Renegade Deception # 117 - 118: A is for Abriel

ON: [Starbase 343, Promenade, 1000 hours]

There she was, walking down the promenade. She had just arrived a few minutes ago, and wasn't due to report in for another hour.

She wandered around the station, attracting glares and stares. She was obviously enjoying this. No wonder everyone was looking at her, she was clad in naught but a white tank top, a black mini-skirt, knee-high stiletto boots, and…her trademark fedora.

God, so this was what it was like to be in space, she wondered. Starfleet officers continually mingling with civilians, humans interacting with non-humans. This was just amazing! She had never seen such multiculturalism before, and yet, Montreal was considered as the capital of multiculturalism.

She was in total awe about what was happening. She walked around the promenade, looking all around her. Her eyes gleamed in delight when she spotted a hat shop in the market. Unfortunately, it was run by a Ferengi, but she decided to take a look anyway.

"Can I interest you in this, miss?" the vendor asked, presenting her a hat of Gorn creation, which was fashioned with alligator scales, and adorned with a grey feather. She almost recoiled at the sight of it. "I'm not into animal skin, sorry," she replied, almost insulted.

She picked up a burgundy fedora and tried it on. A perfect fit. She took it off and put her own back on. "I'll take this one," she stated. The vendor was appalled at her choice.

"But…but a lady such as yourself deserves something more glamorous!" he exclaimed.

"I'm taking this burgundy fedora with the white feather," she contested, determined in her choice.

The Ferengi sighed. "Very well. It'll be ten bars of gold-pressed latinum."

"Ten bars? This isn't worth more than five!" she almost shrieked, knowing full well that she was getting ripped-off.

"I have to admit, you know the value of a hat, miss," he complimented her. "I'll give it to you for eight bars."


"Seven, and it's my final offer."

She smirked. She knew she could have bought for five bars. "Fine, seven it is," she said as she dished out seven bars of gold-pressed latinum, took the hat and walked away. She had been assigned to the Pegasus as the Captain's yeoman for some reason, but it wouldn't be arriving for some time, so she thought she might just go looking for a job. She wouldn't take the risk of resurrecting the Mad Hatter for the third time.

As luck would have it, something caught her eye; a "Help Wanted" sign right at the door of a tavern. Alyson smiled, took off her old black fedora and slipped her new one on her head, which had just recently received follicle implants. And quite frankly, she liked this new, short hair. It sure beat the wig she'd been wearing for over a year now.

She looked at the sign again, smiled, and confidently walked in. With all her experience as barwench and bar owner, she'd have this job in no time.

OFF: tag Ryylar!!

Alyson Cooper Barwench/ CO's yeoman USS Pegasus