The Federal Man
Posted on Sunday February 18, 2024 @ 1:34am by Chief Warrant Officer Dario Lara Serrano
1,172 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Prologue: First Steps
Location: Las Vegas, Nevada; North America.
Timeline: current
The Safyre Feather, a multi-tiered cathedral of dancing holo-nudes and vibrant neon, casting techno-colored sin onto the dream soaked streets of a city which shared the same moniker. Celebrities, high rollers, and the least-be-seen politician had shadowed its doorway over the years. Each entrant gaining release into a haven of buxom females, human and non, gyrating and thrusting themselves over the aggro-beats of synth-wave and good old-fashioned Rock & Roll.
"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas" was a centuries old saying which only seemed to take on greater relevance when a portly half-gangster named Lrog broke ground on Fremont Street for his gentleman's club. They say Ferengi hear profit on the wind and, in Lrog's case, he had no problem hearing it over the rattling tones of casino machines.
Dario Serrano was tucked away into deep embrace of a velour bucket seat, a young Bajoran woman in lingerie seated across his lap with a tender hand at his check and breathy voice in his ear. Next to Dario was Manuel Ortiz, his now-former Lieutenant with the San Fransisco Police Department. Manuel was in much similar situations to Dario but the sturdy old constable preferred a much sturdier woman -- this one in the form of a tall and muscular Klingon woman, fiery red hair raining off her carnal ridge as sharp teeth playfully nipped at the male. The music beat about them, stage acts danced before them, and a bucket of bottled beer slowly shrank in number between them.
"You're gonna miss this when you're stuck on a Star Fleet ship full of stuck up pendejos" Manuel said, drawing one of those large bear paws he called hands up to his face to pluck the cuban cigar out from under his bushy mustache.
"Leaving me for Starfleet?" the Bajoran asked with a feigned pout from Dario's lap, her hands petting over his strong chest and shoulders. "Maybe, Pa'Tuk and I should give you a going away present?" she then stated seductively, her gaze turning left to the Klingon female, Pa'Tuk, with a playful bite of her lower lip.
Dario smiled, his fingers tracing a small line over Bajoran's thigh looking up at her.
Pa'Tuk seemed utterly dismissive of the suggestion, "That Human is too scrawny, I will break him." She fixed her eyes on Manuel, hands between her thighs and flexing each breast independent of its partner under her bikini top. "I prefer my human males more beefy."
"That will be enough ladies." a voice came from behind pair of chairs. Around them stepped Lrog, the heavy-set Ferengi proprietor of The Safyre Feather. His clothing, in true Ferengi fashion, was expensive and ornate. A gold trimmed tunic covered in heavy latinum chains and a soft fabric which seemed to shimmer in the low-light of the club. He carried with his a chilled bucket beer, replacing the empty one on the small table between them. "I do not believe our neighborly constables are interested in the Champagne room." he then remarked, emphasizing the law enforcement profession.
Both women climbed from the laps of the men with a cutesy parting finger wave, vanishing into the anonymity of the busy club.
"Lrog." Dario said with a nod, "Que lo que."
"You really know how to kill a good time, Ferengi." Manuel said slipping the cigar back into his mouth and taking a puff as he crossed one leg over the other.
"I do my best to serve, officers." Lrog said with a half bow, "I hope your visit to my club is a pleasurable and not professional one?" His suspicious eyes darted between them for a moment.
"Pleasure. My compatriot leaves for his Starfleet assignment in the morning." Manuel explained.
"How unfortunate." Lrog said with a distasteful wince.
"That is what I keep saying." Manual added, turning a judging gaze toward Dario who feigned surrender.
"Well, I will leave you to enjoy your evening gentlemen. I trust you will allow me to enjoy mine?" Lrog said, letting the tail end of that sentence hang in a question.
"We have no business here." Dario confirmed, sitting up more in the chair to collect a beer from the chilled bucket.
"Wonderful." Lrog said laying one palm into another. "Enjoy your stay, gentleman." A second half bow came before stepping back around them and exiting the way he came.
Manuel and Dario collect their bucket of beer and surrender their seats near the dance stage in favor of the bartop. He settle in on a pair of stools and continue their conversation.
"Lrog is a scumbag, but he has a point." Manual says taking a pull of his beer. "What did you have to go and join Starfleet for? They are nothing but a bunch of pretentious assholes who explore 'strange new worlds' to bother Aliens would just as soon be left alone."
Manuel was a grumpy old cop. A lifetime with the badge had given him a generally unpleasant disposition and nihilist point of view when it came to the worlds around them. Dario knew this happened with all cops, he could even feel it when himself at times, but he still felt driven for something more. He liked Manuel a great deal, a excellent leader and one of the top crime fighters in North America, but the lawman was old fashioned.
He would have been better suited interrogating serial killers in silver-screen Hollywood, roughing up skinheads in 80s New York, or kicking in doors millennial Baltimore. The world had changed on him before he even arrived, but he had some elbow room on the streets of San Fransico. The prospect of regimented Starfleet seemed all but suffocating to him.
"Its not all that." Dario observed with a dismissive hand. "The Universe is a lot bigger than the Tenderloin District. There is more to see, there is more to do, and if there is a way to facilitate all that with this life I have lead then I would be a fool not to do it."
Manuel shakes his head taking another pull of his beer. "You should have never taken that Acadamy course."
"Maybe you should take it?" Dario quickly returned. "Or better yet, look into an officer exchange. I hear Cardassia is lovely this time of year." He took a sip with a playful smile, "Think of all the convictions you'd get in their courts?"
Manuel laughs, "Vete a la diabla" with another head shake.
Dario slaps a hand down onto the other's shoulder and pulls Manual chummily into him. "To Starfleet?" he asked raising his beer bottle.
"To Starfleet." Manuel reluctantly grumbles, clicking the mouth his beer against Darios.
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