Doz "Gramma" Finch - The Olive Branch

[Bryce Tagren-Quinn]

@Doz Finch, it has been a treat to read your work and to see the Skarbek version of Doz. From her thought processes, to seeing the world through her eyes (and wanting that shuttle! - "she had her own reasons for wanting access to an enemy-owned shuttle" - and phantoms from the past), and the descriptions; it all is so elegantly, and artfully written. ❤️

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((Barn, Farmlands, Outskirts, Witherington, Indre III))

 

 

Finch had made a clear-cut suggestion. She didn’t favour the idea of escorting the injured out of a marketplace surrounded by marching troops, and she also didn’t relish the idea of breaking into a warehouse surrounded by just the same. So she had offered them a halfway plan, which was more of her breath and brain than anyone deserved.

 

 

If they could have ambushed a landing point near the warehouse, taking out a guard or two, followed by a lonesome pilot, they could have ended up with a cargo full of supplies and a shuttle approved for flight in Cardassian airspace. Of course, it wasn’t really Cardassian airspace, and even the idea of thinking of it as such made bits of her skin give way to varicose veins, as purplish as plums.

 

 

But it wasn’t completely for the mission—she had her own reasons for wanting access to an enemy-owned shuttle. She was resourceful, and one never knew when they would need a sudden escape route, with adversaries on every street, in every window, buried in every shadowy corner. Some nameless, some new, some old…

 

 

… like Norström.

 

 

Tahna: And what do you propose we do with this shuttle when we get it? 

 

 

Finch: ::toneless:: Make good use of it, is what I propose. ::looking between them:: A registered vehicle with full access to their airspace, there's a lot can be done with that. At worst they would radio us, and I’ll bet they don’t know their arses from their elbows when it comes to who’s voice is who’s.

 

 

Tahna: They’ll know we took it, it’s not exactly a low-profile target. Every Spoon in the city will be on the lookout, ready to shoot down any shuttle they don’t like the look of. We don’t have a safe place to park it, it will probably lead to increased retaliation against civilians, maybe against our folks too if they figure it’s more than local involvement. 

 

 

Imul: Even if you find a place to hide the vessel, you would also have to disable its tracking system.

 

 

Her top lip quivered irritably, the almost translucent hairs upon it upright with a vigor. The girl and the disputatious colonists wanted to stay on foot, and couldn’t see the reaches of what was possible if they secured one of the enemy's shuttles.

 

 

It seemed cowardly. But then everything seemed that way after a stint in Vrekil. It was in the miniscule facial expressions of every person she had the misfortune of meeting; slight and yet distinct slivers of emotion, like the undulation of an eye pupil, a bead of sweat falling down a person's face, the standing of pinprick hairs on a person's arms, and the inflation of pimples beneath them as their fears kicked in. It was in the words people used, the galling need to tip-toe around what they really wanted to say instead of just saying it. In her mind, a stab in the front was superior to a stab in the back.

 

 

But how was she any different? Inconspicuously gathering resources in case they, or more importantly she, needed to suddenly launch an escape instead of dealing with the problem head on. The thought liquidized in her mind, wetting every memory, every idea, every connecting synapse, filling her with a depth of unease that she hadn’t felt since the moment she stepped foot on the vessel that took her away from Vrekil.

 

 

It was jarring, to feel no safer outside of Vrekil than inside of it. Few people ever left the place—and maybe they were better off.

 

 

Tahna: Imul’s right, we should wait till the end of the shift. Strike when they’re drunk and tired. We can scout out a landing point first, like Gramma suggested, see if they’ve left any shipments out. As for sniping guards…

 

 

Tahna made eye contact with Rhita.

 

 

Rhita: We don’t have weapons like that. We’re farmers, just trying to get our land back. 

 

 

Imul: We need to create a small diversion, drive them away from the location.

 

 

She couldn’t deny Lark’s aptitude for making hard decisions. The girl had something of a complicated but nimble mind, tightly wrapped in her brown plumage of hair, every bit deserving of the nickname. But a bird who preferred to keep her wings close to her chest, and her feet on the ground, was either a smart bird indeed, or one who’s own fears were getting in the way.

 

 

She looked at her for a moment in thought. The chasms of her heavy face hanging in the air like a melted candle, as if it thawed, made just visible by a bit of light cast upon it by the lamp on the middle-table.

 

 

Finch: We’ll get your land back. ::turning back to Rhita:: Imul is right. We start with a small diversion.

 

 

She eyed the dog through her almond-shaped eyes, her expression almost apathetic. Imul petted it while sitting upon an upturned crate.

 

 

Imul: How to distract a Cardassian? And do we have the means to do so?

 

 

Finch: Mm. ::she stared::

 

 

Imul was avoiding mention of using the dog, trying to deter Finch away again from her idea to use it as a distraction, albeit more subtly than he did with his carjacking repudiation.

 

 

Tahna/Rhita: Response

 

 

Imul: A few bottles of liquor could work. ::He stood up, snapping his fingers as he did.:: Give them the promise of a hidden stack of bottles somewhere or even food. Someone leads them to said place, away from the warehouse, while another group steals the provisions behind their back.

 

 

Finch: Few men can turn down a good drink. What sorts have you got in here? ::she looked about the barn through narrowed eyes::

 

 

Tahna/Rhita: Response

 

 

Imul: The first person either drinks them to the ground. If they’re already wasted, it shouldn’t be that much of a problem. Or… they lock up the Cardassians, by accident, of course.

 

 

Finch: More detail than that Mister Imul. Lock them up where?

 

 

She turned back to Imul, her brown beady eyes boring into him. If they weren’t going to take the shuttle, then the other plan needed to be foolproof. She wasn’t about to throw herself upon a guarded warehouse on the whim of a local colonist, even if he had been right about the barn.

 

 

Tahna/Rhita/Imul: Response

 

 

Finch: … What sort of weapons do you have here? Bajoran firearms, disrupters, Spoonhead rifles? And ammo, where are you keeping it, and can it be carried in packs?

 

 

Finch inched closer to the map, and poked at it with a gnarled index finger.

 

 

Finch: We’ll be wanting checkpoints along the way, someone at a vantage point, and more than one means of entry. If it's fenced in, we’ll have to dig our way underneath. ::she looked at the dog again:: a job for the mongrel perhaps.

 

 

It was a splinter of humanity—an olive branch to Imul. If taking the shuttle was out of the equation, and sending the dog in also ruled out, then she had no choice but to work with them, and help them reach the fullest fruits of the plan.

 

 

But first, they needed to get the lay of the land.

 

 

Tahna/Rhita/Imul: Response

 

 

--

 

Doz Finch, "Gramma"

Fixer

Skarbek

 

As simmed by,

 

Ensign Doz Finch

Engineering Officer

USS Gorkon

C239809SH3

 

Edited March 19, 2023 by Bryce Tagren-Quinn

[Doz Finch]

Aww cheers Bryce! Writing for the Skarbek version of my character has been a surprisingly challenging experience. Especially considering how different prime Doz is compared with this one.

 

Thank you as always for the kindness, and it will be interesting to see how the dynamic between these characters progresses in the coming weeks!

[Nestira Aristren]

This is awesome! Well done!!