West led the way farther into Lake Town, away from the spaceport, into what increasingly looked the seedier side of town. If there had been train tracks here, they'd be on the wrong side of them by now. Correctly interpreting the expression on Carter's face, he commented, "You didn't think an interstellar gang of criminals would set up their secret hideout right in the middle of the tourist sector, did you?"
Carter suddenly realized that she didn't really know what she had been expecting.
"But I'm glad you decided to trust me," he said with another of his trademark lopsided smiles.
"I wouldn't go that far," countered Carter, "but I didn't see how I had much choice."
West accepted her answer without further debate. Motioning that he wanted to relieve Carter of her duffel bag, he said, "Let me give you a hand there," but she waved off his attempted chivalry and instead shrugged the luggage strap higher up on her shoulder.
"I've got it," she replied brusquely and continued walking. West just smiled and followed. "You're going to be an interesting traveling companion," he said.
"We're not traveling" anywhere, bub," corrected Carter. "We're going to go in, get Sam, and get out. Clear? So don't get any funny ideas." West smiled again and kept walking, keeping any further opinions on the matter to himself.
After another ten minutes of walking, West finally stopped in front of a dilapidated old hotel. "Here we are," he proclaimed.
"Where?"
"Our flop for the night," he replied cheerfully, clearly relishing the horrified expression on Carter's face.
Carter was agape. The 'building' before them could barely be described as such. Most of the aluminum awning that had once stretched across the front was lying in a tangled and rusted heap off to the left, simply abandoned where it had fallen years ago. Several of the windows on the first floor were boarded up; whether because the glass panes were broken or for some other reason was not evident, while the windows decorating the upper story fared hardly better. Some of those still had their glass intact, while others were dark, yawning cavities. The right corner of the upper floor looked like it had been shot off by high explosives in the not-too-distant past, black scorch marks still visible across the decaying paint job, exposing the interior of the guest room there to the elements. The blasted remains of a bed frame and armoire could be seen inside leaning crazily against each other, crowded against the far inner wall, while severed pipes from the room's obliterated toilet facilities dangled askew and dripped onto the street below not far from Carter's feet.
While the Starfleet Commander looked on in dismay, West proceeded to enter the edifice through the oddly-skewed front doorway. She, however, resolutely refused to step foot in such a disreputable-looking establishment, and planted her feet firmly on the dusty ground. She counted slowly to ten, but when West didn't emerge again by that time, Carter was forced to go in after him. Swearing under her breath, she braved the rickety boardwalk fronting the building and passed through the swinging half-door that would have been more appropriate in Earth's Ancient West than a modern Federation colony.
She found West standing at the front desk in the spacious hotel lobby signing the guest register. Behind the counter, a stocky middle-aged man wearing a red fez on his head had his back turned to West, and was busy scanning a pigeon-holed wall looking for West's room keycard.
Carter's Starfleet training was in full operation now; she gave the room a quick once-over and determined there were no immediate threats -- at least not to body. Threats to the well-being of a person's will to live were overabundant however. Where the furniture had obviously once been exquisite and the envy of high society, that had been a long time ago. Today it was just shabby. Countless buttocks had worn away the fabric of the chair and sofa seats, leaving them shiny and threadbare, and the coffee and end tables were dinged and notched with a myriad deep marks. Any curtains and other finery that once might have graced this room was long gone, having been replaced by wooden shutters covering the windows (those that weren't broken and boarded up), and tacky beadwork curtains framing doorways. The chandelier that had probably once hung suspended from the vaulted ceiling had been replaced by an old glowglobe attached to a bare wire, and the grand staircase that wound up one wall was no longer quite so grand looking and sagged in the middle like an old horse's back.
One fixture that was well-maintained, however, was the enormous mirror that depended from the ceiling along the wall behind the front desk. It was framed in lustrous, cherry-colored wood, intricately carved in bass-relief serpents, undoubtedly the ubiquitous Ogopogo, and harpoon-wielding hunters. Unlike all the rest of its kin in the room, the frame was quite obviously lovingly dusted and polished regularly, as was the mirror it embraced.
Catching her reflection in the big mirror, West saw Carter approach. He set down the old-fashioned pen he'd been using to enter his name in the register and turned to face her. "We're signed in," he announced.
"'We'?" asked Carter. "Don't I have to sign in too?"
"Nope," smiled West roguishly. "Mister and Missus 'Smith'," he explained innocently, pointing first to himself then at her, all the while wagging his eyebrows suggestively.
"Dream on, chump!"
But West wasn't listening. He was already trekking up the long flight of stairs towards their room. Carter sputtered futility at his audacity, but had no recourse but to follow. She renewed her grip on her duffel and trudged after him.
Down a short hallway, West paused at a doorway and checked the number scratched on the door to the one on his keycard. Satisfied, he turned the handle and walked in. "Ahh... The honeymoon suite," he proclaimed in satisfaction, and proceeded to make himself at home on the bed.
Carter stood in the doorway and peered into the room. "There's no way I'm spending the night here with you," she announced.
West shrugged, apparently not caring one way or the other. "Suit yourself," he said, and proceeded to rummage through the nightstand.
Carter scowled darkly in annoyance. It had seemed like the best choice at the time, but she was now regretting very much her decision to accept West's help in retrieving Sam Beckett. The mysterious Mr. West was irritating and self-confident to an absurd degree and Carter was beginning to wonder if she would be able to work with him even for the short amount of time this operation was likely to take. Should have just let Max kill him back at the Salty Spittoon.
Finally, having no other reasonable recourse, Carter stepped across the threshold into the room and dumped her duffel on the floor beside the door. "I don't suppose you have a plan..." she ventured doubtfully, casting a revolted glance around the grimy room.
West looked up from his idle rummaging. "Of course I have a plan!" he replied. "Rule number one -- 'always have a plan'."
"Don't suppose you want to let me in on it, eh?" prodded Carter. She'd finished her cursory examination of the room and concluded that if it came to spending the night, she'd rather take her chances and camp out in the alley behind the building. Less vermin there.
"What's the matter?" asked West, feigning hurt. "Don't trust me?"
"No," was the blunt, unamused reply.
West's expression suddenly lost all its flippancy and became earnest. "Relax, Commander," he said, making a genuine effort to reassure Carter. "Everything's under control."
"Well... we'll see," replied Carter, partially mollified. She retrieved her duffel bag from where it lay beside the door and carried it over to the tiny alcove that served as their bathroom and began pulling out her toiletries, arranging the articles neatly on the dingy countertop beside the rusty sink. "So, what do we do now?" she called out into the main room.
Before West could answer however, the telephone on the nightstand rang. He reached over from where he sat on the bed and picked up the receiver and into the mouthpiece said, "Smith." Carter watched him listen intently a few seconds, then ask, "Where?" He listened to the reply, which was apparently to his satisfaction, because he finally said, "We'll be there in fifteen minutes," and hung up the phone.
Carter emerged the rest of the way from the bathroom and regarded West quizzically, waiting for an explanation. Instead, however, West flashed her a smile and said, "We're going out, baby."
"Out? Now? Where are we going?" demanded Carter, once again growing suspicious of the man's motives.
"Ogopogo Bar & Grill," answered West. "Sounds kinda nice, doesn't it?" he finished smoothly as he got up from the bed and headed for the door.
Once again, Carter was relegated to following, but as she went, she firmly resolved to have a few words with Mr. West the first chance she got and explain once and for all who was in charge of this operation...
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