Fic: Fair Trade part 1

[so_jang]

Title: Fair Trade
Author: me! the Oparu.
Rating:PG-13, technobabble, blood, angst
Notes: Remember that clip I was obsessed with? The one with Beverly's crazy hat? Yes, well... Link to TNG clip

Betaing & thanks:miriel helped me with the idea and gave me happy thoughts when I got stuck. **lanna_kitty** the hallowed and loved, betaed this like there was nothing else going on in her crazy life. She helped with characters, plot, grammar...everything!!! She rocks.

Summary: When Captain Picard disappears on a shore leave on a nonaligned world, the away team goes under cover to try and find him. Worf uses an unorthodox cover story and it spirals out of control. Crusher/Picard with significant Riker/Troi leanings. (yes, I wrote another damn babyfic...)


“The alien in the corner has seen the Captain and I believe he will tell us what he knows,” Lieutenant Worf growled into his drink. “For latinum.”

“Don’t suppose you happened to bring any?” Commander Will Riker teased as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his long sweater. “Let’s get this over with. Nonaligned worlds make me nervous.”

Worf looked away for a moment and Riker wondered if he was trying not to smile. Worf managed to turn his inappropriate smile into a glower. Will buried his own amusement beneath the thought that in the end it might be as cheap as a few bars of latinum to get the captain back. Letting Worf lead him to the table, Riker tried not to think about whatever gunk on the floor he was getting on his feet. He wasn’t wearing his real boots, of course, but sometimes it surprised him just how dirty it was off of the Enterprise.

The table was grimy as well, somewhere between sticky and just plain dirty. Will’s sleeves stuck slightly as he sat down. The alien leered at them greedily. He had round black eyes and a leathery face that looked like it had been balled up and left to dry in the sun. Leaning forward on his crossed arms, he decided to press the urgency of the matter.

“My friend tells me you might know something about the man we’re looking for,” Will asked briskly.

The alien looked back and forth nervously before leaning slightly forward. “The only reason I’m talking to you is because I have a sister too,” he replied secretively.

Surprise turned Will’s eyes to Worf and he started to realize he wasn’t going to like where there was heading. Worf could be surprisingly devious when it came to retrieving information. The big Klingon did not disappoint. In complete seriousness, even with a touch of sympathy in his voice, he explained why the alien was so concerned with family. “I explained to him we were looking for a man who impregnated your sister,” Worf said.


Will managed just barely to keep shock from his face as he tried to dredge up the shame he should have all over his features. He was wondering just how Worf had come up with that story and why it was his sister, not that he had one, when he caught Beverly moving into position on the alien’s right. Will’s mind contorted slightly and suddenly Worf’s plan was irresistibly brilliant.

“So, you can imagine how much this means to me,” Will added for the alien’s benefit.

The alien was too happy to agree. “Family honor is important,” he began smoothly losing some of his nervousness. “If someone had defiled my sister, I would do anything, pay anything, to find the one responsible.”

The alien was raising the bet, seeing how high Will was ready to go.

“How much might anything be?” Will asked harshly. He and Worf were dressed as traders or merchants, not the kind of people who would be carrying large sums of money.

“As much as five bars of gold pressed latinum,” the alien asked slickly losing his nervousness now that they were discussing money.

All Will had to do was scratch the back of his ear and make sure Doctor Beverly Crusher, currently under cover as well, saw it. The trigger of her phaser made a sharp chirp as she pressed it into the ugly little alien’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” she snapped sharply and Will had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. She was going to kill him when she found out the part he had assigned her in the charade. “I didn’t quite hear you. How much latinum is this going to cost?”

The little alien stiffened upright in his seat.

Will took full advantage and pressed his moment. “That’s my sister,” he began adoringly but then changed his tone to one of fear. “She’s angry. She’s got a vicious temper, I wouldn’t cross her.”

“Did I say five?” The alien asked softly trying to sound jovial when his enter body remained ramrod straight. “I meant three.”

Beverly dug the phaser deeper into the alien’s neck and the squeezed it a little tighter. “Two and five slips,” she demanded harshly.


The alien recognized both defeat and the ire of a scorned woman. Nodding once, he said, “Tomorrow morning. There’s a street market half a kilometer from here. Meet me by the poultry vendors at just after sunrise.”


Worf looked to Will who seemed to be playing the leader. Reaching for Beverly’s hand under the pretext of calming her, he squeezed it reassuringly. They finally had a lead on the captain’s whereabouts after nearly almost a week of searching.

“Done,” Will agreed with a nod of his head. When he wrapped an arm around Beverly’s waist she let it settle in, even rested her head against his shoulder. He started to grin when he realized that position let her glare at the alien as he left, even keep the phaser surreptitiously pointed at him.

Across the seedy bar, Deanna Troi slipped out after the alien and watched him for a few moments before returning to view in the doorway. She nodded as if to say he’d beamed away. Will led Beverly towards the door, keeping his protective arm around her. Worf followed and Deanna met them in the alley behind the bar. Back there the smell was worse than it had been in the bar, refuse mixed with odors of several different alien species. Will spared a moment trying to decide if Beverly was letting him keep his arm around her because she was still holding up his pretense or the captain’s absence was hitting her harder than she cared to admit.

When the comforting blue light of the transport wrapped them up, their mutual relief was palpable.

Beverly removed her tricorder from her pocket as she stepped off the pad. “There was human cellular debris present on the wall behind where that alien was sitting,” she explained darkly. “I think the captain was in a fight.”

Worf grinned slightly. “I hope that he fought well,” he added.

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow,” Will sighed as he crossed towards Deanna waiting for him near the door.

Putting her hands on her hips, Beverly turned to Worf and Will before either of them could escape. “Just what did you have to tell him anyway?” she asked firmly.

Deanna’s lips curled into a small smile as she sided with Beverly. “Whatever it was,” she began curiously. “It was fairly effective, the alien’s mental state became far more sympathetic.”

Will deadpanned and reached for Beverly’s shoulder. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a delicate situation,” he pulled her closer and waved them all in. “The captain has defiled my sister and abandoned her in a delicate condition.”

Deanna’s amusement danced in her dark eyes. Worf smirked and for her part, Beverly just started to laugh softly. “Sister?” she asked as she shook free of him. “Who’s idea was that?”

“Worf’s!” Will reported gleefully.

The Klingon meet Beverly’s raised eyebrows with a shrug. “Family honor can be a strong motivating factor in many species, including humans,” he offered as an explanation.

“I just want to see the captain’s face when we tell him he defiled you,” Will teased with a shrug.

Deanna rolled her eyes and started out into the corridor. Worf followed her and Will could hear her giving him the third degree about his choice of cover stories.

Beverly’s laughter was soft and almost sad. She bit her lip when she met Will’s eyes. “We could have him back tomorrow,” she sighed heavily wrapping her coat tighter around her body. “Or he’s dead and we’ll never see him again.”

“We haven’t seen the last of Jean-Luc Picard,” Will reminded her attempting to get her smile back. She looked slightly more optimistic when he smiled at her; he settled for that. “Is there any way you can persuade him to stop looking for pieces of lost civilizations on planets out this far?”

“Agreed,” Worf murmured darkly. “This planet is not even a Federation protectorate, nor does it maintain diplomatic ties with any planet under Starfleet. This planet’s own laws are-” he paused and grimaced, “-Inadequate, poorly enforced and frequently unjustly influenced by corruption. I will be pleased to be away from here.”

“You and me both,” Will agreed with a shake of his head. “Next vacation, the Captain goes to Risa or he stays in the holodeck.”

---

Beverly’s hat itched a little. It kept her hair out of the way and it was definitely not Starfleet-looking so she reminded herself again it was good that she was wearing it. At least she didn’t have to wear what Deanna was wearing. She didn’t even know where she had found it, that kind of pattern certainly wasn’t in the replicator. Maybe she’d asked her mother.


Deanna had a bright purple velvet dress that clung to her body as if it were the skin of a thousand snakes. It was edged in latinum thread, and a golden snake, complete with amethyst eyes, was wrapped into her dark hair. The dress left most of her breasts and almost all of her back bare. The parts of her skin that were covered seemed to only be so out of necessity.

Will wore a simpler outfit, black trousers and a purple vest that matched Deanna’s dress, as befit his station as the husband of a traditional Betazoid. He only spoke sparingly and seemed to be as much of an accessory as the snake in her hair.

Now that they were no longer trying to be undercover, Worf was dressed fully as a Klingon bodyguard. He wore so much black leather that he creaked when he moved and smelled like bloodwine and the horse stables her grandmother used to speak so fondly of.

“Look,” Deanna intoned leaning down over the table so her cleavage seemed to only stay in her dress through an invisible force field. “I don’t really care what he’s good for. I just knows he’s the ruffian my husband’s idiot sister took to her bed and as long as he can’t stop thinking about her ‘situation’, I can’t stop thinking about her ‘situation’.”

She wore a dark purple lipstick that made it look like her lips had been stained with same dye as her dress. The affected accent she’d chosen made Deanna sound like some cross between her mother and an Orion courtesan.

Running the back of her hand lazily down her breasts, she sighed heavily. “It’s rather inconvenient,” Deanna purred. “If you can imagine the thoughts he keeps having while we’re--”

Baran, captain of the smuggling vessel Jean-Luc had somehow become entangled with, leered openly at Deanna’s breasts and forced a laugh. “What business of it is mine?”

“A good business man knows when he’s being offered a good deal,” Will ventured when Deanna laid a hand on his shoulder. “We’re offering more than twice what a human of his age is worth.” Leaving his chair, he moved slowly towards Worf and Beverly, as if he was surveying the room.

“And what will you do when you get him?” Baran asked incredulously. He was doing something, fidgeting, with his hands. Even from across the room, Beverly didn’t need to be an empath to know he didn’t trust them.

“Kill him, cut him into pieces, marry her to him--” Deanna waved off all the suggestions. “I don’t care what she does with him as long as she stops complaining to my husband.”

Will leaned close to Beverly, making it look like he was simply concerned for her welfare. Biting her lip had the desired effect and tears came to her eyes. Will cupped her cheek and leaned closer. “There’s a dampening field up in the bar, our communicators aren’t working. Nod if you can get outside long enough to contact the ship, if you can, have Data start scanning for the captain.” She nodded and squeezed his hand in response before he walked away.

Baran continued to stare at Deanna’s body and licked his lips before he spoke. “And what proof do you have? Only your word that your servant is pregnant?”

Throwing her hand up in front of her mouth, Beverly dropped her head suddenly. Worf’s hand reached down in a show of support. The Klingon’s hands steadied her shoulders as she pretended to stumble. In three steps she was out of the bar and into the rank air of the back alley. Two of Baran’s guards were less than ten meters away, so she dropped against the wall, putting her knees against it as she pressed her forehead against the stone. Worf knelt next to her a moment later, putting the bulk of his body between her and the guards.

“Do you feel ill?” he asked loudly.

Coughing, she moved closer to him for cover. “Will needs us to contact the ship, have them scan for the captain.”

Worf turned his head to the side in mock disgust and Beverly heard the leather creak as his hand reached for his phaser. “You must pull yourself together.”

Reaching for the commbadge hidden in her pocket, Beverly tapped it on and started to whisper. “Data, the smugglers are using a dampening field. We need you to scan for the captain’s bio-signature and prepare to beam us up immediately if the field drops.”

When the guards moved, he brought up his arm to block their view of her mouth and pushed her down further. “I must return,” Worf whispered back. “The guards are looking this way Doctor,” He growled under his breath. “I apologize for this,” he whispered without taking his eyes off the guards. A rocklike fist slammed into her stomach just beneath her solar plexus, for a moment she was entirely unable to breath. Then she was vomiting what she’d eaten for breakfast that morning onto the dirty stones and replicated duracrete of the alley. When the wet, disgusting sound reached Baran’s smuggler guards, they backed away.

Worf had hit her so hard it stung to breathe. Nodding to him with tears in her eyes, she squeezed his hand and tried not to wish he was dead. Someday, she would have to ask what Mok’bara move led to this, if she reached a point where she could speak again. She was still struggling for breath when Will, Deanna and Worf emerged from the bar. Deanna’s boots glistened even in the poor light of the alley. Worf followed immediately afterward, playing the bodyguard.

“See to her,” Deanna snapped irritably. Lifting the train of her dress far from the alley, she moved quickly. “Make sure she is done before you bring her to our ship. I can’t abide the smell.”

“Yes, my wife,” Will said simply as if he had been saying it all of his life. Beverly heard instead of saw Will kneel next to her. Her eyes were still clouded with tears.

“Worf,” she sputtered weakly. Will’s arm wrapped around her shoulders and he eased her up to her feet.

“He’s more devious than I’ve ever given him credit for,” Will teased as he kept a careful eye on Baran’s guards. Will’s face was so close she could feel his beard on her cheek. “Certainly more than he shows at poker. He has the captain’s blood sample. He’ll keep it safe until we get back to the ship.” Pulling his head back, he spoke louder. “Can you walk?”

Taking a step with him, she sighed heavily and spent a moment wishing her life really was as simple as dealing with her overbearing brother’s wife. She hadn’t seen a doctor in his crew. He was obviously dependent on the Romulan for his scientific knowledge. Romulans were devious. If Jean-Luc really had an importance to the smuggler captain, Deanna’s case would have to be convincing.

Will’s steading hand remained on her shoulder, even when all hell broke loose around them. An old-fashioned, noxious gas grenade exploded behind her head. Dampening fields must have been incredibly common on this hole of a planet for the law enforcement officials to use them. She had already been having trouble breathing before the stinging air filled her lungs. Her training told her to drop to the ground, look for the sweeter air near the stones.

It was Will’s body that helped her make it down. He wedged her between himself and the stone and duracrete wall of the bar. Boots rushed around them, Will grunted when a foot hit too close to him. The sound of electricity, something she didn’t usually hear, arced through the air. His hand on her rib cage was nearly awkward but he was close enough that she could see the apologetic smile on his face.

Will was dragged to his feet first, hauled bodily up so he could be cuffed with old fashioned metal rings. Deanna stood next to him, checking he was all right with her eyes before she returned to her death glare at the lead guard. Baran and his smugglers were cuffed as well. The Romulan appeared to have gotten away and Worf was growling with blood on his brow. Deanna silenced him with a look, staying in character.

A guard started to pull her up. Beverly sagged, letting the guard bear the burden of most of her weight. He had to rest her against the building before he slapped her wrists into cold metal. He said something but she didn’t hear. There were three other smugglers. Two aliens and someone bald. Her eyes were full of tears and stinging; the guards were dragging him in a different direction some ten meters away through the smoke but she knew it was him.

“Jean--” broke her lips before she could stop it. The guards didn’t know any better. No one but Will had heard her slip. Taking a breath, the first full one she’d taken since Worf’s stunt, Beverly screamed. “Galen!”

The bald man’s head shot up. He wore brown leather and some kind of baldric instead of his uniform, but his blue-grey eyes were the same. The sharp lines of his face and the cut of his jaw were unmistakable. Relief sang through her like a river washing out a levy. Fears and dread she hadn’t admitted she even held rushed through her heart and left it hollow.

For a moment, she felt something intangible, something that had no name pass between them. Jean-Luc’s face stiffened and he dragged his eyes desperately away. As her relief ebbed and became manageable, the anger welled up in it’s place. Why was he with the smugglers? Why was he pretending to be someone else? What kind of dire hold did they have on him?

“I said get moving,” one of the guards snapped angrily and smacked her roughly with the back of his hand. With her eyes and thoughts still on Jean-Luc, Beverly barely felt the blow.

Deanna’s imperious glare was almost as good as a blow in return. “Get your filthy hands off of her,” she ordered with enough venom to be palpably dangerous. The guard looked surly, but Deanna’s words and a sharp look from the woman who seemed to be in charge had the desired effect.

“Run their retinal scans through the database,” the woman, obviously some kind of overworked inspector, nodded her green frilled head at one of her subordinates. One guard, green and frilled like the inspector, wrapped his scaly hands around Worf’s head and held him still as a second guard checked his eyes with a small hand-held scanner.

The scanning guard nodded quickly and moved to Deanna. Shaking her head with rage she wasn’t bothering to conceal, she refused to have anyone touch her. Deanna’s disgust and anger seemed to give her an aura of impenetrability. The scanner beeped once and the same guard nodded. The inspector seemed to relax slightly, almost as if she were pleased she wouldn’t have to arrest anyone.

Beverly couldn’t take her eyes off the other guards and the other line. Two of the smugglers had been forced down onto the muddy stones lining the alley, Baran was being scanned and Jean-Luc was next in line.

“Beverly--” Deanna’s admonishing voice cut through her distractions the way the guard’s voice hadn’t. “Look at the scanner.”

She could barely pull her eyes off of the captain but Beverly somehow managed to force her gaze into the soft light of the scanner. It flashed once and beeped without conviction. The guard nodded and this time the inspector seemed pleased.

“You may leave,” the inspector offered simply. “Your retinal patterns have been logged. Any further involvement with Captain Baran or his crew will be considered a violation of Suukan law. Our punishments are quite severe. I suggest you get as far away from this rock immediately.”

“Nothing would give me more pleasure,” Deanna spat as she eyed her wrists with disdain. Acting as if she’d been contaminated simply by the touch of the guard, Deanna tilted her head and drew Will and Worf to her. “We’re beaming up. Now.”

Jean-Luc had been shoved down to the ground with the rest of the smugglers. The inspector, who seemed to be nearly as perceptive as Deanna, caught Beverly’s glance. “Baran and his crew of miscreants will be detained until our authorities are certain they pose no risk to Suukan order.”

Deanna paused in her imperious exit. Glaring at Beverly the way she would have looked at a misbehaving pet, she sighed. “One of the smugglers, the hairless one, what will happen to him?”

The inspector didn’t answer immediately and Deanna sighed again with greater annoyance. “My servant is-” she seemed to choke on the word, “-fond of him.”

The inspector’s yellow eyes remained unmoved.

Deanna waved the inspector closer with one finger. “He has fathered her child. The entire mess is an inconvenience of the highest order and the feeble-minded woman has feelings for him. I hate to encourage her failings but good help is very hard to find.”

The reptilian inspector’s triple eyelids blinked once, like a pair of portholes squeezing shut. “He has no record but he may be found guilty of association,” the inspector answered. “Suukan law is harsh but not entirely unreasonable. Normally there would be little you could do, but if her situation is as you have described you may have a chance. You may inquire tomorrow, three chimes before sunset when the courts open.” She drew a thin slip of silicone from the pocket of her dull grey uniform. “This will show you the way.”

“Thank you,” she replied coldly. Snapping her fingers at Beverly, Deanna inclined her head. “We are done here.” Turning her head with great effort away from the captain, Beverly fell in step just behind Deanna. Closing her eyes kept them from tearing up again and a moment later the transporter grabbed her and took her away.

When the effect of the transporter faded, Will was helping her down from the transported padd. Deanna was laughing softly in relief as Worf critiqued her performance. Beverly’s mind was racing as she tried to remember anything she had ever heard about this dammed planet. When Worf caught her eye, he apologized again.

“Doctor, please forgive me,” he begged politely. “I was concerned that the guards would get too close--”

Beverly accepted his apology with a wave of her hand. “It’s all right,” Worf’s solution had a simple beauty to it and had definitely been effective.

“What did he do?” Deanna asked with a touch of concern that seemed entirely out of place in her current ensemble.

“I performed a maneuver called GuIhmKhah,” Worf explained sheepishly. “I apologize for the discomfort suffered by the doctor, however, as I needed the smugglers to retreat a few meters. It seemed the best way.”

Deanna’s dark eyes widened beneath the heavy make-up she was wearing as part of her costume. “GuIhmKhah?” She patted Beverly’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. It’s supposed to be almost as bad as a painstick.”

Worf shook his head and gave Beverly a respectful nod. “Indulging the current fantasy instead of lying about something else was the simplest way.”

Will’s smile disappeared as he tried to place the reptilian race in his mind. “I don’t think I’ve heard of the Suukan,” he admitted with a disappointed smile. “Any of you know anything about them?”

“They were referred to in my xenobiology class at the Academy as walking lie detectors,” Deanna mused as she tried not notice the looks she was getting from the crew as she led them towards the observation lounge and their debriefing.

“Reasonably skilled warriors,” Worf added with a quick nod. “They move quickly for a reptilian species but their technology is beneath that of the Enterprise or even what we will have available to us on a runabout. We will prevail.”

Deanna chuckled as they entered the turbolift. She patted Worf’s shoulder before she reached over and wrapped her arm around Will’s. “Klingons really don’t get enough credit for their positive thinking,” she said.

Will grinned with her and leaned in to admire the snake in her hair. Pretending that it could see him, he stared it down until Deanna smacked his shoulder.

“It was good to see the captain,” Deanna sighed optimistically as the turbolift let them out on deck two. “Even if he’s in prison, we know where he is and that he’s alive.”

“I am afraid knowing where he is only provides us with a new difficulty,” Worf rumbled as he headed for his chair. Data sat in Will’s usual place at Picard’s right. Without the captain, the senior officers would force him to take the head of the table. Deanna sat at his right and directed her dark eyes at the empty chair. When he tried to avoid it, Beverly watched as she squeezed his arm and steered him directly there.

Taking her arm, Worf brought her to the sink in the back of the room before went to the replicator and brought her a glass of water with an apologetic nod. Beverly rinsed her mouth twice before she brought the glass of water with her to her seat.

“Then your mission was a partial success?” Data asked as he waited for everyone to sit. “You have located the captain?”

“We found him Data,” Deanna answered warmly. “He was just arrested for smuggling artifacts.”

“Oh,” Data replied softly. “I do not suppose that was what the commander was referring to when he told Captain Picard to get into trouble.”

Will’s smile was almost a grimace. “Data, he’s being held by the Suuka, what do you know about them?”

“The Suuka are a reptilian race known for their extreme devotion to the truth,” Data began to report as Beverly heard the other officers settle into their chairs around her. “They possess unusual visual acuity that allows them to see the fluctuations of blood flow in the faces of most mammalian humanoids. The telling of lies, or creating a falsehood creates stress they can observe.”

“So we just need to con a bunch of walking lie-detectors,” Will sighed and leaned forward in the captain’s chair. He looked as uncomfortable being in it as she was seeing him there instead of Jean-Luc. “Okay, we know he’s in trouble with the Suuka. What do they intend to do with him? What’s their legal system like? Any way we can bail him out or get him on probation?”

“Probation is unlikely, sir,” Data replied gently. “Suukan law is based on a cost-benefit system. If the criminal is judged to be of greater benefit than detriment to society, they are usually allowed to pay a fine and proceed with their lives.”

“Seems simple enough,” Will agreed tapping his hand on the table. “Jean-Luc Picard is definitely of greater use to society.”

“Will,” Deanna interrupted him by placing a calming hand on his arm. “They think he’s a smuggler named Galen. He has no criminal record, but his chosen profession certainly isn’t very useful.”

“Not to mention the fact that admitting he is Captain Picard would involve exposing a lie he has already given to the authorities,” Data reminded them all. “The Federation has little power influence in this system. Simply being a Starfleet captain would not balance out the fact that he has lied to them about his identity.”

Taking a sip of water helped clear her throat before she spoke. “Why wasn’t that lie detected? His name isn’t Galen. They should have seen that.”

“It is possible they did not even ask his name,” Data inferred. “It is also possible that they consider his name unimportant. Currently he is a smuggler of ancient artifacts and we can assume he will be treated as such.”

Will sighed. Deanna’s expression was grave, even with her outlandish make-up. Worf’s eyes were on Beverly and she tried not to squirm beneath his gaze. “I suppose we don’t want to know what the punishment is for being caught smuggling on this backward little planet?” he asked rhetorically even though he knew Data would answer.

“If Galen is judged to be a drain on society he will be removed from it,” Data reported with none of the emotion that kind of proclamation required. It almost made it seem less ominous. Beverly felt her Klingon induced nausea resurface with a vengeance as she tried not to think of a universe without Jean-Luc Picard.

Worf straightened in his seat with a creak of leather. “The question then becomes, how do we make him useful?”