Author's Note: This is a short-story I wrote about seven years ago but never posted. I had often imagined what an encounter between the Bluefin's Senior Chief Solly Brin and Gibraltar's Pava Lar-ragos would be like. The two characters are vastly different physically yet both are extremely dangerous. They have appeared together in cross-over stories but always as allies, except for CeJay's current alt-universe tale,
"The Star Eagle Adventures: UT10 - Civil War," where Solly and Pava finally duke it out. (Read it, it's a GREAT story!)
Alas, Gibraltar has killed off Pava Lar'ragos (may a thousand rabid tribbles infest his furniture) so this story is conjectural and not "canon" to the United Trek universe. The setting is the 25th century, some 40 years after the current Bluefin stories.
24 February 2419
DeSola Merchant Station
Outland Expanse, Alpha Quadrant
He hasn’t aged a day, thought Solly Brin as he observed the new arrival in the small café. The burly red Orion blinked his right eye twice, adjusting the ocular implant’s focus and zooming in on the features of the man who now regarded Solly with a faint smile.
The implant was ten years old – a souvenir of his last run-in with the Orion Syndicate. Solly had managed to put a sizeable dent in the ancient crime organization, killing an even dozen clan leaders - Ahmet’surs in Orion parlance.
Brin had long known he must one day atone for his sins (though he did not count the eradication of the Syndicate leaders in that long list).
But he had not expected judgment to be carried out by Pava Lar’ragos.
It would be easy enough for most people to overlook the El-Aurian. Lar’ragos wore civilian attire of indefinite origin. He could have passed for Human or Rigellian or even a Betazoid from any of a hundred worlds. The tan overcoat and dark shirt were modern without being trendy. He wore the vaguely distracted expression of a man on holiday, concerned with nothing more than what to choose from the menu. Even his build was average . . . fit but not overly muscular. He looked more like a librarian than a soldier.
Solly knew better. He had met Lar’ragos twice and actually worked with him once, over 40 years earlier. That was when Solly was still the senior NCO on the USS Bluefin and Pava was an officer on the USS Gibraltar. It had been Lieutenant Lar’ragos back then. Solly idly wondered if Pava was still in Starfleet or if he worked for someone else.
Lar’ragos stepped up to the counter and placed his order. Brin could not detect any tell-tale bulges in the El-Aurian's clothing, an indicator that Lar'ragos carried a weapon. Not that Pava needed one. For that matter, he likely had a half-dozen weapons secreted on his person. Solly had no doubt that Lar’ragos could take out the entire station single-handed given proper motivation, time, and opportunity.
The Orion did not fear The Most Dangerous Man in the Quadrant, but neither was he foolish enough to let his guard down. He took a sip of coffee as his left-hand released the safety on his Braakman Boltcaster secreted in his left coat pocket. Brin felt the familiar warmth on the grip as the capacitors charged.
The El-Aurian nodded his head in thanks to the barista as he received his drink, then turned and casually made his way toward Solly.
For his part, Solly began to size up the tactical situation. He was armed with his Boltcaster, currently aimed at Lar’ragos mid-section. Unfortunately, he was also seated, putting himself at a distinct disadvantage vis-à-vis maneuverability. The café was crowded with customers and Solly was loathe to put civilians in harm’s way, even to protect his own skin. And, putting pride aside, he was long past his physical prime. The scars of countless battles had taken their toll.
“It’s not the years, it’s the miles that get you,” the voice of Joseph Akinola spoke in his head. His long-dead friend spoke to him often these days.
Pava Lar’ragos, though older than Solly by at least three centuries, still appeared relatively youthful. Only his eyes betrayed the accumulated years. Those eyes were now fixed on Solly with an unsettling depth that belied the slight smile and casual demeanor.
“It appears the other tables are taken. Mind if I share yours?” asked Lar’ragos in a mild tone.
Solly shrugged fractionally, careful to maintain target lock with the gun hidden under the table. “Why not? It’s a free quadrant.”
“Thanks.” The El-Aurian eased into a chair and sipped his beverage. He idly glanced around the café like a tourist checking out the local charm.
Solly was having none of it. “How did you find me, Commander?”
“Pava, please.” He took another sip of Rigellian spiced coffee. “We’ve known your location for months, Senior Chief. There aren’t that many red Orions in Federation space; fewer still with your size and physical prowess. Besides, you haven’t exactly been hiding.”
Brin grunted. “True enough, I suppose. And it’s ‘Solly.’ I’ve been out of the service for forty years. I guess desertion is the least of my crimes.”
“Oh, that. Well, it’s true that your tirade did raise some hackles within the Border Service and Starfleet Command. But saner voices prevailed and pointed out that you managed to accomplish in short order what Special Ops had been unable to do for decades. Throw in some truly plausible deniability and you’ve become a virtual hero within certain circles.”
Solly’s eyes narrowed. He was surprised that his highly refined bullshit detector was not pinging. Despite himself, he believed Lar’ragos was telling the truth. Or at least the El-Aurian believed what he said to be true.
“By the way,” continued Pava as he placed his mug on the table. “Do you mind pointing that cannon in a different direction? If your finger twitches there won’t be enough left of me for a decent DNA sample.”
Brin was equally sure that Lar’ragos was fully prepared for any attack. Nonetheless he removed his hand from the pocket of his jacket and placed it on the table.
“I’ve shown you mine, Mr. Lar’ragos. How ‘bout you show me yours?”
“Pava,” the El-Aurian corrected again. He held up both hands, wiggling his fingers for emphasis.
“I’m not armed.”
Solly smiled. A lesser man than Pava would have been terrified by Brin’s expression. “Maybe not in the traditional sense. I heard you once killed a man with a salt shaker.”
“An exaggeration. It was a pepper shaker and my assailant recovered. Eventually.”
The Orion was silent for a moment as he regarded The Last Man off Tzenketh. He wasn’t sure what he had expected of such an encounter, but exchanging pleasantries had not made the list.
“What’s your game, Mr. Larragos? Am I supposed to surrender quietly? Are we to fight it out in a crowded cafe? Or are the other patrons in here armed security pukes? I’m getting a little nervous, Mr. Lar’ragos, and I tend to do rash things when I’m nervous.”
It was Pava’s turn to smile. “My apologies, Senior Chief, I should have clarified my intentions. I’m not here to ‘bring you to justice,’ as it were. I’m here to offer you a job.”
Solly blinked. This was a scenario he had not envisioned. “What?”
Lar’ragos slowly moved his hand toward his coat, pausing as he saw Solly tense. “On my word as a Starfleet officer, I am not reaching for a weapon.”
“Go ahead,” replied Solly as he surreptitiously returned his left hand to the butt of his Boltcaster pistol.
Pava produced two small data PADDs and placed them on the table. “I apologize for the old-school technology, but since you don’t have the Fleet issue implants, this seemed simplest.”
Solly nodded, quelling a satisfied smirk. In fact, he had procured Fleet comm/data implants nearly five years ago on the black market. So Lar’ragos didn’t know everything about him.
Pava slid one of the PADDs to Solly. “Read this one first.”
Brin scanned the PADD quickly, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. “A full pardon with reinstatement of my rank as Senior Chief Petty Officer in the Border Service with back pay?”
“Which I took the liberty of depositing in your account on Ferengar.”
Solly ignored the somewhat smug jibe. That particular account was not even his primary funding source. Score two points for the Orion.
“All contingent on you taking on this assignment.” Pava slid across the second PADD.
Solly read it. He read it a second time, certain he had misread it.
He looked up at the El-Aurian, truly surprised. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am quite serious, Senior Chief.”
“But this . . . this is . . .”
“What? Illegal? Immoral?” Pava shook his head. “What do you call the cold-blooded murder of twelve Ahmet’surs?”
“Justice,” replied Solly in a growl that would have sent most men fleeing for their lives. Pava merely smiled.
“Perhaps. The same could be said for the orders on that PADD." He took a sip of coffee before folding his arms on the table and leaning closer. "I need your answer, Senior Chief. Are you in or out?”
“Can I think about it?”
“Certainly. You have one minute. At that time, I will leave this establishment and give a signal to an assault team waiting outside. Depending on the signal, you will either leave as a free man on a mission or you will likely depart this station in a body bag. Probably several body bags.”
The El-Aurian peered at Solly with eyes as cold as an Andorian winter. “You’re a dangerous being, Solly Brin. I have the utmost respect for you and your formidable combat skills. But the people out there work for me. I trained them. Odds are you could take one of them, maybe two. You would not survive the third – and there are more than three waiting.”
Solly considered this. “So what’s the point of bringing me back into the service only to let me back off the leash?”
A startled expression crossed Pava’s face. The El-Aurian recovered quickly, but all the pleasantness was gone from his voice. Brin found the sudden change in demeanor as interesting as it was puzzling.
“Time’s up, Senior Chief Brin. Are you in or out?”
Solly returned Pava’s gaze without flinching. Truth be told, he was tired . . . oh, so tired. Age and injuries were catching up with him. He’d lost a step and his reflexes were not as quick as they used to be. Most days, it hurt like the seven hells just to get out of bed.
Still . . .
Senior Chief Solly Brin stood as did Pava. He was considerably taller than Lar’ragos, forcing the El-Aurian to look up.
“Well?” pressed Lar’ragos. Brin noticed the subtle change in the smaller man’s posture, the faint tension around his eyes and mouth. The El-Aurian was ready.
Solly gave Pava his answer.
END
"The Star Eagle Adventures: UT10 - Civil War," where Solly and Pava finally duke it out. (Read it, it's a GREAT story!)
Alas, Gibraltar has killed off Pava Lar'ragos (may a thousand rabid tribbles infest his furniture) so this story is conjectural and not "canon" to the United Trek universe. The setting is the 25th century, some 40 years after the current Bluefin stories.
24 February 2419
DeSola Merchant Station
Outland Expanse, Alpha Quadrant
He hasn’t aged a day, thought Solly Brin as he observed the new arrival in the small café. The burly red Orion blinked his right eye twice, adjusting the ocular implant’s focus and zooming in on the features of the man who now regarded Solly with a faint smile.
The implant was ten years old – a souvenir of his last run-in with the Orion Syndicate. Solly had managed to put a sizeable dent in the ancient crime organization, killing an even dozen clan leaders - Ahmet’surs in Orion parlance.
Brin had long known he must one day atone for his sins (though he did not count the eradication of the Syndicate leaders in that long list).
But he had not expected judgment to be carried out by Pava Lar’ragos.
It would be easy enough for most people to overlook the El-Aurian. Lar’ragos wore civilian attire of indefinite origin. He could have passed for Human or Rigellian or even a Betazoid from any of a hundred worlds. The tan overcoat and dark shirt were modern without being trendy. He wore the vaguely distracted expression of a man on holiday, concerned with nothing more than what to choose from the menu. Even his build was average . . . fit but not overly muscular. He looked more like a librarian than a soldier.
Solly knew better. He had met Lar’ragos twice and actually worked with him once, over 40 years earlier. That was when Solly was still the senior NCO on the USS Bluefin and Pava was an officer on the USS Gibraltar. It had been Lieutenant Lar’ragos back then. Solly idly wondered if Pava was still in Starfleet or if he worked for someone else.
Lar’ragos stepped up to the counter and placed his order. Brin could not detect any tell-tale bulges in the El-Aurian's clothing, an indicator that Lar'ragos carried a weapon. Not that Pava needed one. For that matter, he likely had a half-dozen weapons secreted on his person. Solly had no doubt that Lar’ragos could take out the entire station single-handed given proper motivation, time, and opportunity.
The Orion did not fear The Most Dangerous Man in the Quadrant, but neither was he foolish enough to let his guard down. He took a sip of coffee as his left-hand released the safety on his Braakman Boltcaster secreted in his left coat pocket. Brin felt the familiar warmth on the grip as the capacitors charged.
The El-Aurian nodded his head in thanks to the barista as he received his drink, then turned and casually made his way toward Solly.
For his part, Solly began to size up the tactical situation. He was armed with his Boltcaster, currently aimed at Lar’ragos mid-section. Unfortunately, he was also seated, putting himself at a distinct disadvantage vis-à-vis maneuverability. The café was crowded with customers and Solly was loathe to put civilians in harm’s way, even to protect his own skin. And, putting pride aside, he was long past his physical prime. The scars of countless battles had taken their toll.
“It’s not the years, it’s the miles that get you,” the voice of Joseph Akinola spoke in his head. His long-dead friend spoke to him often these days.
Pava Lar’ragos, though older than Solly by at least three centuries, still appeared relatively youthful. Only his eyes betrayed the accumulated years. Those eyes were now fixed on Solly with an unsettling depth that belied the slight smile and casual demeanor.
“It appears the other tables are taken. Mind if I share yours?” asked Lar’ragos in a mild tone.
Solly shrugged fractionally, careful to maintain target lock with the gun hidden under the table. “Why not? It’s a free quadrant.”
“Thanks.” The El-Aurian eased into a chair and sipped his beverage. He idly glanced around the café like a tourist checking out the local charm.
Solly was having none of it. “How did you find me, Commander?”
“Pava, please.” He took another sip of Rigellian spiced coffee. “We’ve known your location for months, Senior Chief. There aren’t that many red Orions in Federation space; fewer still with your size and physical prowess. Besides, you haven’t exactly been hiding.”
Brin grunted. “True enough, I suppose. And it’s ‘Solly.’ I’ve been out of the service for forty years. I guess desertion is the least of my crimes.”
“Oh, that. Well, it’s true that your tirade did raise some hackles within the Border Service and Starfleet Command. But saner voices prevailed and pointed out that you managed to accomplish in short order what Special Ops had been unable to do for decades. Throw in some truly plausible deniability and you’ve become a virtual hero within certain circles.”
Solly’s eyes narrowed. He was surprised that his highly refined bullshit detector was not pinging. Despite himself, he believed Lar’ragos was telling the truth. Or at least the El-Aurian believed what he said to be true.
“By the way,” continued Pava as he placed his mug on the table. “Do you mind pointing that cannon in a different direction? If your finger twitches there won’t be enough left of me for a decent DNA sample.”
Brin was equally sure that Lar’ragos was fully prepared for any attack. Nonetheless he removed his hand from the pocket of his jacket and placed it on the table.
“I’ve shown you mine, Mr. Lar’ragos. How ‘bout you show me yours?”
“Pava,” the El-Aurian corrected again. He held up both hands, wiggling his fingers for emphasis.
“I’m not armed.”
Solly smiled. A lesser man than Pava would have been terrified by Brin’s expression. “Maybe not in the traditional sense. I heard you once killed a man with a salt shaker.”
“An exaggeration. It was a pepper shaker and my assailant recovered. Eventually.”
The Orion was silent for a moment as he regarded The Last Man off Tzenketh. He wasn’t sure what he had expected of such an encounter, but exchanging pleasantries had not made the list.
“What’s your game, Mr. Larragos? Am I supposed to surrender quietly? Are we to fight it out in a crowded cafe? Or are the other patrons in here armed security pukes? I’m getting a little nervous, Mr. Lar’ragos, and I tend to do rash things when I’m nervous.”
It was Pava’s turn to smile. “My apologies, Senior Chief, I should have clarified my intentions. I’m not here to ‘bring you to justice,’ as it were. I’m here to offer you a job.”
Solly blinked. This was a scenario he had not envisioned. “What?”
Lar’ragos slowly moved his hand toward his coat, pausing as he saw Solly tense. “On my word as a Starfleet officer, I am not reaching for a weapon.”
“Go ahead,” replied Solly as he surreptitiously returned his left hand to the butt of his Boltcaster pistol.
Pava produced two small data PADDs and placed them on the table. “I apologize for the old-school technology, but since you don’t have the Fleet issue implants, this seemed simplest.”
Solly nodded, quelling a satisfied smirk. In fact, he had procured Fleet comm/data implants nearly five years ago on the black market. So Lar’ragos didn’t know everything about him.
Pava slid one of the PADDs to Solly. “Read this one first.”
Brin scanned the PADD quickly, his brow furrowed in puzzlement. “A full pardon with reinstatement of my rank as Senior Chief Petty Officer in the Border Service with back pay?”
“Which I took the liberty of depositing in your account on Ferengar.”
Solly ignored the somewhat smug jibe. That particular account was not even his primary funding source. Score two points for the Orion.
“All contingent on you taking on this assignment.” Pava slid across the second PADD.
Solly read it. He read it a second time, certain he had misread it.
He looked up at the El-Aurian, truly surprised. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am quite serious, Senior Chief.”
“But this . . . this is . . .”
“What? Illegal? Immoral?” Pava shook his head. “What do you call the cold-blooded murder of twelve Ahmet’surs?”
“Justice,” replied Solly in a growl that would have sent most men fleeing for their lives. Pava merely smiled.
“Perhaps. The same could be said for the orders on that PADD." He took a sip of coffee before folding his arms on the table and leaning closer. "I need your answer, Senior Chief. Are you in or out?”
“Can I think about it?”
“Certainly. You have one minute. At that time, I will leave this establishment and give a signal to an assault team waiting outside. Depending on the signal, you will either leave as a free man on a mission or you will likely depart this station in a body bag. Probably several body bags.”
The El-Aurian peered at Solly with eyes as cold as an Andorian winter. “You’re a dangerous being, Solly Brin. I have the utmost respect for you and your formidable combat skills. But the people out there work for me. I trained them. Odds are you could take one of them, maybe two. You would not survive the third – and there are more than three waiting.”
Solly considered this. “So what’s the point of bringing me back into the service only to let me back off the leash?”
A startled expression crossed Pava’s face. The El-Aurian recovered quickly, but all the pleasantness was gone from his voice. Brin found the sudden change in demeanor as interesting as it was puzzling.
“Time’s up, Senior Chief Brin. Are you in or out?”
Solly returned Pava’s gaze without flinching. Truth be told, he was tired . . . oh, so tired. Age and injuries were catching up with him. He’d lost a step and his reflexes were not as quick as they used to be. Most days, it hurt like the seven hells just to get out of bed.
Still . . .
Senior Chief Solly Brin stood as did Pava. He was considerably taller than Lar’ragos, forcing the El-Aurian to look up.
“Well?” pressed Lar’ragos. Brin noticed the subtle change in the smaller man’s posture, the faint tension around his eyes and mouth. The El-Aurian was ready.
Solly gave Pava his answer.
END
One day, I may write a follow-up and answer that question.
