I Don't Mind a Reasonable Amount of Trouble, Part III
Posted on Tue Dec 23rd, 2025 @ 1:20pm by Ensign Garabed "Garo" Hakobyan & Ensign Tenzi Sh'reyva & Master Chief Petty Officer Vashti Rao & Petty Officer 2nd Class Zal Rixi & Crewman Emiliano Echevarria & Sub-Lieutenant Osirin Acainus & Josef Forstinger & Lieutenant JG Jason Williams III & Ensign Luciana Aguila & Petty Officer 3rd Class Dallas Reese
1,280 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Shadow in the Static
Location: Holodeck 2, Deck 4
Timeline: 1837 Hours
Ice lived in a metal well just below the bar and out of sight, next to a lower-level that had stacked shakers for mixing. A little service bell sat near an old cash register, but appeared unused and entirely forgotten.
This was old Broadway, Los Angeles: a confessional hiding in plain sight.
Garo--Frankie now--paused just inside the room. "Well," he muttered. "She's got bones."
Jason, alla Vinny, looked around, and approving smirk on his face. "Yeah, this'll do nicely.' He then looked at the people who were playing characters who we in his character's employ. "Well? Git to yer jobs! The happy hour crowd'll be in soon. We gotta make sure things is ready to go!" He moved to the back, where a single table sat in the corner. It was obviously where the big shots sat, as it was the fanciest table in the place, a secluded booth, with heavy drapes tgar could be closed, to allow for private meetings. Jason moved in and sat down. Looking at one of the waitresses, he snapped his fingers. "Hey doll-face! Gimme a mojito, toot-sweet!"
Emiliano pulled back the cuff of his suit jacket to reveal a modest-looking wristwatch. "Almost sixteen-hundred hours," he muttered. He turned back to the Osirin, who was still just at the threshold of the holodeck doors. "If we're going to look like we belong here," he said, already shifting into Hank O'Malley without really meaning to, "we shouldn't loiter like tourists." He paused and straightened his tie. "I looked up our workplace digs--Central Station's downtown. Police Administration's tied up near City Hall in this era--Los Angeles Street. That's where we need to be."
Osirin stepped fully into the holodeck proper, adjusting his costume as he did so. "How do we get there?" he asked. Walk? Take a trolley? A taxi?"
Just as the words were leaving Osirin's mouth, two cars rolled up out of the LA afternoon as though manifested by some higher power who may have been listening.
They weren't flashy, and that was entirely the point. A black Ford Super Deluxe sedan nosed in first, the paint dull like stale licorice, followed by a slightly newer Chevrolet Fleetmaster with hubcaps that had seen better days. No lights or sirens. Just engines idling.
Detective Fraser O'Shea stepped out of the Ford, tall and narrow, his hat already tilted forward as though he were afforded some different version of gravity. He had the look of a man that was shaped from bad weather: tired eyes, Irish bones, skin pulled taut against high cheekbones. A cigarette that had been lit long before it was ever thought of or needed. He was easily in his mid-forties but could have passed for someone much older.
From the Chevy came Eddie Moreno, broader, younger, sleeves already rolled up despite the heat, a jacket slung over one shoulder and a toothpick in his mouth. He shut the door with his hip and scanned the sidewalk like a patrolman might. Moreno was a little on the heavier side, his white suspenders working overtime to keep his trousers up. His thick black hair was recently coifed into something similar to a crew cut but with far too much hair product.
O'Shea clocked them immediately.
"Well, I'll be damned," he said, his voice dry and old chalk, "if it ain't Sergeant Briggs enjoying the sunshine."
Emiliano (now Hank) looked over at Osirin (now Briggs) with a questioning look.
Briggs, AKA Osirin, tugged his jacket down and nodded once. "I'm just doing my job, and it's not just admiring the blue skies.
Moreno tipped two fingers to his brow and gave a steady look to Osirin. "Afternoon, Sarge." His eyes meandered to Emiliano and stopped there a moment too long. He grinned like a cat ready to toy with a mouse. "And if it isn't the Kid. You grow overnight, or is that a new suit?"
Hank adjusted his tie without even thinking. "Afternoon, Detectives."
O'Shea flicked ash toward the curb. "Dispatch caught wind of your little field trip," he said. "The lieutenant wants to see you both. In his office." He leaned in slightly, raising his eyebrows in a quick motion. "Pronto."
Moreno nodded toward the cars. "We're headed that way anyhow. Figured we'd save everyone the shoe leather."
Hank snorted and looked over at his partner, Wally Briggs. "Figures. You don't even get one clean hour in this town." Emiliano found himself a little surprised at how his Latin accent seemed to disappear suddenly. Was this part of the program? The new immersive experience that Vashti had mentioned?
"City don't run on clean hours," O'Shea replied, turning back to the Ford. "It runs on favours and headaches."
Hank hesitated just long enough to glance at Luci--Ruthie--standing a few steps behind them, sunlight caught in her hair.
"Uh--Sarge," he said, clearing his throat. "We could give Ruthie a lift."
"We sure should, O'Malley," Osirin agreed. He turned to fully face the woman. Tipping his hat (he wasn't sure why that was a thing, but his research said it was) he said, "Would you like to come with us?"
"If it saves me walking a mile in these shoes, then yes please." Ruthie replied with a smile as she clutched her bag and moved to take a seat in the vehicle.
O'Shea pointed to the Fleetmaster as he took another long drag of his cigarette. "Sarge, you and the Kid can take the Chevy. I'll ride shotgun with Eddie"--he threw Moreno a sarcastic look--"because I'm such a nice guy."
Moreno's features softened as he feigned some version of swooning. "Oh, Fraser," he teased, a hand over his heart, "you actually letting me drive this time?"
"Shut up," O'Shea muttered, opening the passenger-side door. "Or I'll change my mind."
Moreno waved, one foot in the door of the Ford. "See you gentlemen later."
With that the two police detectives peeled out and back onto the busy street, cutting off a red Studebaker Champion, its bullet-nose narrowly missing the rear bumper of the Super Deluxe.
Master Chief Petty Officer Vashti Rao
Acting Chief Engineering Officer
USS Astrea
Sub-Lieutenant Osirin Acainus
Mission Advisor
USS Astrea
Lieutenant Junior Grade Jason Williams III
Squadron Leader
USS Astrea
Ensign Luciana Aguila
Structural/Environmental Specialist
USS Astrea
Ensign Tenzi Sh'reyva
Engineering Officer
USS Astrea
Ensign Garabed "Garo" Hakobyan
Transporter Specialist
USS Astrea
Petty Officer 2nd Class Zal Rixi
Engineering Technician
USS Astrea
Petty Officer 3rd Class Dallas Reese
Slipstream Specialist
USS Astrea
Crewman Emiliano Echevarria
Operations Technician
USS Astrea
Josef Forstinger
Civilian
USS Astrea
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