Do not taunt the bureaucrat for they put you in lines

Posted on Sun Jul 15th, 2018 @ 3:00pm by Jacaranda

1,623 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Episode 95 - Helping Old Friends
Location: Starbase 400 Customs Office
Timeline: MD8

Jacaranda took the few steps forward only to continue to wait in the line to speak to a physical customs agent rather than the quick and simple computerized process. Her pet sehlat got up from his lying down to lumber the few steps as well and lay back down. She was quite used to this by now, it was only expected considering the long list of restrictions on anything from home coupled with the can’t transport thing. It was all the more reason to make sure her travel documentation was in perfect order since otherwise it would be standing in more lines.

Another few steps and she would be able to see some of the counter that was her destination after the especially slow Pakled acting as if he was moving through a very thick sweet syrup answered questions after a several seconds pause or took items out of his bag for the agent at counter to look over. Not for the first time, Jaca wished they had more on staff for this, but then most were able to use the computerized system.

She let her mind wander. Once this hurdle was over, it was a matter of finding her friend and starting this business proposal. Jaca had already visited home and discussed this with her father and bond-uncle as joint Heads of Family. They liked the idea and they also liked her friend though there was much lamentation that the poor woman was in desperate need of living deliciously more. Mother’s essence was in approval too, though that was more in the hope that being around a friend who had started a family would inspire Jaca to finally become Jacarandael. That wasn’t surprising, since her friend visited the trading base with her then infant son, Mother’s essence had tagged along with the rest of the immediate family and had become particularly focused on becoming a grandmother and nagging Jaca and her siblings in a steady chittering whisper about settling down.

Jaca reshouldered the pack on her back, and shifted the weighty bag she carried to her other hand. As tradition decreed, her family had loaded her down with gifts for her friend and son along with at least a starter amount of acceptable goods for the shop they were establishing. The portable forges she carried on her back were for custom work and stock replenishment. While Jaca knew everything was acceptable according to the trade agreements, but that wouldn’t stop a scared customs agent with a twitchy rejection stamper.

The chime followed by a loudly spoken “Next!” pulled Jaca out of her thoughts. She’d advanced a few more spots while on autopilot and could now see the hands of whoever was running the counter. Well, compared to when she was at the back of the line, this was progress. Another few steps in line, and it was an irate Ferengi’s turn. At least there was some waiting in line theatre as he tried to bluff and bluster the agent regarding the goods he was trying to transport through the station. One didn’t need to see the underlying pattern to know this was going to go over as well as a fart in a holy place during services.

Jaca did have to give the Security people credit for being pretty fast in hauling the Ferengi off the moment he crossed the line. The Romulan in front of her turned to make a polite conversation comment about the overconfidence of Ferengi smugglers, only to have her eyes widen as she noticed the species of the one behind her. Djabul were known to the Romulans. While relations had been such as they were, at least they were better than they were with the Klingons since the Warrior castes did have a tendency to go want to go give them a poke when bored. Jaca couldn’t help but smirk as she recalled her bond-uncle telling his favorite story from when he was one of the Warrior caste. He with his brothers had been drinking too much honeyed wine and in a moment of ‘it made complete sense while drunk’, headed off with their bond-brother to go mess with some Klingons. The bond-brother had once been from the Keeper caste so while in the home system, he willed himself to the size of a starship, the rest climbed inside him and they headed off towards Klingon space. Naturally, the small fleet of Klingon ships upon seeing what looked like a giant posterior with a lolling eye and wings opened fire. The Djabul warriors were having too much fun laughing and dodging phasers until they felt the rumbling. The combination of large amounts of honeyed wine and the drunken feast of spicy beans they had before leaving was starting to stir in their bond-brother’s innards. The Klingons probably felt they’d managed to wound their prey and clustered together for a glorious unified strike against some unknown monster, and unfortunately put themselves in place for the inevitable voiding of the Djabul’s gas build up. Jaca’s bond-uncle wasn’t sure how far the fart blew the Klingons, and he didn’t remember any explosions. They also didn’t stick around and headed back for home since they were low on honeyed wine. Since travelling the galaxy, Jaca had tried to find out anything more to the story. Most she could find was a small patrol of Klingons did report heading to investigate an unusual lifesign, only to reappear a few systems over with a terse comment of ‘we will not speak of this’. It was tempting enough to make her want to see if she could find the crew rosters, track some of them down and make a farting sound with her hands to see how they’d react. Probably would be hysterical.

A few more steps and the Romulan ahead of her was up. As expected, the discussion was brief and the food shipment the Romulan was delivering was cleared. Jaca sigh of relief that her turn was next.

“Chit please.”, said the ensign on duty, eyeing her baggage warily.

Jaca set her identity chit in the reader slot and set out her various documentation. Permission to travel freely within Federation space, Certification to craft and deal in Djabul goods, Clearance to receive Djabul foodstuffs for personal consumption, Permission to establish a business within Federation space with all appropriate taxation forms filed and submitted within the mandated time frames, Proof of the establishment of a Federation line of credit, and a list of Federation citizen references to speak for her reputation and character.

The ensign took his time reading over all of it instead of just looking for the official seals and signatures, occasionally ‘hmm’ing’ as he went over each and set it to the side. Once everything met his approval, he started reading off the necessary information for the computer to document. At least this was quicker than the reading things over part.

“Goods to declare?”, he asked as she set her bag on the counter first. Looking at how packed it was, the ensign called over another to assist. They went over the food Jaca was bringing to start off with, questioning everything down to what seasonings were used. Most were cleared, though the bottles of fizzy drink were confiscated. Pity since the Pomegranate-Bloodflower flavor was one of her favorites. She’d just have to request more from home when she had the chance.

Next were the gifts and personal items. At least most of those passed inspection though for some reason a pair of socks ended up confiscated. It still too way longer than it should have, but then, that was expected considering the trade agreements regarding Djabul goods. By this point Itchayok was fussing for having been here too long. The sehlat wanted to be able to roam and have something tasty to eat.

Once the bag was nitpicked through, she set her pack down on the counter with a weighty thump.

“And this is?”, the ensign asked warily.

“Portable forges. Can handle metal, stone and gems.”, Jaca said.

“Hmmm…I’m going to have to look at all that.”, the ensign replied.

By this point, Jaca had had enough. It was a portable forges set, anyone with the barest amount of sapience or sentience would know what constituted a portable forges set. This ensign was clearly proving he had neither.

“Really?”, she said flatly with what was supposed to be a pleasant smile, but actually turned out to be blazing eyes with a needly fanged grimace.

The ensign for a moment looked as if he was about to lose control of his bladder, but to his credit, his uniform pants remained dry. Steeling himself up with the only weapon he had, he said simply, “Move over to Room Two. We will begin there.”

Hefting her forges back on her shoulder and taking bag in hand, Jaca walked over in resignation. The ensign looked over to see if she was complying and commented, “Those boots…they haven’t been cleared yet.”

Jaca groaned silently, they were simple smith’s boots reinforced with nevercold brass and absolutely nothing to be concerned over. But the situation was what it was.

Once in the room, she began laying out her forges kit. At least to the Federation’s credit, there were bowls of water and protein kibble for her sehlat in place. As they began going over what each item was, starting with the smallest clamp, Jaca seriously wondered if by the time she finally got out of here it would be before her friend’s child was ready to start his own family.

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