. Sorry, Tempest, she silently pleaded. Please, forgive me.
"Sir, I strongly believe that I can work out a few extra deals with the Romulans. After all, I am one of them. And, with all due respect, I believe they have cheated us anyways. What they are giving up is that worthy to them. When I was part of the Empire, those worlds that we are redefining as part of the Neutral Zone, they had everything valuable extracted from them years ago. They're worthless!" The Admiral reflected on her words. He didn't know whether to believe her or not. The Federation had absolutely no information on these new worlds. Geological surveys from years ago said that the mountains were full of dilithium and deterium, valuable resources. But that was from years ago. He mulled over his options.
"Fine. We'll request 48 hours to check everything out with Starfleet. I don't want any bells to go off, so do whatever you want to do discretely!" His eyes pleaded with her. "I'll talk to the Romulans with our request. Dismissed."
She gave the Admiral a winning smile. Or at least tried to. It was more of a tiny grin that she was sure wasn't convincing. As she left, Tempest followed.
"What was that?"
"What was what?"
"You have no clue about those worlds, do you?"
"Of course I do."
"No, you don't."
"Yes I do. Besides, it can't hurt to check it out, can it?"
"Yes, it can. The Federation doesn't care about those worlds and any resources on them, or lack thereof. We just want the expanded Neutral Zone. Every time we come in and try to expand it, someone screws up something. We need this now." Tempest grabbed her arm, and she turned to face him.
"Well, Tempest, then why did the Admiral agree? Apparently, Starfleet has some interest." Tempest's mouth opened, and then closed.
"Listen, Ocala, I don't know what you're planning to do, just, don't screw this up. There's a lot riding on this, from the Federation's survival to your career." She tried to look as serious as possible, nodded once, and left.
* * *
"Romulan Ale, please." Ocala'Dhael motioned to the server, who retreated to fetch the drink. She was sitting, alone, in a dark corner of the bar. The waiter brought the drink. She sipped from the tall glass, and then coughed. The bartender smirked in her direction, and Ocala scowled. It had been a while. The one thing she missed about the Empire was the Ale. Too bad it was illegal in the Federation. She sighed, and downed about half of the glass in one gulp.
And without any coughing.
Impressive.
She glanced at the chrono. 2310. He was late. Ocala pulled out a PADD full of stats from the last review of the Deity's systems. They would need to be overhauled when she returned. She started pulling up duty shifts. The new security system needed to be installed too. She had designed it herself, and the Deity was to be the test subject for it before it was released to the armada - no, she corrected herself - the fleet.
Ocala'Dhael was engrossed in her reading when a man sat down across from her, in the darkest part of the table. It wasn't until he spoke that she noticed him.
"Ocala'Dhael, daughter of Tremok." She slowly looked up, and eyed the Romulan with suspicion.
"Funny. I thought I was just daughter of Celina, unregarded child of Tremok. I hadn't realized that you were just starting to acknowledge me as your daughter again. Am I not a source of shame for you?" Ocala finished with a sneer.
"Ah, you have spent too much time among the humans, paenhe." Ocala looked shocked at the term of endearment used for a favored child. "The humans have caused you to become too aware of your emotions."
"What happened to your famed Romulan passion?"
"We are a passionate people, but we carefully mask it from others. Remember what the Praector Valir used to say: 'If knowledge is power, than to be unknown is to be unconquerable.'" He leaned over the table. "If I know what you want, what you need, than I can control you on my whim." A smile crept over his face.
Ocala reflected quietly on his words. She hated talking with her father. Or any Romulan for that matter. But he made her blood boil more than any other Romulan. They unnerved her, despite the fact that she was half them. Drawing a breath, she closed her eyes and collected herself. Stick your anger aside, meditate on it later Ocala, she gently chided herself. Opening her eyes, she saw Tremok looking at her, bemused. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of him being right about her emotions, so she didn't say anything. It wasn't until she had sipped her ale that she broke the silence.
"Well?"
"Why did you call me here Ocala?"
"Come now, Father, tell me something about back home."
"There is not much to say."
"What about Bel'Va?" Bel'Va, Ocala's older sister, was the daughter of Tremok and his Romulan wife, Velker. Three years older than herself, Bel'Va had been in the intelligence field when Ocala'Dhael had left. She had always been the favored child out of Tremok's many children.
Tremok sighed.
"She died. About a year ago. After passing her training, she went out on an intelligence mission. Into the Cardassian Union, no less. What reasons were behind it, I don't know, but they must have been powerful. It didn't take the Cardassians long to find her, torture her, and return her broken soul back to Romulus. She died in the government's facilities two months later."
Ocala'Dhael couldn't help but let out a small gasp. The 'government's facilities' meant that she had gone insane. That was the only way that the Cardassians would have returned her, a sign or their superiority, no doubt.
"I'm sorry..." He waved her off.
"No need to be. She died for the glory of the Empire..." His eyes had a reverent glow to them, and then it faded. "Anyways, back to business." Flustered by the news, Ocala took a second for the shock to fade before continuing.
"I've seen what the Federation is offering you."
"Yes, it is an attractive offer."
"No, its not. The technology Starfleet is giving you? It's worthless. I wrote those intel programs myself, and they are not what the Admiral says they are." Tremok thought over her words.
"The Federation would not give us defective technology. We would discover it quickly and retaliate."
"But that's where you are wrong. Its specs are impressive: the discreet scanning, excellent bio readings, ability to gain access to some command codes, and everything else is top of the line. I know the Empire doesn't have it. What Starfleet isn't telling you is that while the program will easily integrate into your systems, it will return false readings. When a Starfleet ship uses the program, it is already equipped with a sigma wave emitter that throws the scans. Sigma waves haven't even been looked at by the Romulan Empire. The sigma waves are incredibly powerful, hard to harness; they can penetrate shields, dig into every corner of a ship. The program will accept the gamma and delta wave emitters that warbirds and scouts use, but those aren't powerful enough. You'll get readings, and they will look much better than the ones you get with your inferior programs, but they'll be wrong, off by just enough that you can't tell. And it will kill every infiltration you try to use it on. I know how lax the Empire tests these things. They throw new technology on ships immediately, too anxious to try it out first. You won't catch it till a ship tries it for the first time. No doubt on some Cardassian Galor class ship. And when you send the minimum amount required to beat their fleet and try to disable their shields with codes, you'll still be locked out. And then, my dear father, you will have lost some valuable resources. No doubt that the Rhinnasu people will be angry, possibly revolt. News of your failures against the Cardassians have reached me in the Federation. Several captains were talking about it. I didn't even have to read the Romulan news to find it out. That is where my program came in. They asked me to build it, wanted to know if it would not work, and I complied." She stared at Tremok, his eyes wide.
"Impossible! Treason! You've committed treason against the Empire!" He stood up, knocking his chair over. Luckily, the bar was vacant except for one or two drunks, and no one appeared to take notice of the argument.
Ocala'Dhael waved a finger at him, smiling. "Father, Father...temper. You don't want to let me know your needs...so I could control you? No?" He sat down.
"It isn't treason, because when I left, you deleted me from Romulan records. I no longer exist as a citizen, just a random half Romulan someone categorized. It's better that way. I don't want any part of the Empire anymore. Besides, do you really think I would have told you all that if I wasn't trying to help you? Come now, I'm not some junior Starfleet officer who's trusting of everyone." Her father's eyes widened again. "I'm telling you about this because I don't want this treaty to succeed."
"So you have betrayed your loving Federation? Are their politics too soft for you?" Tremok asked with a sneer. Ocala just shrugged.
"No, I fully believe in the Federation's mission, but I have strong reason to believe that this is not in their interest. Unfortunately, the Admiral in charge is too old-fashioned to see that times have changed, and out policies must also. Appeasement isn't always right."
"So you want war with the Empire?"
Ocala held up two hands. "No, I'm simply saying that I think there should be no treaty right now. You know as well as I that Starfleet won't give anything else up except this. It's all or nothing. Either you take the technology and shut up, or no treaty." She watched as this sunk in with Tremok. He stood, the dark crimson robes of a diplomat billowing behind him.
"Well, we certainly won't put up with that!"