Kalmar Torek beckoned Mr. West to join him for a drink and discussion. Other patrons in the bar looked him overly for a moment and then turned away. The Vesputian did not look like anyone's idea of a good time.
"There's a table over there where we can be alone, Mr. West," Kalmar said.
The two men walked over to the table where Kalmar ordered a drink for West and a glass of milk for himself.
"Now then, Mr. West," Kalmar said, "how are things going with the berries?"
West smiled. "I'll be sorry to see the G'kra go home in a few days now that the treaty signing is over. I can't remember the last time I had such a profitable cargo route. I may buy some land up in the hills near Blue Lake and retire!"
"You know, Mr. West, that we would be able to continue to supply you with berries if you were to arrange a trade route to the G'kra homeworld. Perhaps you would consider such a thing."
West thought a moment. Such a trade route would be profitable to say the least. He might have to hire himself a larger cargo ship; the Rocinanté was fast, but might not be big enough. That all depended, of course, on how much yorna berries the monks could produce. It would definitely be worth looking into. "A steady job?" he replied jovially. "I'm not sure I can handle that! But I'll certainly give it some thought." As much as a steady cash-flow enticed him, he suspected that a continued business relationship with the Vesputians would prove expensive in other ways, and as if to prove his misgivings correct, the monk seated across the table from him broached that very subject.
"And do you have anything to report about activities that might interest me?" Kalmar asked.
A portion of West's natural bravado crumpled to ash at the unwelcome reminder of his coerced responsibility to the Vesputians, but he managed to keep his roguish smirk intact. He finished his tankard in one huge gulp, and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, much to the disgust of Torek. The alcohol seemed to refortify his courage, for he flashed the stoic monk a lopsided grin and said, "Buy me another beer and I'll tell you Starfleet's darkest secrets."
Kalmar bought another beer and an extra one as well. He continued to sip a glass of milk, switching from cow to goat.
"Mr. West," he said, "I'm counting on you to keep me posted. Certainly you've discovered some tidbit."
West blew the head off his first new beer and took a few long sips. Setting the tankard down on the table, he pondered a few seconds, then replied. "To be perfectly honest, Kalmar, there's not a whole lot going on right now. The G'kra have signed the treaty with the Federation. President Carlyle has already left for Earth, and the G'kra leaders will be going home in a few days.
"The terrorists who attacked the President's ship haven't been caught yet, and Starfleet's busting its butt looking for them all over the planet, but so far they haven't found anything, not even the great Aegis-Hall. Sorry -- that's all I got."
Kalmar knew most of this information, yet it was pleasant to have it confirmed. The search for the terrorists was interesting as well.
"I have another favor to ask of you, Mr. West," Kalmar continued relentlessly. His people weren't known for their mercy. "I would like to make some inroads into Serenity society. Who should I know? And to whom can you introduce me?"
West looked a little confused. "Society?" He wasn't sure what the Vesputian meant. "You mean girls? You want me to introduce you to some girls?"
Kalmar almost choked on his milk. He sputtered. "Girls? Mr. West, really. Do I strike you as the type that needs someone to procure female companionship for me?"
"Uh... Well... That is, I mean..."
Kalmar was looking a little offended. "I shall speak in plain Federation lingo," the monk continued. "I wish to have contacts in high social places. I want to be introduced to the richest merchants/traders, the richest civilians, the strongest politicals, the military's mightiest on Serenity - anyone else you know who might be important to the colony. Girls? No, Mr. West. I wan to know who holds the power in this place. So tell me, who?"
"Well, you already know the head of Starfleet on the planet, Commodore Hunter. Aside from him, there's the mayor of Serenity City and the mayor of Lake Town," West said.
"Perfect," Kalmar replied. "That will do. I shall pay this person a visit. Now if you will excuse me, Mr. West, I have an appointment with the commodore. I am sure he is in need of my guidance."
With that Kalmar rose, took two steps away and turned back. "Mr. West, do consider my proposition about the berries. It will be profitable for all of us."
And then he was gone only to appear in front of the commodore's assistant's desk again. He didn't say a word. He just sat on the floor.
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