JP: PNPC Lt. Dukul Nibar & PNPC Lt. JG Jack Morrow — Professional Support

[Karrod Niac]

NPC's make up the backbone of our supporting cast of characters and it's a true joy when two of the, both from the rarely explored Starfleet JAG corp, get together and produce something delightfully unique.  Incredible stuff from @Marty Tucker & @Nolen Hobart!

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((Interior, Sickbay, Habitat Module, Deep Space 33, the Alpha Isles))

On a frontier starbase, a Starfleet judge advocate officer had to wear many hats, and often found themselves visiting strange places in strange capacities. Just as frequently, they found themselves visiting familiar places but wearing a variety of hats. Some days, a visit to sickbay might be for the purpose of taking testimony from a victim. Others, a toxicology report, or securing some other kind of expertise of one of the station's doctors. On the worst days, he called upon a coroner.

But this was none of those days. Today, Lieutenant Dukul Nibar, the six-foot-something Cardassian whose demeanor oscillated between “gruff” and “sarcastic” with an alarming frequency, was there in his capacity as colleague and friend. At a frontier posting, politics and history didn't last long in the face of duty and camaraderie, and whatever roadbumps he'd encountered as a newly-assigned Lieutenant Junior Grade had been worn down by the banality of day-to-day obligations. And Jack Morrow had been a part of that, before he'd been transferred to the Ronin.

Nibar: ::quiet, condescending:: Jackie, you've got it all backward again.

Jack was taken aback by the unexpected sight of the large Cardassian; he hadn’t anticipated any visitors. A part of him wanted to dismiss Nibar so he could wallow in his misery. He was currently reliant on a wheelchair, as his prosthetic wouldn’t be ready for a few days, leaving him to endure some wheelchair jokes.

Morrow: ::eyebrow raised:: How so? 

Dukul waved a pale hand at the stump that used to be Morrow’s leg, and flexed a scaly brow.

Nibar: When they say a good lawyer will cost an arm and a leg, they're talking about the client's.

Jack put his face in his palm. Cardassians weren’t known for their sense of humor, and now he knew why. It’s probably why you don’t see many Cardassians doing stand-up comedy.

Morrow: ::he smirked:: Hardy, har, har….Did you pay a Ferengi for that joke? Because I think you’ve been robbed.

Jack shifted in his bed slightly; he couldn’t get over the fact that it felt like his leg was still there. Doctor Beck said this would probably happen, and it would happen for a while. Jack thought it was downright creepy. 

A part of him wanted to just curl up in a ball and shut out the world, but the more dominant part of his brain was waging war against depression and anxiety.  And if he was honest with himself, the depression and anxiety were winning in spades.

Nibar: ::wry smile:: Bulk discount. You don't want to hear the others.

Dukul thought it was a pretty good joke, all things considered. But, then, he still had both his legs. His smile faded as he looked the man over. Something was missing beyond his limb.

Morrow: ::forcing a smile::  I bet.

Dukul snapped his fingers in realization. He had not come empty handed, but he'd been advised to hold off on bringing it in by the attendant at the front desk. There were ways to deal with a traumatized patient, and his gift, they said, was not a recommended one. But they didn't know Morrow that way. Didn't know lawyers. Booze was always the recommended gift.

Nibar: Hold that thought. Got something for you.

Morrow: Something for me? You shouldn’t have…

Jack was now curious to know what Dukul had given him; what do you get for a guy who had just lost a limb? 

The JAG stepped away from Morrow’s biobed, and spied the bottle and glasses he'd stashed with a PADD under a waiting room chair. Before any of the administrative staff could object, he made for the pile and, in half as many strides, made his way back.

Nibar: ::setting the glasses down, examining the label:: “Kentucky” Bourbon has to come from Kentucky, right? This comes from the moon. Legend has it that some two hundred years ago, some fool gifted an acre on the moon to the local government in Lexington. Deed’s still there, symbolic, and now they brew this: “Moonshine.” Name’s confusing as hell, but there you go.

He handed the bottle over to Jack for his approval, like a waiter in some high class restaurant. The Cardassian hadn't been to his hometown on Earth in years, but his rarely-mentioned mother was adept at procuring curiosities from the Sol system. And Dukul figured Jack could use the spirits.

Jack took the bottle to look it over; he was pretty knowledgeable about bourbon, a connoisseur. And in all his years collecting, he’d heard about this - but to this point in his life had never come across being a 200-plus-year-old bourbon didn’t come cheap either.

Morrow: Holy crap man, this is rare of the rare, do you know how rare this stuff is?

He ran his hand over the label, feeling the raised letters that read Moonshine. He waggled his eyebrows at Nibar and twisted open the bottle. He ran the bottle underneath his nose taking in the surprisingly oaky brew, with a hint of, something that Morrow couldn’t put his finger on.

Morrow: Do I want to know how you came across such a find?

He was sure the Cardassian would play it close to his vest. He only wanted to know so he could seek it out in the future, and from what he heard, the Chief Engineer of the Ronin was good at redistributing goods; at least, that was the rumor. It pays to keep your ear to the ground, and no one pays attention to the lawyer.

By intentional strategy (and natural survival instinct) Lieutenant Nibar had rarely mentioned his mother. Not to Morrow, nor to anyone else. He’d alluded from time to time that she existed, as she must have for him to have been born, but beyond that he had very little to say about the woman who left Cardassia in the first war against the Federation. She was crafty, and if he ever was caught talking about it, any number of ears might catch wind of it, and anyone from Starfleet Intelligence to the Obsidian Order remnants, to his mother herself would learn of his loose lips, and trouble would surely follow.

Nibar: I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill myself. ::wink::

oO Yup, Cagey. Oo

Morrow: I feel like I should have gotten you a bottle of Kanar. ::he smiled::

Jack noticed the two glasses and poured two fingers of bourbon into each. Morrow swirled the whiskey in the glass, taking in its amber color. He lifted the glass to his nose, taking in the hints of moss, vanilla, and spicy cinnamon.

Dukul picked up the small glass and held it up to look at. He was gracious that Morrow chose to share his first pour, though in hindsight the glasses made it something of a faux pas to do anything but.

Nibar: Truth be told, I don’t think anyone does anything more than tolerate kanar. ::beat:: There are few places in the galaxy where you can drink yourself sillier than on Earth.

Jack raised his glass and clinked it against Nibar’s. He first put it to his nose to take in the earthy scents, even though it was made on the moon. He then took a gentle sip, enjoying the caramel color liquid as it slid down his throat with a slight burn.

Morrow:::smiling over the rim of the glass:: This is smooth. I like it. Thank you, Dukul.

Nibar nodded, and pulled from his own glass.

What Jack needed to do, was get out of the infirmary; he’d wheel his arse all over the station if that meant getting out of his bed and ditching the doctors. Right now he was still waiting on his prosthetic leg, top of the line from what he heard, it's great the information you can get when you’re not asleep, yet they think you are. 

Nibar: Yeah, not bad.

It felt good to see Morrow perk up. Even though he'd transferred away, once he was given supervision over the entire JAG office on DS33, the Lieutenant felt a sort of responsibility over all the Starfleet lawyers in the Alpha Isles. He weighed the half-empty glass in his fingers.

Jack smiled at the Cardassian. It was good to see a familiar face. He was still getting used to the crew he worked alongside on the Ronin and hadn’t met anyone yet unless you count the XO, Rox, and Doctor Beck. 

Morrow: I need to get out of this dump; find me a wheelchair if you would please. ::he smiled::

He tipped back the last of the bourbon in his glass and set it down next to the bottle.

Nibar: The station’s about the same as you saw it last, Jack. You that desperate for a change of scenery?

It was true Jack needed out of the bio-bed and quick, he was going to go crazy just sitting on his arse all day until they presented him with his new leg, and he had honestly thought about a Klingon one, as that was Rox’s suggestion.

Morrow: I was thinking about a Klingon leg, whatcha’ think?

Nibar: ::taken aback:: I think you’d have a hell of a time taking one off a Klingon in your current state.

Jack laughed, and it felt good.

Morrow: Touche’

Nibar: You know, rumor has it that the CMO on Arrow was a crackpot about prosthetic limbs. I think she got transferred to the Khitomer. Might be worth a trip.

Morrow: Anything to get back on my feet, I’ll have to reach out to her and see if she’s available to take a look and see what she can do if she’s as good as you say.

 

He’d take a W any way he could. Jack wasn’t the type to just sit by. He wanted to be working, not wasting time sitting on a bio-bed, especially on DS33. He wanted, not needed to get back to work, he was still looking up the Ronin’s last mission taking on the Tholians and the fact the Ronin had kept one on board this entire time and escaped his confines during the attack from Wrath and the Consortium.

Dukul nodded and swept his reptilian gaze around the room until he spied a collapsible hover chair tucked into a corner. It looked disused, and if it had been anywhere else but Sickbay, he imagined it would have had a full centimeter-thick layer of dust.

Nibar: ::fetching the chair:: You know, this wasn't entirely a personal visit. Got a puzzle at the office, and I thought maybe you could use the work.

Jack watched as the large Cardassian looked around for an anti-grav chair. 

Morrow: Anything to kill the boredom. Like I said, I need out of here and soon. So sterile and sickbay has always given me the hibbejibbies. ::he shuttered::

Nibar crouched and searched for the interface on the large, white device that would open it up and engage the anti-gravity repulsors. After a solid ninety curse-muttered seconds, he found it. A chime announced the activation, and he stepped back to marvel.

Nibar: Ain't that a thing.

Morrow: ::Lacing his fingers behind his head:: Ya know, my niece could’ve done that in a fraction of the time it took you to figure the contraption out. And she’s five. ::he laughed.:: 

The Cardassian grabbed the grips at the top of the seat back and maneuvered the empty chair next to Morrow’s biobed. He thought of offering to help but imagined it might be a smidge insulting.

Jack stared at the chair for a minute. He wasn’t waiting for help, instead contemplating that until he got his new leg, he would be stuck in one of these monstrosities. But it was it was, and using his arms, he picked himself up and slid over to the chair. It took a couple of seconds of Jack fidgeting to get comfortable.

Nibar: Grab that PADD, and let's blow this popsicle stand.

Jack grabbed the padd he’d had been looking at it and placed it on his lap. He looked over the small LCARS display and accessed the controls. He took a second to familiarize himself with the controls, and once satisfied, he moved the chair forward.

Morrow: ::looking over his shoulder at Nibar:: Do, try to keep up.::he grinned::

The chair lurched forward a bit too much, almost sliding Jack out of the chain and onto the ground in front of him, and that would be very embarrassing. 

Dukul stood rod straight and folded his arms, bemused. He was sure Jack would get the hang of it, but he hoped the man wouldn’t have to. He’d seen limbs regrown, but that was when there was something to build off of. For Jack, it’d have to be a prosthetic, but he knew fitment and fabrication didn’t take that long. Or, rather, the optimist in him insisted it wouldn’t.

Nibar: Easy, there, Seabiscuit.

Morrow:  Alright, let's try that again. ::a waggle of eyebrows:: And get out of here before anyone notices. ::devilish grin::

This time, Jack was slightly more gentle on the controls, and the chair moved forward. They made for the exit, Jack looking to see if any nurses were paying attention and how much trouble he would be in for leaving without permission.

Nibar: Don’t worry, I bribed the guards. ::wink:: There’s a shift change in five minutes, and that’s our chance. It’s two hours to the border, and then we’re free.

They continued out of sickbay and into the small crowd of people milling about. Most gave Jack a wide berth with the chair, and some gave him looks. It wasn’t helping in his trying to ignore the stump, and move forward. There was nothing he could do now; what’s done is done. But the thought of talking to that Doctor on the Khitomer was something he couldn’t wait to do, but first, it seemed Dukul had something in mind.

Morrow: So, do you care to share this with the class?

Jack looked up at the Cardassian, who looked like whatever it was; he was playing it close to the vest, which was a Cardassian trademark.

Dukul took a deep breath. What he had wasn’t solid, but it was troubling in the “something doesn’t seem quite right here” sort of way that a series of innocent coincidences might add up to something sinister-looking, if one squinted.

NIbar: Second file on that PADD. ::waiting for Jack to review, walking slower:: Khitomer transferred the prisoners it brought back, the folks who stole the Arrow. I was chasing down how they came to be on Deep Space 33. In the lead-up to Frontier Day, with reduced resources here on the station, Serinus wanted to run background checks on all new transferees, which these guys posed as.

Morrow: Yeah, you have to run background; it’s SOP. 

Nibar: That’s the thing, he didn’t run the check on these people at all. Or, rather, he couldn’t.

Dukul stopped in the nearly empty corridor. He looked this way and that. Cardassians were infamous for being conspiratorially-minded, a trait which Nibar might have taken as a racist insult if the good reasons for it weren’t so numerous. Even though he’d grown up on Earth and hadn’t set a single foot on his ancestral planet, something felt wrong here. He was glad to have someone he could trust to discuss it with, someone as sharp as Jack Morrow.

He scanned through the PADD; things weren’t adding up; there was a set procedure for taking prisoners, and protocols dictated having to run background checks on everyone. It was simply what you did; the fact he didn't, or rather couldn't, could indicate outside influence, but maybe it was just glossed over, maybe deleted by mistake? Unlikely, but the question had to be asked.

Morrow: ::scratching his wild hair:: Maybe they just glossed over them or already had them on file, so they didn’t need to be run again? It’s the break in protocol that bugs me.

Nibar: No, not clean. Not inconclusive. Outright refused. Declined. “Return to Sender” kind of thing. He was in the middle of drafting a second request when they up and stole the Arrow. And from the sounds of it? They were aiming to spark a war.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and Jupiter's finger. 

Morrow: Like the Alliance needed to be prodded into war, they already declared in the Isles. And the last I checked, there are only two ships in this region, the Khitomer, and the Ronin, who will not participate in Frontier days; we’re running shotgun.

Jack looked at the PADD swiped a few times, and looked back up at the large Cardassian. 

Morrow: Could this be related to that? Have you run this up the chain yet?

Nibar: Up the chain to who? The stop order came from the chain. 

Morrow: ::sighing::Figures, you butter me up with rare bourbon and know it seems we’re hip deep into something. We’re just JAGS. Shouldn’t we pass this off to Starfleet Intelligence?

This could swiftly go above their pay grades combined. It was still baffling to Jack that he was refused when checking on the prisoners' identities. Dukul was right; there was something rotten in Denmark.

For his part, Dukul wondered how to respond to the question. He hadn't. And he wasn't sure if he should have. The Centauran might have a perspective to add to this, as the Cardassian was

NIbar: ::hushed tones:: Who's to say it's not Intelligence, too?

Morrow: ::nodding in agreement:: Good call. You’re probably right.

Nibar: I don't know what to do, Jack. Am I crazy? This seems too much for a coincidence, doesn't it?

Jack furrowed his brow and then looked up at his Cardassian colleague.

Morrow: First off no, you’re not and second there’s no such thing as a coincidence.

Nibar smiled thinly. They were just a pair of low-ranking JAGs, but they were kind of out there on their own, together. There weren't large staffs, even before three quarters of the station’s personnel vacated for Frontier Day. If they didn’t dig into this, it might go unnoticed. Nibar tried not to show his worry, as the thought that this might have been intentional crossed his conspiratorial mind, too.

Nibar: Don't worry about it too much. I'll chase it down. If you know anybody in Intel you trust for sure, send me their info and I'll talk to them.

Morrow: Intel and trust in the same sentence; I’d rather turn my back on a rabid Targ than trust the people in Intel. So, no, I don’t have inroads there, unfortunately. 

Smiling more broadly, Dukul looked down the corridor. The docking arm connected to Khitomer would be just two sections down, and Ronin back the other direction.

They reached the junction of either heading back to the Ronin or going to the Khitomer and talking with Doctor Ohnari about a new leg. He didn’t really want to burden either doctor aboard the Ronin; this is just something that he needed to do for himself, and Dukul had supplied him with a great reference. 

Nibar: Go on ahead, Khitomer’s just that way. I'll go back and get your bourbon sent to your quarters.

He smiled up at the large Cardassian. Jack's thoughts were a jumble of the data the Dukul had given him and the promise of replacing his left leg. The day was filled with possibilities. 

Morrow: I appreciate it Dukul. That was some top shelf hooch. 

Nibar: Keep the PADD. Let me know if you see anything interesting. Oh and remember!

Morrow: When I return to the Ronin, I will send you some files we got from the Consortium. If you know what I mean, they might pique your interest. 

Nibar: The client’s leg, man.

Morrow: Uhh…Sure?

With that swimming in his head, he made his way to the Khitomer and Doctor Ohnari, who had no clue a strange officer from another ship was showing up on her doorstep without advanced knowledge. He sighed as he propelled the chair forward towards the Khitomer. 

With a wink, Dukul took off back towards the station’s sickbay. He didn't know if the puzzle would help keep Morrow in good spirits. But the man was sharp, and a second set of eyes would be welcome. If there was a conspiracy to steal the Arrow that reached to active Starfleet personnel, it would be hard to track down and prove. Together they might be able to get enough documentation to build a case. Lt. Nibar just worried there wasn't going to be a second attempt. Or worse, that they'd accomplished whatever it was they wanted in the first.

NT/End

———

Lieutenant Dukul Nibar

Judge Advocate Officer

Deep Space 33 

Written by

Lt. Commander Nolen Hobart

Executive Officer 

USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)

A240001NH3 

And

Lt. JG Jack Morrow

JAG

USS Ronin - NCC-34523

D240008MT1

Simmed by:

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Lt. JG Marty Tucker

Chief Of Engineering

USS Ronin NCC-34523

Capt. Karrod Niac Commanding

D240008MT1