Disclaimer: Everything belongs to someone else, etc., etc., etc. I'm not making any money, I'm just having fun with the characters. Wish I'd thought of them first.
Author's Notes: This story was written a long time ago but never posted here. Inspired by TOS' "A Piece of the Action" as well as the TNG episodes with Captain Picard as Dixon Hill. Besides, I think Hoshi would make one heck of a gangster's moll. Thank you, Ozchick, for betaing. Mild spoilers: Seasons One & Two.
Hoshi adjusted the slinky red dress where it hugged her hips. She stepped into the high heels, then draped the red shawl around her shoulders. The shawl didn't really cover anything, she noticed as she looked in the mirror. The lacy fabric served only to give a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage and shoulders.
What she had done with her hair, though, really changed her appearance. She certainly wasn't used to seeing it hanging in heavy, curly masses.
Too bad it was all for a mission on the planet below them. At least she'd have the satisfaction of seeing how her fellow officers reacted to the way she was dressed. Sometimes, wearing the same old uniform day in and day out, she thought they probably forgot she was a woman.
She picked up her small clutch purse and checked herself one more time in the mirror, then headed out of her cabin to the launch bay.
A crewman's wolf whistle echoing down the corridor announced her arrival as she opened the launch bay door, and she suppressed a grin. Putting a bored pout on her face and a seductive sway in her walk, she strutted into the bay and got the reaction she was hoping for.
All three men stopped what they were doing and stared at her. Jon's eyes bulged, Trip swallowed convulsively, and Malcolm seemed to be having a revelation, his astonished expression changing to a dazed smile. There was a stretched-out moment as she walked toward them, the only sound the tapping of her heels on the deck.
As she reached them, Travis stuck his head out of the shuttlepod. Looking her up and down, he said, "Boy, Hoshi. You clean up nice."
"Thank you, Travis," she said demurely. She gave him a disarming smile and reached to take his offered hand. Before she stepped into the shuttlepod, however, she looked at her stunned superiors, who were dressed in wide-lapeled suits and narrow-rimmed hats. "You all clean up well, too."
They stared after her as she entered the shuttlepod. Jon was the first to recover, and stated the obvious. "We look good, but not as good as she does." And with that, he turned and followed Hoshi.
Trip and Malcolm scrambled in after him, Trip managing to claim the seat closest to Hoshi. "Wow, Hoshi. You look... Uh, don't you think it's a little much?"
"Much of what?" she asked innocently.
"Actually, it's not so much 'much' as it is..." he paused to gulp, "...not much."
She looked down, held the shawl away from her chest, and said, "Gee, I could have sworn there were sleeves when I put this on."
"Not to mention a front," murmured Malcolm, who had turned around in his seat and was looking fixedly at her decolletage.
She threw him a sultry look and wrapped the shawl back over her chest. "Just getting into character," she said with a flutter of her eyelashes.
Jon, seated near the front where Travis was running down the launch checklist, broke into their conversation. "Everybody needs to get into character."
The planet was pre-space flight capable. When a one-man independent vessel from Earth crashed there, Enterprise was instructed to retrieve the pilot -- or his body, as the case may be.
According to information provided by Admiral Forrest, Hadian culture had ingrained paranoid tendencies. If the Hadians discovered that the pilot, Williams, was an alien, they'd likely presume he was a precursor to an invasion, and that would damage any future relations between Earth and Hadia.
Hoshi had been able to put together a fairly comprehensive picture of the culture from Vulcan orbital surveillance data and the planet's audio and video communications. The closest thing she could compare it to was Chicago in the 1930s when gangsters ran shadowy but powerful organizations. There was a global government on Hadia, but it was ineffectual, and gangster-like groups actually provided more order than the government did.
As the shuttlepod entered the planet's atmosphere, Hoshi tucked the PADD she had been using to review the Hadian information into her purse. She couldn't help but notice the delicate tracery of webs between her fingers. One of the few outward differences between humans and the inhabitants of the planet were the webs on their hands. The webs were vestigial, no more than a half inch long, connecting the bases of the fingers to each other and the thumb. Doctor Phlox had done an admirable job grafting the pseudo webs to the officers' hands.
The other important difference could be covered up as long as those on the mission kept their footwear on -- the real natives had six toes on each foot. The extra one was tiny, barely half the size of the next smallest toe.
Since Admiral Forrest had been adamant that they couldn't allow the Hadians to know they were offworlders, the slight alteration to the landing party's hands was necessary. The only one not altered to look like a Hadian was Travis, who would fly the shuttlepod back to Enterprise after dropping them off in a remote area.
"These shoes weren't made for walking," Hoshi complained as they trudged along a deserted country road. Bending over, she took off one shoe, then the other.
Jon and Malcolm walked ahead, but Trip stopped while she removed her shoes. "It won't be much longer, Hoshi," he said. "Surely there'll be a car or somethin' along soon and we can hitch a ride."
"This has got to be the weakest part of the plan," she said, taking his arm as, barefoot, she resumed walking.
"You know we couldn't take a chance on being seen landing."
"I know, but the way my feet feel, the transporter is beginning to look good."
Trip gave her an amused glance. "After what happened that one time you used the transporter and you thought Enterprise was being sabotaged by aliens?"
"Well, maybe not, but my feet think otherwise."
Hoshi heard the sound of an engine in the distance and saw Jon and Malcolm slow down. She and Trip caught up with them just as a rattling old vehicle crested the hill in front of them, heading down the road in their direction.
Waving his hands, Jon stepped out onto the road, but the vehicle didn't slow down. It veered to miss Jon and sped on its way, smoke belching out the rear.
"That wasn't very neighborly," Trip remarked, taking off his hat and wiping his brow.
"Maybe the next one will stop," Jon said.
The group resumed its march toward the town they had targeted as the best place to begin their search for the missing pilot. Scans from orbit had shown a faint trace of antimatter in the vicinity. Since the Hadians didn't have antimatter, the only conclusion was that Williams' ship had come down somewhere in the area.
They walked for another twenty minutes before Hoshi, who was plodding along at the rear of the group, heard the sound of a motor behind them. Her feet hurt so badly she considered lying down on the pavement as an improvised roadblock to stop the vehicle. But then she had another idea.
"All of you get over there in the bushes where you can't be seen," she said. As the men stared at her, she added hurriedly, "I can hear another vehicle coming. Get behind those bushes until I tell you to come out."
Jon started to smile. "Come on, men. I think what Hoshi's planning might work."
After scurrying behind the shrubbery and ducking down, Jon, Trip, and Malcolm peered out from behind the leaves. They watched as Hoshi hiked her skirt up a bit and let the shawl trail down her back over one shoulder. Malcolm growled as he realized what she intended to do, and Jon put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder to keep him in place.
As the vehicle came into sight, Hoshi turned to face it, standing in a seductive pose at the edge of the road. Thrusting one hip out, she rested her hand holding the clutch purse on it. From the other hand she dangled her shoes.
The vehicle, which resembled an old roadster, slowed as it approached her. Hoshi smiled when she saw the lone occupant was male.
The vehicle pulled over to the side of the road, coming to a stop next to her. "Hi," she said as the man lowered the window.
"Hi. What's a pretty thing like you doing out here?"
"I need a ride into town."
Some things were a universal constant, she thought as he gave her the once over. When he didn't say anything but instead stared at her feet, she looked down. Damn!
"Ah..." she started, trying to come up with a reason why she was short a digit on each foot.
The man's gaze returned to her face, and he wore a speculative look. "You've had that surgery done, haven't you?"
"Ah, well, yes, I have," she said, hoping surgery explained her missing toes.
"I've heard about you women."
Hoshi didn't mistake what kind of women he was talking about. Prostitution was an accepted occupation on the planet, and during her research she had found out that sometimes the women would alter their bodies to make themselves more attractive. She hadn't known, however, that the removal of the smallest toe was considered titillating.
Emboldened by his reaction, she gave him a sexy smile, leaned against the vehicle, and tossed her head, causing her curls to flounce around her face. "You give me a ride into town, I might even tell you what else I had surgery on."
Grinning, he opened his door and hopped out. He motioned for her to get in.
"There's one thing I need to tell you first," she said, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. She hadn't realized until he stood that he was almost as tall as the captain. She wouldn't be able to block his view, so she took his arm and turned him away from where the others were hiding.
"What's that?"
"I have some friends who also need a ride."
At the sound of footsteps, the man turned back around. All the blood drained from his face as he took in their appearance. "Oh, no! I'm not getting involved with you!"
Hoshi maintained her grip on his arm, although he wasn't struggling. "All we want is a ride," she said.
"This is Poltorn's territory, and you don't work for him. I know what all his hoods look like, and you ain't them."
Jon muttered under his breath. The team had gone over the politics of the area as part of their preparation for the mission, and Poltorn was the minor gang boss who ran this area. If anyone knew anything about the missing pilot, it would be the local gang boss. Jon gestured for Hoshi to say something.
"We want to meet Poltorn," she said. "My boss has a proposal for him."
"Why doesn't he say so himself?" the man asked, looking at Jon suspiciously.
"He has a...speech impediment. He gets very mad when anyone makes a big deal about it."
"You his mouthpiece?"
"You could say that," Hoshi said with a genuine smile this time, thinking about her efforts -- which turned out to be futile -- to teach Jon, Trip, and Malcolm the Hadian language.
When Hoshi's smile wasn't enough to convince the man to allow them into the vehicle, Malcolm reached into one of the outer pockets of his suit jacket as if to retrieve a weapon.
"All right!" the man gave in. "Get in."
