It’s Never Business as Usual
Posted on Sun Nov 30th, 2025 @ 5:00pm by Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Aris Loch
2,489 words; about a 12 minute read
Mission:
Peril at the Unification Accords
Location: Helaspont Resort & Casino, Barisa Prime
Timeline: 16 Days Prior to MD 01
The recreational facilities were bustling with activity. The Helaspont Resort and Casino was established several years ago and was a welcoming vacation and gaming port for the weary traveler and visitors from across the quadrant.
Razella, a Ferengi female, has been the facility manager for approximately 18 months. She was pleased her hard work and determination resulted in profits hand over fist. It was not always that way. The resort was abandoned by its former manager, a Yridian male. Equipment was left broken down and went unmaintained for over a year. The weather modification net fell into disrepair and the building site was in shambles. Razella was able to raise the funds to restore the entire resort to full operation.
Razella was a smart woman with a keen sense of business acumen, and had taken into consideration the increased presence of Romulans on this side of the Beta Quadrant since the Hobus supernova. She understood that they valued privacy and quiet, and that even those Federation types didn't necessarily want their vices on display, which is why during the remodel the casino went underground. The underground casino was huge, and spanned a good distance. There were your very public dabo and craps tables for the crowds, but also plenty of privacy booths for most of the games, and private rooms, and invitation only halls. Guests paid for privacy and for the elite experience.
The main level and above contained lodging, multiple pool areas including a swim-up bar, their massage and spa, now advertising the opportunity to rent out private rooms for meditation purposes in advance of the upcoming conference where Razella expected numerous Vulcans to attend.
Loch was recently back in the region, curious about the activity that the conference would stir up - as well as rumors about the heavy Starfleet presence, though he tended to maintain a low profile, which was why he was here a few weeks early to get settled in, to blend in before everyone started arriving. The last time he was here, Helaspont was about half of what it appeared to be today. The new owner seemed to be moving quickly with the remodels.
He took a seat at the bar and waited to be served.
The humidity around the resort wasn't quite coastal, but it clung to the air in the late afternoon like an conversation that had gone on too long. The Helaspont rose like a gleaming jewel above the manicured jungle outskirts, its architecture a blend of Ferengi pragmatism and Earth's twentieth century art nouveau. Jean-Baptiste had wandered its upper levels earlier in the day--spa suites perfumed with oils, sun-drenched courtyards adorned with windchimes and the climbing flora one would expect so close to a rainforest. But he hadn't come to Barisa Prime to rest.
He passed through the main-level atrium, nodding politely to a Romulan woman descending the staircase in a translucent sheer robe. One of the relocated ones, he thought to himself. There were more of them here than he expected. More of everything, really. Federation uniforms moved in and out of view alongside traders, pilgrims, and opportunists.
He stepped into the bar as the lighting dimmed just enough to mark the start of the evening shift. There was a deep timbre to the place, low-set music woven with the ambient rhythm of conversation and clinking glassware. And then, seated at the end of the bar, JB caught sight of a profile he hadn't seen in person--but had studied several times back on Earth through a display in his office.
Aris Loch.
He crossed the floor, slow and deliberate, and took the open seat two stools down. Not beside. Not just yet. He flagged the bartender with a curt nod, then glanced sidelong toward Loch, letting him know he had clocked his presence.
Razella was on the casino floor and watched intently as the patrons moved about. From a distance she observed a dark-skinned human Starfleet officer gesture to the bartender. She approached after he ordered.
“Greetings,” she said. “I am called Razella. I oversee the operations of this facility. I’ve seen my share of hyoo-mons, but we rarely get Starfleet customers. Still rebuilding our reputation from the last owners, I suppose.”
Jean-Baptiste turned toward her with the composed attentiveness of someone who'd had practice concealing his discomfort behind polite formality. He offered a small smile. It was measured--neither warm nor curt.
"Lieutenant Dorsainvil," he said, placing more emphasis on name than rank. "I'm just passing through. Barisa Prime is just a stopover for me."
“Well, handsome Lieutenant, welcome to Barisa. I might suggest you make good use of your time with us. The casino and gaming center perhaps? Are you a gambling man, Mr. Dorsainvil? We have dabo, dom-jot, and Earth games such as poker and blackjack. I’m partial to blackjack myself,” Razella said as she tried to get a read on her guest.
JB let out a quiet breath through his nose, the barest suggestion of amusement. Razella was sharp--that was quite obvious.
"I gamble more with my career than with cards," he replied in a dry tone. "But I appreciate the recommendation."
His eyes moved across the bar, not lingering on Loch but registering with the man's stillness, the way he hadn't yet turned his head. Strange, that, JB hadn't expected him to look so unbothered.
"I'm more of an observer, if I'm honest. Casinos are excellent studies in behavioural psychology."
“I can understand that. Ferengi females have just recently been “allowed” to delve into business opportunities. Do you know the ninth Rule of Acquisition? Opportunity plus instinct equals profit. That’s part of why I’m out here.”
JB smiled at Razella's reference to the ninth rule. "It is a lovely planet," he admitted. "Starting a resort and casino was more than just instinct. You're definitely proving the old adage about having the lobes for business is entirely false."
He quietly and surreptitiously glanced to the other end of the bar where an attractive Andorian woman entered. Jean-Baptiste was not focused on the woman--he was attempting to catch a glimpse of what Aris was doing. It was an old trick, but sometimes effective. Unfortunately for JB, he saw nothing.
Aris had noticed Jean-Baptiste, full aware of the intelligence officer's recent fall from grace. Whether or not Aris would be able to use that to his advantage remained to be seen. He liked to collect former Starfleet officers for some his dirty work, but this one had taken an assignment on the Astrea and would likely be playing things safe for some time yet.
It was luck that Aris happened to see the former intelligence officer at this bar. He knew he'd be on planet, but it was a big planet. Aris had rather chosen the location for its discreet services, which tended to drawn in both Romulan and Vulcan customers. There was someone in particular he thought might have difficulty staying away over the next few weeks. The prospects here were too tempting.
Aris noted that the bar owner was busy talking to Jean-Baptiste and waved down another server - one he'd noticed eyeing him a few days ago and again today. He waited patiently for the owner to leave, conscientious of Ferengi ears.
Razella had excused herself to speak with another customer at the opposite end of the bar, leaving JB with a younger Ferengi bartender who quickly took his order of a double bourbon, neat. While the drink was being poured into a oversized tumbler--far bigger than he'd expected--he cast another long look over the bar's patrons. There was nothing out of the ordinary: human civilians likely on vacation at a table in the far corner, a trio of Andorians at another table in the same corner, two Ferengi patrons counting slips of latinum, a quartet of Romulans sitting silently in the opposite corner's booth, and then the Trill--Aris Loch--alone and keeping.
JB paid for the drink, leaving four slips on the bar--three for the bourbon, one as a gratuity. He picked up the tumbler and sipped. The first sip hit sharp--oak and dark smoke, a bite that didn’t flinch. Then came the warmth, spreading slow as a plasma diffuser through his chest, steadily. There was no sweetness, and no lies to it. Just the honest burn of something hiding nothing.
A thought came to Jean-Baptiste in that moment--why the dance? Why the subterfuge? In that moment, he had made up his mind.
Snatching the glass of bourbon, he hopped off the bar stool and made a beeline to the Trill now seated at the very end of the bar's counter--half-obscured by Razella's draught taps. He stopped just before Aris and narrowed his eyes, waiting for him to acknowledge his presence.
"I'd offer to buy you a drink, but you seem to have that taken care of already." Aris looked up at Baptiste. "In uniform too. Really telling Admiral Spyvee where he can shove it, aren't you?"
JB looked down at his uniform and then back up to Loch with a lopsided grin. "Your reputation is something," he said, marveling at how a former intelligence asset might recognize a field analyst. He gestured to the open bar stool. "May I?"
"Go right ahead," Aris replied. "Though, if I could offer you some friendly advice. Very little on this planet is free."
"I've come to learn that very little is free--especially in our circles."
JB plopped down on the bar stool, placing his tumbler of bourbon on the countertop with a slight clink. He took a breath and let his gaze sweep the establishment from the new vantage point--it had become clear to him now why Loch might select this position.
"You know," Jean-Baptiste began, "I've come across your file more than once. Every time, it is almost completely redacted aside from your name, your photo, and your physical description." He reached for the glass and kissed the bourbon to his lips. "And yet, you seem to know more about me--a former low-level intelligence analyst."
"That probably seems a little suspicious to you, I'd imagine," Aris replied giving Dorsainvil a wry smile. "I don't decide what's there. I just go where they tell me to."
JB grinned. "It would probably be stupid of me to ask who they are."
"More or less the same people who tell you where to go and what to do, I'd imagine." It was only a partial bluff, enough of a truth to hold up. "How are you feeling about your new assignment?"
"Honestly," Jean-Baptiste said, sounding unsure, "hopeful."
He didn't really feel like discussing his new posting to the Astrea with a stranger--especially one who seemed to know more than he should. Though, something else was nagging at him--why was Aris Loch on Barisa Prime now?
"Enough about me--why are you here?" JB tried not to sound too demanding but probably failed. "Should we be worried about the Unification Accords?"
"I'm sure you are well aware of those who don't want the Accords to happen. You don't need that information from me." Aris shrugged.
Jean-Baptiste was convinced that even if Loch knew something, he'd be loathe to share it with Starfleet types. If Loch was aware of anything serious, he'd likely go through his own channels to inform those who needed to know. Whether it be someone adjacent to Starfleet Intelligence or Section 31.
"I see," JB replied, giving his bourbon a little swirl. "These are high-stakes talks, though. Anyone with half a brain knows there are hardliners in the Romulan government who would love to see Unification fail--and some might take things into their own hands to see it end permanently."
"The problem with the Romulan government - if there ever was such a singular thing - is that even it doesn't know what it wants." Aris punctuated the statement by taking a drink. He stared for a few seconds at the amber liquid in the low ball glass before he continued.
"Both a weakness and a strength really, if you ask me," Aris continued. "Their right hand may have never known what their left hand was doing, but it made it pretty damned difficult for anyone else to figure out what they were up to either."
"Where you really need to look is at others who have similar interests. Why do yourself what you can convince others to do for you?" Aris let the question hang in the air.
JB raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. It almost felt as though Loch was being intentionally evasive while still leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow. It was certainly true: since the Hobus supernova, the Romulans had become a people scattered and divided by geography and politics. The current recognized government--the Romulan Free State--was buttressed by the Tal Shiar. Other planets in Romulan space were fighting for independence, others were too far to be of importance to the government.
"I'm talking about a people that diverged over two millenia ago coming together," JB said evenly. "You're talking about desires of the Tal Shiar."
Aris shook his head the look he gave JB could have been interpreted as pity. "If you think I'm talking about something as simple as the Tal Shiar, then you have some catching up to do before the Accords begin."
Aris took another long swig of his drink emptying the glass before placing it back down on the table. "You don't need me to spell it out for you though."
Jean-Baptiste took another drink of his bourbon. "I think maybe I might."
"Not everyone in the Federation wants to see Romulans living in harmony among the Vulcan people," Aris replied. "Not even everyone in Starfleet if you look closely enough."
Aris pushed his chair out and stood up. "You're a smart man, Lieutenant. Just keep your eyes and ears open."
Without waiting for his response, Aris turned and left the bar.
JB remained seated on the stool, finally picking up what the mysterious Trill was putting before him. As with everything he'd learned about Starfleet Intelligence, his new assignment was also showing him a world where nothing was as simple--or as black and white. He pursed his lips and stared down into his glass of bourbon. Without even finishing the drink, he motioned with two fingers to the Ferengi bartender for another.
Captain Remira Johansen (as Aris Loch)
Commanding Officer
USS Astrea
Lt. Commander Nash Winters (as Razella)
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Astrea
Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil
Assistant Chief Security Officer
USS Astrea
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