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STAR TREK : ANGEL – VIGNETTE SIX
HARCOURT FENTON MUDD
MY NAME IS MUDD
The greatest friend of con artists is lack of knowledge.
Jane King
Me, I'm dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest.
Jack Sparrow – Fictional Pirate
NO infringement is intended. All other material is copyright to Unusualsuspex 2010.
STAR TREK : ANGEL – VIGNETTE SIX
HARCOURT FENTON MUDD
MY NAME IS MUDD
The greatest friend of con artists is lack of knowledge.
Jane King
Me, I'm dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest.
Jack Sparrow – Fictional Pirate
CATALAN SPACEPORT
HELAK IV
HELAK SYSTEM
UFP SPACE
13th July 2269 – 1437 FST
Sentenced to an indefinite period of rehabilitation therapy, thought Harry. Sounds absolutely disgusting. Not that he had any intention whatsoever of completing said sentence, nor even starting it, but contemplating it focussed his mind on ways to avoid it.
And if there was one thing Harcourt Fenton Mudd was replete with, it was plans. Each and every one was a sure fire, credit spinning, life enhancing winner; until it was put into practice at least, because the Universe (according to Harry) was very much against him.
In particular, Captain James T Bloody Kirk and his ship full of moral guardians. He’d made a serious mental note - and metaphysically underlined it several times in red – to make sure that his next operation would be planned so as not to coincide with the USS Enterprise’s patrol route. He didn’t care if that meant giving up the chance to reap an easy profit somewhere because he knew without a doubt, if the Enterprise was anywhere nearby, the profits would be short-lived.
On the whole, Harry wasn’t a vindictive man but he couldn’t deny that there were times when he imagined pulling the biggest con of his life and simultaneously arranging it so that Kirk was made to look the buffoon that he was. Double whammy in Harry’s opinion, but the opportunity had yet to arise.
“We would like to thank you for flying Xahar Lines and hope that you enjoyed your journey. Donations to the Xahar Blessed Missionary Fund may be left when you exit the ship.”
Harry returned to the present as the automated ship’s message penetrated his thoughts.
“Time to leave Mr Mudd. Need a hand?”
The young Federation Law Enforcement Agent looked at Harry with some concern, and rightly so because Harry knew he looked pale and sickly. It wasn’t because he was actually ill, more the Califan tablets he’d taken. ‘Guaranteed,’ according to his actor friend, ‘to induce a much needed and authentic appearance of illness.’
“If you wouldn’t mind young man, yes please.” Harry put all the pathos and misery he could into his act tempering it with a little dash of rarely seen humility. “I seem to be feeling a little under the weather.”
“Oh, erm…” Harry knew right then that not only had the FLEAs given him a green escort, he seemed to be one who hadn’t had his conscience surgically removed yet. He was irked that they considered him such a low priority they should assign an unseasoned agent to his escort, and at the same time glad that they had provided the final means to his escape. As the young man held out a steadying hand, Harry took it gingerly.
“Thank you. I’m afraid this has all been a bit of a strain on me young fella.”
As he stood, he stumbled, knocking the young agent backwards as he attempted to catch him.
“Whoops there. Looks like we’ll need to take it steady for a while if that’s alright?”
Harry was all surface concern over the embarrassment he was causing while carefully palming the pilfered security chip.
FIVE HOURS EARLIER
ABOARD ‘THE CARMEL TRIBUTE’
EN ROUTE TO HELAK IV
UFP SPACE
13th July 2269 – 0940 FST
Harry’s single statutory comms call had been to his mother. Or rather it hadn’t but the FLEA agent hadn’t known that naturally.
“Please be brief Mr Mudd.”
“Oh, of course. Just need to let the old dear know that I won’t be able to make her birthday that’s all, you understand.”
The agent had retreated a discrete distance from the public comm booth aboard the liner where he could hear but not be seen to be listening and Harry punched in the one use number. As soon as it answered he went into his theatrical act.
“Mother, its Harry…no, no its alright but I just thought I’d call to say happy birthday…what’s that? No I’m sorry I won’t be able to make the party I’m afraid…I have a business trip to Helak IV, yes…yes. Just make sure you have those lovely fireworks, you know the ones we had on Teminar…That’s right. Take care Mother, see you soon.”
He hung up the connection and dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve as the agent approached once more to take him by the arm.
“She’s a good woman Agent Frost. A good, good woman.”
He wasn’t lying as such; he just wasn’t talking about his mother.
CATALAN SPACEPORT
HELAK IV
HELAK SYSTEM
UFP SPACE
13th July 2269 – 1502 FST
They’d cleared customs and were just exiting the main spaceport arrivals hall when things got extraordinarily noisy. The whine of phasers accompanied by an impressive barrage of beams criss-crossing the room threw the mass of departing passengers into a wild panic.
Some threw themselves to the ground, arms covering their heads for imagined protection, but not Harry. Others froze in place, rooted to the spot by fear. Harry wasn’t one of those either. The majority ran for their lives and Harry was most definitely in that group.
The turmoil effectively cut him off from the young agent and Harry quickly lost sight of him in the heaving mass of bodies attempting to escape the non-existent carnage. A strong hand grabbed his arm, steering him away from the exits and down a little used side passage where the sound of fake phaser fire gradually faded.
“I see Mary remembered the fireworks then?”
The tall, dark skinned man nodded once with a feral grin, though Harry didn’t expect much conversation from him. Mappo had had his tongue cut out in a gang feud with Orion pirates many years before.
Quickly swiping the security chip against the cuff’s lock, Harry removed the offending item and cheerfully dumped it into a nearby recycler. Rubbing at his wrists, he managed to keep pace with the long legged Mappo as they headed through a warren of what appeared to be service corridors before emerging into the less salubrious part of Catalan Spaceport. Harry felt immediately at home.
Intermittent pools of light did little to brighten the dingy outer docking bays which is why the port authorities seldom ventured out here unless absolutely necessary. Even then, they tended to wait until the firefight had finished before arriving.
“Oh my, but you’re not looking well.”
He recognised the voice immediately and knew they’d arrived at the Stella Escape. One of two vessels that Harry always left with trusted (and usually indebted) acquaintances, the Stella Escape was perhaps his preferred choice which is why he’d contacted Mary.
“Hello Mother,” he quipped brightly. “I might say that you’re looking remarkably chipper for a centenarian.”
Mary rolled her eye, and spat a wad of…well of something, out on to the ferrocrete.
“Better hurry Harry, those fireworks have probably fizzled by now.”
The fireworks were in fact squibs used for military training that gave the impression of phaser fire without the associated nasty side effect of death. Planted at random points across the arrivals hall by Mary’s three sons, they had worked as advertised.
He quickly followed Mappo up the ramp with Mary and saw that Tolk and Bar, her other two sons, were already aboard. Sons was actually a bit of a misnomer unless you accepted the loose term of adopted. They had been apprentice associates of her late husband and Mary had taken them in after the ‘last big job’ went wrong. In return they now worked for Mary who, it transpired, was much better at business than her late husband had ever been.
As Tolk joined Mappo in the cockpit, Bar secured the airlock, and it was not much later that harry was enjoying a drink of dubious origins with Mary as the Stella Escape departed innocently from Helak IV.
CHAND PRIVATEER
NETHARI/FEDERATION BORDER REGION
UFP SPACE
13th July 2269 – 1527 FST
The Chand vessel was typical of the ones operated throughout this border region. Ugly, dirty, battered but extremely fast and well armed. The first three characteristics mattered little compared to the latter two, because piracy was the Chand stock in trade. Few in the region would contest a Chand vessel and those foolish enough (or naïve enough) to believe that they could either outrun or outgun one of the privateers soon learned their mistake.
Just 10,000 kilometres on the Federation side of the disputed border, one such vessel was having problems. More correctly, problems were being caused to the ship by its recently stolen cargo.
The Chand privateer had stolen across the border in search of a Nethari convoy allegedly carrying one of their most treasured religious artefacts. To the Chand, that smelt of big money. Heavily armed escorts simply made the challenge more interesting for them and a mere hour after first sighting the convoy, the precious cargo was theirs.
Imagine their disappointment then, when they discovered that the artefact was neither glistening with jewels nor coated with gold pressed latinum. Instead, it sat dull and lifeless in an intricately carved titanium casket lined with Tholian silk.
“You mean I risked my ship for this piece of gek?”
“All the information we got said this was big time, boss.”
The captain turned to his deputy with a sneer that wouldn’t have been out of place in a holo-novel. A poor holo-novel.
“Does it look big time you idiot? What the plok is it?”
The Chand privateer language was arcane but usually, the bits that a universal translator couldn’t handle were self evident in the right context.
“It’s…well I’m fairly certain it’s…”
“It’s glowing boss!”
The Captain spun around to see one of the less intelligent crew members wide eyed and pointing to where there appeared to a set of four gems inlaid into the artefact’s surface.
Pushing the imbecile aside with the butt of his pistol, the Captain peered closely at the gems before taking a wickedly pointed knife from the sheath at his belt. Slipping the point of it into the thin gap surrounding the first gem, he pushed down and tried to prise it free. While there was no immediate freeing of the gem, a small hum started deep within the bowels of the artefact which went completely unnoticed in the noisy environs of the Chand cargo bay.
Having little luck with the first gem, the Captain began to work on the second and that’s when things went wrong. The moment he pushed his knife below the seal, a blue aura surrounded him. Lifted from the deck and twitching like one of the ghouls from Chand legend, he found he could neither let go of the knife nor speak.
His crew drew back making superstitious signs of protection and then the Chand vessel disappeared…
…before reappearing seconds later in the same spot. All aboard the privateer were quite dead and had been for over seventy years. The artefact sat quietly in the hold, now quiescent and waiting.
HELAK IV
HELAK SYSTEM
UFP SPACE
13th July 2269 – 1437 FST
Sentenced to an indefinite period of rehabilitation therapy, thought Harry. Sounds absolutely disgusting. Not that he had any intention whatsoever of completing said sentence, nor even starting it, but contemplating it focussed his mind on ways to avoid it.
And if there was one thing Harcourt Fenton Mudd was replete with, it was plans. Each and every one was a sure fire, credit spinning, life enhancing winner; until it was put into practice at least, because the Universe (according to Harry) was very much against him.
In particular, Captain James T Bloody Kirk and his ship full of moral guardians. He’d made a serious mental note - and metaphysically underlined it several times in red – to make sure that his next operation would be planned so as not to coincide with the USS Enterprise’s patrol route. He didn’t care if that meant giving up the chance to reap an easy profit somewhere because he knew without a doubt, if the Enterprise was anywhere nearby, the profits would be short-lived.
On the whole, Harry wasn’t a vindictive man but he couldn’t deny that there were times when he imagined pulling the biggest con of his life and simultaneously arranging it so that Kirk was made to look the buffoon that he was. Double whammy in Harry’s opinion, but the opportunity had yet to arise.
“We would like to thank you for flying Xahar Lines and hope that you enjoyed your journey. Donations to the Xahar Blessed Missionary Fund may be left when you exit the ship.”
Harry returned to the present as the automated ship’s message penetrated his thoughts.
“Time to leave Mr Mudd. Need a hand?”
The young Federation Law Enforcement Agent looked at Harry with some concern, and rightly so because Harry knew he looked pale and sickly. It wasn’t because he was actually ill, more the Califan tablets he’d taken. ‘Guaranteed,’ according to his actor friend, ‘to induce a much needed and authentic appearance of illness.’
“If you wouldn’t mind young man, yes please.” Harry put all the pathos and misery he could into his act tempering it with a little dash of rarely seen humility. “I seem to be feeling a little under the weather.”
“Oh, erm…” Harry knew right then that not only had the FLEAs given him a green escort, he seemed to be one who hadn’t had his conscience surgically removed yet. He was irked that they considered him such a low priority they should assign an unseasoned agent to his escort, and at the same time glad that they had provided the final means to his escape. As the young man held out a steadying hand, Harry took it gingerly.
“Thank you. I’m afraid this has all been a bit of a strain on me young fella.”
As he stood, he stumbled, knocking the young agent backwards as he attempted to catch him.
“Whoops there. Looks like we’ll need to take it steady for a while if that’s alright?”
Harry was all surface concern over the embarrassment he was causing while carefully palming the pilfered security chip.
FIVE HOURS EARLIER
ABOARD ‘THE CARMEL TRIBUTE’
EN ROUTE TO HELAK IV
UFP SPACE
13th July 2269 – 0940 FST
Harry’s single statutory comms call had been to his mother. Or rather it hadn’t but the FLEA agent hadn’t known that naturally.
“Please be brief Mr Mudd.”
“Oh, of course. Just need to let the old dear know that I won’t be able to make her birthday that’s all, you understand.”
The agent had retreated a discrete distance from the public comm booth aboard the liner where he could hear but not be seen to be listening and Harry punched in the one use number. As soon as it answered he went into his theatrical act.
“Mother, its Harry…no, no its alright but I just thought I’d call to say happy birthday…what’s that? No I’m sorry I won’t be able to make the party I’m afraid…I have a business trip to Helak IV, yes…yes. Just make sure you have those lovely fireworks, you know the ones we had on Teminar…That’s right. Take care Mother, see you soon.”
He hung up the connection and dabbed at his eyes with his sleeve as the agent approached once more to take him by the arm.
“She’s a good woman Agent Frost. A good, good woman.”
He wasn’t lying as such; he just wasn’t talking about his mother.
CATALAN SPACEPORT
HELAK IV
HELAK SYSTEM
UFP SPACE
13th July 2269 – 1502 FST
They’d cleared customs and were just exiting the main spaceport arrivals hall when things got extraordinarily noisy. The whine of phasers accompanied by an impressive barrage of beams criss-crossing the room threw the mass of departing passengers into a wild panic.
Some threw themselves to the ground, arms covering their heads for imagined protection, but not Harry. Others froze in place, rooted to the spot by fear. Harry wasn’t one of those either. The majority ran for their lives and Harry was most definitely in that group.
The turmoil effectively cut him off from the young agent and Harry quickly lost sight of him in the heaving mass of bodies attempting to escape the non-existent carnage. A strong hand grabbed his arm, steering him away from the exits and down a little used side passage where the sound of fake phaser fire gradually faded.
“I see Mary remembered the fireworks then?”
The tall, dark skinned man nodded once with a feral grin, though Harry didn’t expect much conversation from him. Mappo had had his tongue cut out in a gang feud with Orion pirates many years before.
Quickly swiping the security chip against the cuff’s lock, Harry removed the offending item and cheerfully dumped it into a nearby recycler. Rubbing at his wrists, he managed to keep pace with the long legged Mappo as they headed through a warren of what appeared to be service corridors before emerging into the less salubrious part of Catalan Spaceport. Harry felt immediately at home.
Intermittent pools of light did little to brighten the dingy outer docking bays which is why the port authorities seldom ventured out here unless absolutely necessary. Even then, they tended to wait until the firefight had finished before arriving.
“Oh my, but you’re not looking well.”
He recognised the voice immediately and knew they’d arrived at the Stella Escape. One of two vessels that Harry always left with trusted (and usually indebted) acquaintances, the Stella Escape was perhaps his preferred choice which is why he’d contacted Mary.
“Hello Mother,” he quipped brightly. “I might say that you’re looking remarkably chipper for a centenarian.”
Mary rolled her eye, and spat a wad of…well of something, out on to the ferrocrete.
“Better hurry Harry, those fireworks have probably fizzled by now.”
The fireworks were in fact squibs used for military training that gave the impression of phaser fire without the associated nasty side effect of death. Planted at random points across the arrivals hall by Mary’s three sons, they had worked as advertised.
He quickly followed Mappo up the ramp with Mary and saw that Tolk and Bar, her other two sons, were already aboard. Sons was actually a bit of a misnomer unless you accepted the loose term of adopted. They had been apprentice associates of her late husband and Mary had taken them in after the ‘last big job’ went wrong. In return they now worked for Mary who, it transpired, was much better at business than her late husband had ever been.
As Tolk joined Mappo in the cockpit, Bar secured the airlock, and it was not much later that harry was enjoying a drink of dubious origins with Mary as the Stella Escape departed innocently from Helak IV.
CHAND PRIVATEER
NETHARI/FEDERATION BORDER REGION
UFP SPACE
13th July 2269 – 1527 FST
The Chand vessel was typical of the ones operated throughout this border region. Ugly, dirty, battered but extremely fast and well armed. The first three characteristics mattered little compared to the latter two, because piracy was the Chand stock in trade. Few in the region would contest a Chand vessel and those foolish enough (or naïve enough) to believe that they could either outrun or outgun one of the privateers soon learned their mistake.
Just 10,000 kilometres on the Federation side of the disputed border, one such vessel was having problems. More correctly, problems were being caused to the ship by its recently stolen cargo.
The Chand privateer had stolen across the border in search of a Nethari convoy allegedly carrying one of their most treasured religious artefacts. To the Chand, that smelt of big money. Heavily armed escorts simply made the challenge more interesting for them and a mere hour after first sighting the convoy, the precious cargo was theirs.
Imagine their disappointment then, when they discovered that the artefact was neither glistening with jewels nor coated with gold pressed latinum. Instead, it sat dull and lifeless in an intricately carved titanium casket lined with Tholian silk.
“You mean I risked my ship for this piece of gek?”
“All the information we got said this was big time, boss.”
The captain turned to his deputy with a sneer that wouldn’t have been out of place in a holo-novel. A poor holo-novel.
“Does it look big time you idiot? What the plok is it?”
The Chand privateer language was arcane but usually, the bits that a universal translator couldn’t handle were self evident in the right context.
“It’s…well I’m fairly certain it’s…”
“It’s glowing boss!”
The Captain spun around to see one of the less intelligent crew members wide eyed and pointing to where there appeared to a set of four gems inlaid into the artefact’s surface.
Pushing the imbecile aside with the butt of his pistol, the Captain peered closely at the gems before taking a wickedly pointed knife from the sheath at his belt. Slipping the point of it into the thin gap surrounding the first gem, he pushed down and tried to prise it free. While there was no immediate freeing of the gem, a small hum started deep within the bowels of the artefact which went completely unnoticed in the noisy environs of the Chand cargo bay.
Having little luck with the first gem, the Captain began to work on the second and that’s when things went wrong. The moment he pushed his knife below the seal, a blue aura surrounded him. Lifted from the deck and twitching like one of the ghouls from Chand legend, he found he could neither let go of the knife nor speak.
His crew drew back making superstitious signs of protection and then the Chand vessel disappeared…
…before reappearing seconds later in the same spot. All aboard the privateer were quite dead and had been for over seventy years. The artefact sat quietly in the hold, now quiescent and waiting.
