"Deadly Negotiations" by Lady Rainbow Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em. Wish I did Notes: This immediately follows the events in “Boomer Bust”. Read that fic first to understand what’s going on. Travis is heading a Starfleet delegation to strengthen negotiations with the Boomers and the Trading Consortiums of the Earth colonies. If McKenzie sounds familiar...she was present/mentioned in 3 episodes, “Anomaly” “E2" and “Countdown”. In fact, in E2, she and Travis were supposed to get married in that alternate timeline. One Shuttlepod One angled on its landing approach to Cochrane’s Commons. Alpha Centauri’s most exclusive set of businesses and residences occupied a huge swath of property along the northern temperate zone. Like all the other settlements on Centauri, a huge transparent dome covered it, shielding the inhabitants from the rigors of space. “Pity they’ve blocked the best views of space. They don’t know what they’re missing.” Lieutenant Travis Mayweather spared a glance over his shoulder at the speaker. “Yeah, I guess they weren’t kidding when they wanted this place to be exclusive, Malcolm.” Lieutenant Commander Malcolm Reed sighed and shook his head. “I can understand it from a security standpoint, but, still, it’s a pity.” For the first time on this trip, Crewman Philippe Trieste spoke up, his French accent heavier than usual. “The commander is correct, though. The ones who live here prefer their security and their privacy more than their views.” Travis gave him a sympathetic look. Philippe had grown up here, in Cochrane’s Commons, the only son of a Centaurian shipping magnate, Estelle de Montclaire Limited. The only son and now its only heir. Travis and Malcolm were assigned to escort him home to settle his affairs, but the trip had become more complicated than anyone expected. The helmsman sighed and turned back to his instruments. He wasn’t looking forward to this meeting with Phillipe’s uncle, Guillem Montclaire. The man had tried to kidnap Philippe and Malcolm and hired Orions to do it. Of course, there was no viable proof to show he was behind the kidnapping, although Travis knew otherwise. We aren’t taking any chances. Guillem Montclaire is a dangerous man. Both Malcolm and Captain Archer insisted on a security detail on this mission. Travis had been surprised at the armory officer’s choices of escort. He caught Captain Fiona McKenzie’s glance at her fellow MACO. MacKenzie had taken over the unit after Major Hayes’s death; Travis had no idea that her men were anywhere close to Centauri, but obviously, Malcolm had called some favors. A blinking light on the communications panel interrupted Travis’s train of thought. “EdML is hailing us,” Malcolm reported. “Priority Two secured frequency.” “Answer it,” Travis replied. Although Malcolm technically outranked him, Travis’s new position as Starfleet negotiator put him in charge of this mission. He winced inwardly as he remembered how he’d “earned” that position. Admiral Forrest owes me big time for this one. A face appeared on the screen. The man’s blond hair curled at his shoulders, framing a triangular-shaped face with large aqua eyes. He had a narrow nose and thin lips, high cheekbones and a slight cleft in his chin. Travis saw the strong family resemblance between uncle and nephew. “Lieutenant Mayweather, I presume,” Guillem Montclaire said with a slight smile. “I trust your journey to Alpha Centauri had been eventful?” “You might say that,” Travis replied, keeping the irony out of his voice. “I am grateful that you have brought my nephew home at last. We have much to discuss concerning the family business. Let me be the first to welcome you to Bellevue. Any friend of Philippe’s is a friend of mine and anything you need will be met.” “Merci beaucoup, Monsieur,” Travis said. “Ah, you speak French, Monsieur Mayweather?” “Not well, unfortunately, but I’m learning. Your nephew had been instrumental in correcting that lack.” “Good. I look forward to meeting you and Lieutenant Commander Reed. Please tell the commander that his illustrious reputation precedes him, and that my security chief is eager to discuss security and tactical matters with him. One can never be too careful, n’cest-ce pas?” Travis only inclined his head in reply. The fake hospitality made him want to take a shower, it was so sweet. “Of course, Monsieur Montclaire. I’ll be sure to tell the commander.” “A bientôt, Monsieur. Montclaire, finis.” His image winked out, leaving the EdML logo of an angel carrying a flaming torch, surrounded by thirteen stars. “That was bloody interesting,” Malcolm commented with a scowl. “He didn’t even want to talk to Philippe, even though he knew Philippe was here.” Philippe’s tone was carefully controlled. “He’s saving the grand welcome until we land at Bellevue, where everyone can see it. I’m betting he’s having this meeting beamed to every EdML installation in the system.” “Then we’ll give them a good show, won’t we,” Malcolm said with a humorless smile. “Yes, we will,” Travis said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw McKenzie’s stoic expression, but her eyes reflected the same kind of worry he had. Protecting Philippe was the important thing; Guillem’s grandstanding be damned. Bellevue, the Montclaire’s estate, had its own landing strip and spaceport. Travis followed the clear sign markers to the runway and landed Shuttlepod One with hardly a bump. Before he cut the engines, he heard a muttered oath from Malcolm. “What’s wrong?” “He’s got a whole caravan of hangers-on waiting for us, Travis, and the entire perimeter is ringed with guards. I don’t like the look of it at all.” “Not many escape routes in case we need to run for it,” McKenzie added. “We’re pretty much hemmed in.” “Damn.” Travis muttered under his breath. “Philippe?” Philippe only nodded to himself. “The usual homecoming, it seems. I don’t think my uncle would try anything here; his image is too important. Now, when we get to Bellevue...that’s when I’d worry, Lieutenant Commander, Captain.” “All right, then. Let’s put on that show,” Travis said, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. “Lady and gentlemen?” MacKenzie nodded to her fellow MACOs and they lined up as Malcolm unlocked the shuttle hatch. Travis squared his shoulders and exchanged a smile with Philippe. Together they stepped out into the bright Centaurian morning. “Âllo, Philippe. Comment ça va?” heasked. Hello, Philippe, how are you? Philippe only raised an eyebrow at his uncle. “TrPs bien, Oncle. Et vous?” They exchanged formal greetings in French. Travis was soon lost in the rapid-fire chatter, but he watched both men dance around each other, like two combatants in the arena. Neither trusted the other, and judging from Guillem’s expression, this was a more complicated conversation than it seemed. Malcolm followed it with a hint of interest, his face an implacable mask, but Travis knew that he understood every word. I wonder if Guillem knows that, Travis wondered, that Malcolm can understand what he’s saying to Philippe. Damn, I knew I should’ve attended more French Hour meetings with Hoshi. Finally, Philippe and Guillem exchanged traditional kisses on each cheek, and Guillem put an arm around Philippe’s shoulders. Malcolm, McKenzie and the MACOs tensed at the gesture; Guillem’s smile was wry as he released hold of his nephew. “Lieutenant Mayweather, Lieutenant Commander Reed, an honor and a pleasure to finally meet you both. I am certain that we have much to discuss, and not only about Philippe’s installment as head of EdML.” Guillem extended a hand to Travis, who shook it, then to Malcolm, who did the same. Then he indicated the clutch of “hangers-on”, as Malcolm had aptly termed them. “My executive board...” As Guillem made the introductions, Travis plastered the smile on his face. Each man gave him a cool nod as he was acknowledged. None of them seemed enthusiastic about Philippe’s arrival; in fact, the majority of them were downright sullen. Travis doubted he would find any allies here. “Shall we proceed to Bellevue? I understand the household has prepared a feast in your honor, Nephew, and yours, Monsieur Mayweather. Please, this way.” Travis nodded and the whole group followed Guillem and Philippe. Philippe looked as tense as a harpstring ready to snap. He gave Travis a hooded look as they went through the terminal and its myriad security stations and cameras. Guillem glanced over his shoulder and directed a question to Malcolm, who only responded with a predatory smile. “What’d he say?” Travis whispered. “‘You don’t trust me, do you?’” Philippe whispered. Malcolm’s reply needed no translation. “No, Monsieur.” Continue to Part 2

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