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Old July 5 2011, 10:33 PM   #16
Enterprise1981
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

It sure captures the mood of Bond stories. Something tells me Julian is in for a universe of trouble especially if Miss Holland isn't all she appears to be.
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Old July 6 2011, 01:52 AM   #17
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

And now, we continue:


Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
"From Risa With Love"
Chapter 2


Of course she was going to be late.

Julian Bashir looked up at the chronometer at his room at the “Vulcan Stone”. It was 1705.

He leaned back in his seat by the desk. Naturally…she was continuing the little “banter” they’d began on the beach…just without words. She was testing him to see if he’d give in, look her up…and then go to her door, after all.

He smiled. He could wait.

He was dressed in what was something of a private joke with himself—a mid-20th-century-style black dinner suit with a white shirt and a black bowtie. On a world like Risa…no one would really notice the humor of it.

He looked around his room. True to the “theme” of the resort, it was made to have a feel of solitude, in the logical, strictly efficient style of Vulcan. Comfortable, certainly, no self-respecting Risan establishment would ever abandon that—but it was effectively supposed to be a “stylized” version of Vulcan architecture. Dark reddish-brown walls, paneled with stone…relics on the wall, from miniature lirpas to a massive rug, covering the wall behind the bed, with a large golden IDIC woven in. The lamps gave off a warm light, with a soothing fire-like hue, when it was too late or early for the daylight to come in through the windows…or when the curtains were closed.

The bathroom lay across the room from his desk. There was no door, just an effective design where he would go straight forward, to the sink, and turn right, going a few steps straight into the shower—water, of course, not sonic.

The whole place was ideal for him…even if it did remind him of being alone.

He heard a knock at the door.

He glanced at the chronometer. Eight minutes past.

With a grin on his face, Julian Bashir rose from his seat, walking straight to the entranceway, and pressed the control on the wall.

Cynthia Holland stood there with a childlike beam, her hands clasped low, in front of her. She wore a long-sleeved, dark green blouse, with a short brown skirt.

Bashir smirked. She’d clearly intended to charm him with adorability. It was certainly effective. “You’re late.”

She looked off and shrugged, her smile growing. “As I said…I had work to finish.”

“I see.”

She gave him a look of complete innocence. “You did order me to do so, Doctor.”

“Ah, yes. So I did.” He decided not to remind her that he’d also ‘ordered’ her not to be late. She knew it—she was simply teasing him, appropriately.

She made a show of looking him up and down. “Well—you seem to be properly dressed for the occasion!”

Bashir chuckled. “As do you. Now…shall we?”

She returned the laugh, and extended her hand to him. “Of course!”

He took it, as he went out into the hall, the door locking behind him.


* * *

As the evening sky darkened, they eventually found their way to the Caranala Club. Within, the stone walls were covered in flowered vines and foliage. Palms grew here and there throughout the floor—and in false “breaks” between the walls. There was a ceiling—but it was designed and decorated in such a way to simulate a night sky breaking through the rain forest. Amid the faint sounds of animal life not really there, they could hear a “lounge” musical style which reminded Bashir somewhat of Vic Fontaine’s….

He looked up from his dinner, and noticed that Miss Holland had barely touched hers. She was looking around at her exotic surroundings, with a look of enthusiastic wonder in her eyes….

He smiled. He always loved to see that in the personality of a woman—that innocence, that childlike joy for life, and all its pleasures.

“I take it this is your first time here?” he asked.

She turned to him with a blink. “Hmm?”

He chuckled. “I was asking whether you’ve been here before.”

“Oh…no, Doctor. I haven’t been to Risa at all, before now.”

“Really? Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

She nodded.

“Now, may I be so bold as to presume that you’re not exactly here on vacation?”

She blinked again, frowning. “Doctor?”

“Well—perhaps it’s the romantic in me…I’d always imagined what it would be like to be a…‘secret agent’, sent to exotic places around the universe…serving Queen and Country, as they say, while also enjoying the many pleasures of wherever I’m sent….”

She smiled, and gave a light shrug. “Well, sometimes that is what happens.”

“But not all the time, of course.”

She looked off, shaking her head with a sigh. “No…certainly not.”

Bashir leaned back in his seat. “So—are you on assignment?”

She turned back to him, and chuckled. “I see it’s impossible to fool you on that sort of thing, Doctor.”

“I’d say so.”

She narrowed her eyes as she leaned forward, beckoning with her finger. Bashir happily obliged, leaning to her, as she spoke in a near whisper:

“You’re right, Doctor. I’m here on assignment.”

He nodded with a grin. “Doing what?”

“Well…if you’ll keep this confidential…”

“My dear Miss Holland…I pride myself on my trustworthiness.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Now…” as she folded her hands in front of her, growing serious, “Intelligence has been receiving reports of Syndicate activity in this sector for the past several weeks. We suspect they have a base of operations here—on Risa.”

Bashir frowned. “The Orion Syndicate?”

“Is there another ‘Syndicate’ we should be aware of?”

He shrugged. “Any idea what they’re planning?”

“Not exactly…but there have also been recent withdrawals of large sums of latinum from certain accounts in the Bank of Bolius which we’ve been monitoring.”

“Hold on,” Bashir held up a hand, doing a double-take. “Isn’t that illegal, to spy on the Bolius accounts? They’re supposed to be neutral….”

“They don’t know about us. Our operatives have been doubling as…as bankers, in order to look at the transfer records….”

“Of course. Now, you think the withdrawals are to fund something, or…?”

“We don’t know. All we do know is that an establishment a few block away from here—the Palais de Mystère—has been completely bought out a week ago, by a man named Crolin, who paid all at once…in latinum, Doctor Bashir.”

He nodded slowly, taking it all in. “By ‘bought out’, you mean…”

“Completely private—no stockholding. Total and complete ownership.”

“Well…perhaps it’s a simple case of corrupt dealing and buyouts…in which case, it’d be in the jurisdiction of—”

“Doctor…if that were all, why purchase in full, so quickly? Why the rush…unless they were planning something to happen…very soon?”

Bashir narrowed his eyes. “Something…”

“Something big, Doctor. Something important enough to warrant that amount of latinum.”

“I see…. So, you’re to investigate the new owner of the Palais.”

“Exactly.”

“Why didn’t you check in to that resort?”

“We didn’t want to risk it. I report regularly to my superiors, and we can’t afford the possibility of anyone spying on me in my quarters, and destroying my cover.”

Bashir smiled. “I’m impressed, Miss Holland. This seems like a very important assignment—especially for someone who’s not a full agent. And it would seem you deserve it.”

She smiled, with a blink of her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now…have you made contact with the new owners, as of yet?”

“Not yet. That’s what I was preparing for, tonight, before I came to you door—I was analyzing the information we already have, and then confirming everything with my contact at Headquarters.”

He nodded. “Very good…. All right, Miss Holland…how detailed is your plan, then?”

“Detailed, Doctor? No…I have to anticipate according to things I wouldn’t be aware of beforehand.” She hesitated, and tilted her head. “Are you asking to join me?”

Bashir kept his face unreadable. “Now why would I ask something so absurd?”

Holland smiled, and shrugged again. “Because…you’re too curious?”

Bashir laughed. “Well, that would certainly describe me! All the same…I’m not authorized for this sort of thing.”

“Of course not.”

They stared at each other in silence, both struggling to keep smiles from breaking. Finally, they both gave up, laughing despite themselves.

Bashir shook his head. “All right. You have me—if you want me.”

Holland narrowed her eyes and grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I do…Doctor Bashir.”

Bashir grinned inside at the double meaning of her answer. “Oh…call me ‘Julian’.”

She blinked, her smile vanishing in bewilderment. “Well, I—”

“Well, after all, I have a name and reputation—more so than you do, certainly. If I’m to come along, surely we need a cover, don’t we?”

“I…suppose so. But, I don’t see what that has—”

“So, in that case, you and I, we are a happily engaged couple, and we’re looking for the perfect resort for our future honeymoon.”

Her eyes widened, as her smile returned. “Doctor…I had no idea—”

“That we were going to be married? Neither did I—but after a considerable period of courtship, I found myself proposing almost against my will to you a few nights ago—the end of our first day here, as it were. On the beach, as the sun was setting…the soft sound of the waves soothing our hearts—the usual.”

“I see. Quite romantic.”

“I should think so. Now, caught up in the passion of the aftermath, we’re eagerly setting out to plan everything out. In this case…our honeymoon.”

“Shall we get a ring…Julian?”

“Oh, not necessarily. Not unless you already have something you could use. As I said, it was all unexpected, and therefore rushed.”

She nodded. “All right. That’s settled, then.”

Bashir leaned back in his seat. “So…the Palais de…”

“The Palais de Mystère, Julian.”

“Right. You know, you pronounced that perfectly—far better than I could, anyway.”

She looked off. “Well…I suppose my family history helps me in that, you could say.”

“Ah. A French background?”

“Well, yes; my mother was French, my father was English.”

“Indeed. I wouldn’t have known it from your name. ‘Cynthia’ isn’t French.”

“Oh, but my middle name is, Doctor.”

“And it would be…?”

She squirmed for a moment, and finally blurted out, “‘Mirabelle’.”

Julian felt his eyes bulge. “Heavens—not the plum!”

She burst out laughing, and shook her head. “Actually, I’d often asked them about that! Mother swore to me they’d meant it in its literal sense….”

“Ah.” Mirabelle…“lovely…wondrous…of incredible beauty”. “Well, your parents were certainly on to something, I’d say.”

Her lips parted as her smile grew. “Merci, Doctor!” she said in a near whisper.

Julian returned the smile. “You’re welcome.”

A French background…how terribly ironic. Unbidden, the memory of a woman he hadn’t thought about for years…came to him, now:

Palis…my first love…the woman whom, for so long, I feared could never be equaled in my heart. For so long…the perfect woman in my eyes, until…until Ezri had walked into my life….

There was a certain something those two past loves shared, wasn’t there? The same inner beauty…the same grace of spirit…the same tender, romantic heart. Of course, they had looked so very different from one another—but that was irrelevant. What had made them the two greatest loves in his life was still the same, when it mattered—although…he found himself thinking that he wouldn’t have abandoned the latter by his own choice, as he had the former….

Funny—this woman, sitting across from me…she looks so much like Palis. A little different, but…the resemblance is still there, now that I think if it.

—Oh, what are you doing, Julian? Comparing this girl to Ezri, over and over—and now Palis…it’s not fair to Cynthia, at all! She’s who she is—no one else.

And yet…on the other hand…there is something about all three, isn’t there? Something…which always draws me to a certain kind of woman….

Bashir looked at her, his curiosity—his desire to become closer to her—growing by the minute. “Cynthia Mirabelle Holland….”

She nodded. “Julian Subatoi Bashir….”

Bashir returned the nod. “That’s right.”

“And your background is…?”

“Yes—my father’s from England. My mother’s Arabic.”

“Oh, they’re still alive?”

“Of course. Father’s a landscape architect. He’s been doing very well, I’d say. In fact—”

He cut himself off, when the implications of her question became clear.

“Oh…” Julian whispered, staring at her in compassion. She just met his gaze, with a look of sad, nostalgic regret.

He shook his head slowly. “I…I’m sorry, Cynthia.”

She blinked, and her gaze fell. “It’s…quite all right, Doctor,” she whispered. “It’s been some years since…since I lost them.”

“Well…when?”

“When I was in the Academy, my second year. A climbing accident. I don’t think about it, really.”

“I…well…how close were you to them?”

She looked off, and sighed. “Not as much as I would have liked.”

Julian stared at her, saying nothing.

She shrugged, and turned back to him. “We seem to be bearing our souls to each other, Doctor.”

“I suppose so….”

“Well, thank you—for caring.”

Julian swallowed, and managed to reply, “It was nothing.”

She nodded, her gaze falling.

Julian shook his head again. He was filled with sympathy for her…he knew full well what it was like to be separate, alone—even if his own parents were still alive.

And so, he found himself taking her hand. It felt so soft…so frail, underneath his own.

She blinked in surprise as she saw what he did…but she didn’t resist. Her other hand rested on his, and she looked at him, her eyes sparkling, with a warm, grateful smile.

Despite himself, Julian started musing, Confound it, Bashir—why does nearly every woman you share a mutual attraction with turn out to be emotionally vulnerable, in some way or another? Melora, Sarina, Ezri—is it your Oath as a doctor run amuck, or something? Does that, in some terrible way…does it somehow make things worse for her—?

He cut himself off again. Oh, knock it off. That’s the last sort of mindset you should be having, right now. She says she’s over it. She’s proven she can live with it. What she needs is your empathy—and you’ve given it to her. With that, you two can move on.

Finally, Julian cleared his throat, and muttered, “Well, um…we’d best make plans for the mission at hand.”

The girl nodded…and the two pulled back their hands, and returned to their dinner.


* * *
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Old July 6 2011, 01:54 PM   #18
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

I've always liked the natural ease with which you write conversation, and I think you show similar skills with abstract description in this one; the way that Risa is described is very effective, and really shows a more meaningful and well-considered idea of the planet than the usual "sex and fun" summary. That is, I really liked the insight into what a mind like (presumably) Bashir's might see in it - how the carefully-crafted paradise speaks to more than just the desire for enjoyment (though that's certainly not downplayed or unimportant). It really helps sell Risa as something with a sophistication or other such quality that might be attractive to Bashir.

I also really liked Bashir's analysis of his new companion's likely function in SI; it fit his character and it made use of his genetic enhancement and their insights in a manner the show often, I think, neglected...and the novels often do as well, for that matter.
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Old July 6 2011, 04:00 PM   #19
The Badger
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

^Agreed. Bashir's genetic enhancements, coupled with the deductive skills a doctor needs, should give him Sherlock Holmes style insight.

Hmm, I wonder if there's any significance in the fact that Cynthia's parents died in a mountaineering accident...
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Old July 6 2011, 04:50 PM   #20
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

The Badger wrote: View Post
Hmm, I wonder if there's any significance in the fact that Cynthia's parents died in a mountaineering accident...
If there is something I've learned about my good friend Rushbo here, its that he doesn't do anything without a reason. Take that as you want, but its the way it is.

Rushbo: Great chapter, mate.
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Old July 6 2011, 10:44 PM   #21
St. William Of Levittown
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

Thank you all for reading!

Deranged Nasat wrote: View Post
I've always liked the natural ease with which you write conversation, and I think you show similar skills with abstract description in this one; the way that Risa is described is very effective, and really shows a more meaningful and well-considered idea of the planet than the usual "sex and fun" summary. That is, I really liked the insight into what a mind like (presumably) Bashir's might see in it - how the carefully-crafted paradise speaks to more than just the desire for enjoyment (though that's certainly not downplayed or unimportant). It really helps sell Risa as something with a sophistication or other such quality that might be attractive to Bashir.
Thanks. Frankly, I somehow just knew that there was more to Risa than just Sex, Sexyness, and Sexuality--particularly considering how, when Jadzia proclaimed the glories of room service in "Change Of Heart", Worf's thoughts immediately went to Risa.

Also, you're really on to something with it being Bashir's reflections. In Flemming's tales, the descriptive passages are often revealed to be Bond's own reflections of the location.

I also really liked Bashir's analysis of his new companion's likely function in SI; it fit his character and it made use of his genetic enhancement and their insights in a manner the show often, I think, neglected...and the novels often do as well, for that matter.
Absolutely. Far too often, it was used only as something of a gag--"seven-point-three-five minutes", etc. As it were, I'd imagine that was why Mr. Siddig didn't exactly care for the "enhancements" arc; he may have felt it could never really be taken seriously.

The Badger wrote: View Post
^Agreed. Bashir's genetic enhancements, coupled with the deductive skills a doctor needs, should give him Sherlock Holmes style insight.
Quite correct, Badger. You could say it was a most--shall we say--elementary combination.

Hmm, I wonder if there's any significance in the fact that Cynthia's parents died in a mountaineering accident...
ares93 wrote: View Post
The Badger wrote: View Post
Hmm, I wonder if there's any significance in the fact that Cynthia's parents died in a mountaineering accident...
If there is something I've learned about my good friend Rushbo here, its that he doesn't do anything without a reason. Take that as you want, but its the way it is.
Thank you, my friend. And you're quite correct, Badger--it was a nod to the established backstory of James Bond. While Cynthia isn't quite a full-fledged "female Bond"...she is a very promising young agent, and I thought it'd be a nice touch.

Rushbo: Great chapter, mate.
Again--thanks for your reading, and your reviews!
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Last edited by St. William Of Levittown; July 7 2011 at 02:01 AM.
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Old July 7 2011, 02:19 AM   #22
St. William Of Levittown
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

Okay. Now, time to really kick things off.

A couple notes: Continuity hawks should recognize Code 47 as Starfleet's most secure channel from "Conspiracy" (TNG).

The look of the Palais de Mystère was partly inspired by the look of the Museam Of Science and Industry (MOSI) of Tampa, Florida--and partly by the exterior of the "Living Seas" pavilion in Epcot ....


Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
"From Risa With Love"
Chapter 3


He walked her to the door of her suite, and Cynthia Holland found herself often glancing in his direction as they discussed their plan for the following day.

Finally, she stood outside the entrance. “Well…I have to report to my superiors.”

“All right. I’d better turn in, too, I suppose.”

“It was an excellent dinner, Julian. I enjoyed it.”

Bashir nodded. “As did I. Good night, Cynthia.”

She returned the nod. “Good night.”

And she entered her code into the wall, and stepped into her room, the door closing between them.

Cynthia sat down in her chair by the desk, leaning back with a sigh. She reached upward, brushing back her hair.

He’s so charming…so…caring.

She shook her head. You let him get too close. Remember your training—do not let your missions ever become personal. You should not have asked about his family—did you really think he wouldn’t find out you were an orphan?

But…I—

Enough, Cynthia. You have to report.

She sighed, and turned to her console, setting it for Code 47. She heard the deep female voice of the Starfleet computer service, giving the normal instructions. She drove her emotions away, and gave her access code.

The voice of her contact, Mr. Burns—she had never found out if he had a first name—came, “We read you.”

“Holland. He’s in.”

“Well done. Director wants schematics of Palais by tomorrow, at 2100. Keep note of all secured areas in building.”

“Already planned.”

“Noted. Anything more?”

“Negative.”

“Out.”


* * *


The Palais de Mystère is an exercise in waves, spreading out horizontally in nearly all directions from the massive blue globe in the center. These wings, colored in streams of silver and gold, cause the entire structure to vaguely resemble a Terran octopus. They reach out as if seeking to engulf the entire region, wrapping it all in a tight embrace. Standing before it, it is easy for one to feel like a mere insect—insignificant before this massive structure.

The entrance plaza is a gap in the building’s “arms”, spreading out like a “V” to the street. In its relative center is a large circular fountain, having one ten-meter tower of water, surrounded by a circle of fifty smaller siblings, rising and falling in patterns.

The plaza leads to a giant antique-style revolving door, in a cylindrical foyer on which rests the globe. The blue sphere makes the building at least 250 meters high at the top.

“Palace of Mystery” indeed, Bashir mused, as he traversed the plaza. Cynthia walked close by his side, dressed in a dark green knee-length dress, and carrying a small black purse. She was clasping hold of his arm with both hands, her head leaning on his shoulder—certainly throwing herself into the role of a hopeless lovebird.

The irony is…she’s technically my superior in this mission. Cynthia had informed him, that morning, of their exact duty this day—to obtain complete and exact schematics of the entire structure…from the top of the globe, down to whatever lower levels there might be.

Easier said than done. But then—spy missions rarely aren’t.

Inside, the main lobby was a vast open space, with a high ceiling. The floor was of a dark green marble, or something similar—a material matching the oval counter for the black stone information desk.

Bashir turned to Cynthia, who gave a slight nod, and headed for the women’s restroom.

He walked over to the information desk, where there sat an attractive, youthful Boslic woman. She looked up at him, completely professional. “May I help you, Mister…?”

Bashir smiled. “Yes, my name is Bashir—Julian Bashir.”

The woman nodded, and returned the smile. “Ah. Well, Mister Bashir, how may I be of service to you?”

Bashir noticed she didn’t say, “How may we be of service?”

He replied, “Well, I’m looking for future accommodations, for my next leave. I’m…in the market, as it were.”

The receptionist nodded again in apparent understanding. “I see,” she said, leaning forward a bit with a smile, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Well, sir, I would be happy to provide any—information you would care to obtain from me….”

Bashir raised an eyebrow at this. So that’s her idea, is it? All right, two can play at this game… “Well, I suppose in this case…a tour will suffice.”

Her smile grew. “A tour?”

Bashir leaned forward, and returned the smirk. “An extensive tour…as detailed and extensive as possible, if you please.”

The woman nodded again, slowly. “Well,” she said, lowering her voice to a near whisper, “I believe I can arrange that…Mister Bashir….”

“Very good,” Bashir replied in the same tone, returning the nod. Now for the kill.

He straightened up, and said in a normal, slightly cheery voice, “So—if you’d be so kind as to contact management, and arrange a tour of this hotel, for myself and my associate, that would be wonderful.”

She blinked. “Your associate?”

“Yes—she should be here in a few minutes.”

He resolved to keep his chuckle internal, upon seeing the barely-suppressed look of crushed disappointment on the receptionist’s face. “Um…yes, sir. Right away.”

Bashir walked off, shaking his head with a silent chuckle as the woman carried on in her duties. I actually enjoyed that…. I wonder—was this how Jadzia felt, all those times with me?

He briefly glanced in the direction of the restrooms. A few more minutes…and Cynthia would be done. So far, so good.


* * *


Cynthia Holland entered the woman’s restroom, and went straight to the sink. She set her purse down on the counter, and lowered her hands into one of the many bowls cut into the pink marble. There was a slight gap cut along the entire rim of the bowl, from which came a soft “waterfall” of a cleaning solution—a replicated mixture of hand cleanser and water, at precisely the right temperature for comfort—which, once “drained”, would then dissolve back into the system’s energy stores.

As she washed, she looked around her, at her surroundings. No one else was inside.

The water stopped, and a gust of hot air dried her hands in a matter of seconds. Holland reached into her purse, pulling out a small rod of pink lipstick. She squeezed the bottom, twisting it.

She felt a brief buzz, indicating that the device was activated.

Holland smiled, and turned to the mirror above the counter, applying the lipstick in a casual manner. When she was done, she was in no real hurry to close the stick—not even when she felt it buzz again, in completion.

She put it away, as if it had no significance, and pulled a compact out of the purse, opening it. She held it at different angles, as if checking her face. After a moment, there scrolled at the bottom of the small circular mirror an only just perceptible message: Area clear.

Of course…that was what she expected. It would be a most twisted and disgusting mind who would plant bugs or scanners inside a restroom—even if the owner was a member of the Syndicate.

Satisfied, she walked into one of the stalls, locking the door. She sat down, and pulled out her tricorder, scanning for a general outline of the structure of the Palais de Mystère.


* * *
__________________
"The saying implies but does not name the effective agency of its supposed utopia.... 'Needs and abilities' are, of course, subjective. So the operative statement may be reduced to 'the State shall take, the State shall give'."
--David Mamet
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Old July 8 2011, 06:19 PM   #23
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

Regarding the final scene, as Mr. Data said, "Ohhh, shit!"
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Old July 8 2011, 06:27 PM   #24
St. William Of Levittown
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

Oh?
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Old July 8 2011, 07:01 PM   #25
ares93
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

Enterprise1981 wrote: View Post
Regarding the final scene, as Mr. Data said, "Ohhh, shit!"
Rush Limborg wrote: View Post
Oh?
Indeed.




Hmm, i'm thinking a sensor that recognises scanning beams from the tricorder. That in turn is connected to a valve in the toilet that increases the water pressure in the pipes. ergo, our dear spy gets blown into the sky by a massive water catapult.

And yes, its a sad fact I've actually spent time thinking about this.
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Old July 8 2011, 07:06 PM   #26
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

My prediction seems correct so far that a femme fatale is allowing the good doctor to walk into an Orion Syndicate trap. On the other hand, the story is not over yet, so all might not be as it appears. Will have to read on in case Miss Holland turns out to be a triple agent.
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Old July 8 2011, 07:20 PM   #27
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

Well, ares93, I'm sure Miss Holland's lipstick gadget would have found any such "sensors".

Enterprise1981...I'm a little suprised at your interperetation, there. She scans in the restroom, she reflects on whether the Syndicate would be sick enough to put bugs in a restroom...and then she does a full scan of the building--and you're wondering if she's working for the Syndicate?

If she were with them...I'd doubt she'd be so concerned with whether they knew about her actions.

(Perhaps it's my own fault, though. I worded her reflections, "...even if the owner was a member of the Syndicate." Perhaps I should have wrote "were" instead of "was"....)
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Old July 8 2011, 07:33 PM   #28
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

As I say, I'll definitely have to read on. If I'm wrong, I guess I'm thinking in terms of how a certain recent Trek novel ended.
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Old July 8 2011, 10:55 PM   #29
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

I'm lovin' it, Rush! Keep it up, I'm intrigued.
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Old July 9 2011, 02:38 AM   #30
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Re: Star Trek: From Risa With Love--An Adventure Of Dr. Julian Bashir

^Thanks!

Okay--here we go!

New casting note: I modeled the "owner" of the Palais, Durantel Crolin, loosely after the title character of Goldfinger. I also added in his physical description a little homage to a "tradition" of the Bond characters....


Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
"From Risa With Love"
Chapter 4



Julian Bashir looked about him, taking in the surroundings, as he walked over to a set of black couches and arm chairs. He sat down in one of the couches, which allowed him to face the direction of the restrooms.

It would be only a matter of time before someone would arrive for the “tour”. Cynthia would have to be quick in finishing her general scan—she almost certainly wouldn’t be able to finish it anywhere else in the building.

“Ah, you must be Dr. Bashir.”

Bashir turned to see a well-dressed, heavyset man walking towards him.

He rose from his seat, extending his hand. “I’m afraid you have me a disadvantage, sir.”

The man—humanoid, he wasn’t sure exactly which kind…probably Centaurian, or something similar—clasped the hand, shaking it firmly. “My name is Crolin, Doctor. Durantel Crolin. I am the owner of this edifice.”

Bashir smiled. “Indeed? I admit I wasn’t quite expecting…”

Crolin returned the smile. “Oh, we are somewhat…short on staff, Doctor Bashir. You understand—in time, I trust our services will be most…satisfactory.”

Bashir nodded his thanks. As he did so, he registered the man fully in his mind. Crolin had a somewhat round face, and a receding hairline…but with not a gray follicle on his head. He had a prominent forehead, and a large, sharp nose with a slight hook. He also had an old scar, which started on the side of his nose, and went across the side of his face, under his eye, stopping an inch or so below his ear.

This analysis all took the spans of a second, after which Bashir asked, “If I may, Mr. Crolin…does my reputation precede me that much?”

“Oh?”

He shrugged. “Well—you knew I was a doctor.”

Crolin nodded. “Ah, yes. Well…perhaps you underestimate your greatness, Dr. Bashir. You are certainly well-noted among the worlds of the Federation, if you haven’t been aware.”

“Oh…of course….”

Actually, he was all too aware—which was why he hadn’t bothered to come up with an alias for himself. Simplest is usually the best.

Bashir heard another pair of footsteps—and turned to see Cynthia coming towards him, giving him a confident, satisfied smile. She had done it. She was now wearing a pair of clip-on earrings…containing, he knew, miniature scanners to record the details of the resort.

He smiled, and said, “Ah, Gabby! This is Mr. Crolin, proprietor of the Palais de Mystère.” He turned to Crolin, spreading a hand to Cynthia. “This is Miss Gabrielle, my associate.”

Cynthia’s smile grew, as she extended a hand to the man. “A pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Crolin returned the grin. “The pleasure is mine, mademoiselle,” he said, taking the hand and bringing it to his lips.

To Cynthia’s credit, she gave no sign of revulsion.

After releasing the girl’s hand, Crolin turned to Bashir. “Now, Dr. Bashir…how may we service you?”

Bashir shrugged. “Well, it seems that we’re looking for accommodations for a future stay here, on Risa. Consider it…”

He glanced at Cynthia. She gave him a sweet, endearing smile as she clasped his hand, giving it a squeeze.

Bashir turned to Crolin with a similar smile. “…especially significant.”

Crolin nodded. “Ah, I see! Well—it will, at best, be a month before we reach our ideal…but in the meantime, I would be glad to give you both a preview of what will come.”

Cynthia grinned. “That would be wonderful.”

Bashir tilted his head. “I trust you’re done with construction and renovations, of course?”

Crolin snorted. “Of course!”

“Excellent! Then, could we bother you to give us a thorough preview?”

Crolin blinked. “Oh?”

Bashir shrugged. “Well, I’d imagine my patronage would be a great advertisement…so if I were to have a full knowledge of this place—I could give a complete review—my recommendations for different needs of visitors, which rooms for which, that sort of thing.”

After a split second’s hesitation, Crolin nodded. “Ah, yes…well, that is an excellent idea. Very well—a thorough tour it will be!”

Bashir nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

Crolin smiled. “No…the gratitude is mine, I assure you. Right this way….”

* * *

It was all perfect—too perfect. Frankly, there were a great many things wrong with that, as far as Bashir was concerned—things which he made sure to log in the photographic memory banks of his mind, to conjure them up when he would be able to safely.

As they entered the main turbolift to the ground floor, Crolin turned to Bashir with the seemingly permanent half-smile ever present on his face. “Well, Dr. Bashir, I trust it has been a satisfactory experience?”

Bashir returned the smile. “Oh, yes, it has, sir. Although…are we done, then?”

Crolin hesitated, and nodded slowly. “Of course…?”

Bashir shrugged. “Forgive me—I was wondering about the lower levels.”

“Oh?”

Bashir noticed Cynthia, outside the man’s line of vision, stiffen a bit as she also turned to him in concern.

Bashir spread a hand to the control panel on the wall. “There are two basement levels. I was just wondering as to their purposes—merely curiosity on my part, understand. See, one such level is…usually considered to be sufficient for maintenance and supplies.”

Cynthia’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she gave him a barely perceptible shake of her head.

Crolin didn’t bat an eye. “Ah, of course. Well, the higher level is reserved for offices, should we need them.”

Bashir made sure to raise his eyebrows in admiration. “Really! You intend to expand that quickly?”

“I feel this resort will become…a most prosperous business.”

Bashir let out a single whistle. “Well—I’m impressed, Mr. Crolin!”

Cynthia relaxed, visibly relieved.

Crolin nodded. “Thank you, Doctor. I was sure you, of all people, could understand ambition, and drive for success.”

“I certainly do, sir.”

The lift doors opened, and they stepped out into the main lobby. Bashir turned to Crolin, and said, “Well, sir, all in all, I’ve been most impressed. I believe I’ll give very serious thought to this place, once it is finished.”

Crolin nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Bashir. And Miss Gabrielle…” he took her hand again, “I would be most honored to accommodate you, as well.”

Cynthia smiled, and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

Crolin chuckled, and released her hand, extending his to Bashir. “Doctor…it has been an honor.”

Bashir took the man’s hand, shaking it firmly. “The honor was mine, sir.”

Crolin went back into the lift, as Cynthia and Bashir crossed the lobby, hands held again, exiting into the warm, sunny climate of Risa.

When they were a safe enough distance away, Cynthia rested her head against his shoulder, and muttered, “I wouldn’t have been as overt as you were in the lift, Doctor.”

Bashir shrugged. “Oh, I thought it was natural enough.”

“But was it necessary? We could have gone over it ourselves—frankly, I think we will, anyway.”

Bashir smiled, and turned to her. “My dear Cynthia…remind me later to instruct you on the importance of banter among gentlemen. It helps to create a sense of familiarity and trust.”

“I’m certain it does. Yet…somehow, it sounded a little too obvious.”

Bashir chuckled. “Well, you’ll have to forgive me. I’m not exactly a professional on this. Still…I do consider myself something of an expert in, shall I say, the finer points of conversation.”

Cynthia smiled. “Your ego is astounding, Dr. Bashir.”

Julian shrugged. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”


* * *
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"The saying implies but does not name the effective agency of its supposed utopia.... 'Needs and abilities' are, of course, subjective. So the operative statement may be reduced to 'the State shall take, the State shall give'."
--David Mamet
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