Seen and Not Heard

Posted on Fri Feb 7th, 2025 @ 5:09pm by Lieutenant Adrianna Baciami

2,342 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Stars Around the Well
Timeline: Past

The chamber was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of incense and aged parchment. At the centre of the room, Vance sat opposite the faction leader, his expression unreadable, his body language exuding the easy confidence of a man accustomed to negotiations. Across from him, delegates remained stiff-backed and impassive, their own translator seated beside them, listening intently to every word.

Adrianna stood slightly behind Vance, a sheer scarf draped over the lower half of her face. It was both a symbol of her silence and a means of concealing the minute movements of her lips as she whispered translations. The faction’s customs forbade women from speaking in formal negotiations, so she had to work within their rigid framework– interpret for Vance, keeping her voice low enough that only he could hear, and ensure the other translator never caught any discrepancies.

The discussion unfolded in slow, calm, deliberate exchanges. The faction leader spoke, Adrianna translated, and Vance responded with smooth, measured confidence. Their counterpart’s translator relayed his words back, ensuring that both sides remained informed and that no-one could mistranslate.

Everything seemed to be progressing well– until Adrianna caught something.

A single phrase.

It was subtle, buried within the formal language, but she recognised it for what it was: a veiled threat. A quiet confirmation that this meeting was not what it seemed. The deal was a pretext. There was no intention of honouring their agreement. They wanted the job done for free and would not be paying them upon return.

Vance didn’t react because he hadn’t noticed, although did note the hesitation in Adrianna translating. The other side's translator looked at her, having only hurt silence and no murmur. There was a challenge in his gaze– a warning shot to encourage her to just do her job. Adrianna couldn’t warn Vance outright. If she altered too much in her translation, the other translator would catch on. If she spoke out of turn, the entire meeting could collapse too.

Instead, she shifted her posture, tilting her head ever so slightly towards Vance as she whispered, letting the fabric of her scarf conceal the deliberate change in her words.

“They wish to confirm the terms of ‘safe’ passage,” she murmured but in the subtle rhythm of her voice, in the slight weight she placed on the words, she conveyed a different meaning– one Vance would recognise if he was listening carefully.

Safe passage wasn’t guaranteed.

She saw the slight flicker of awareness in his eyes. The way his jaw tensed ever so slightly. He’d caught it. Vance leaned back in his chair, his movements slow, controlled. “Then perhaps,” he said smoothly, “we should discuss alternative guarantees.”

The faction leader hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second. A pause that confirmed Adrianna’s suspicions. The tension in the room shifted. Adrianna remained still, her eyes unreadable above the veil of her scarf. To anyone who didn't know her, she looked like a mere uninterested translator.

The faction leader’s hesitation was brief, but Vance caught it. He let the silence stretch a little longer than necessary, forcing the other man to shift uncomfortably in his seat before he finally spoke.

Vance hadn’t walked into this meeting blind. Now, he was walking out of it one step ahead. “This is a high risk job,” Vance said smoothly, resting his hands on the table as if he were completely at ease, “we’ll be moving through Starfleet-patrolled space. That’s not the kind of risk my crew takes without a guarantee.”

The faction leader narrowed his eyes, and Adrianna could see their translator whispering Vance’s words to him.

“Our word is the guarantee,” the leader replied, his tone firm, which Adrianna dutifully translated.

Vance exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Your word is worth a lot, I’m sure– but I don’t risk my crew’s necks for promises– they trust me to ensure they not only get home safe, but that they are also compensated for the risks,” he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice just enough to add weight to his next words, “we will take an upfront payment– minimum of thirty percent. That ensures we all stay invested in making this work.”

Adrianna knew what he was doing. He wasn’t just securing a guarantee for them– he was making sure they got paid, no matter what. If this deal went south, if the faction turned on them or tried to pull something, they wouldn’t walk away empty handed.

The faction leader didn’t look pleased. His fingers tapped against the table, his expression unreadable. “That is not how we conduct business,” he said finally.

Vance didn’t so much as blink at Adrianna's translation, “then find someone else to do it.”

The words landed like a challenge.

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken calculations. The faction leader wasn’t used to being refused– Adrianna could see it in the stiffness of his posture but Vance was right– and they both knew it.

After a long pause, the faction leader gave a slow nod. “Fifteen percent now,” he countered, “The rest upon completion.”

Vance tilted his head slightly, considering the translation. Adrianna didn’t miss the way his fingers tapped against the arm of his chair– just once, a barely noticeable motion.

A silent no.

“Twenty five,” Vance said, “non-negotiable.”

Another pause.

Then, finally, the faction leader exhaled through his nose and nodded. “Twenty five,” he agreed.

Vance smiled, as Adrianna relayed the agreement, leaning back as if the whole thing had been effortless, “pleasure doing business with you.”

Adrianna kept her expression impassive behind her scarf, but inside, she allowed herself a flicker of satisfaction. They had their money at least– Lutz would be relieved. More importantly though– they had their leverage.

As they stood to leave, Adrianna stayed close to Vance, her scarf still in place, her eyes scanning the room as the faction’s guards shifted near the doors. She had done her job– kept Vance informed, ensured they weren’t walking into a trap, and made sure they got paid. It should have been a clean exit but as they turned, she let her focus slip for just a moment.

“That could have gone worse,” she murmured under her breath, just loud enough for the nearest guard to hear.

The blow came fast and seemingly out of nowhere.

A sharp crack echoed through the chamber as the back of a guard’s gilded hand struck her face, snapping her head to the side. The force of it made her stumble, the metallic taste of blood sharp on her tongue.

Vance moved instantly. His chair scraped back, and his hand was halfway to his weapon before Adrianna caught his arm. He was livid. His entire body tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap. His jaw clenched so hard she could see the muscle twitch beneath his skin, his eyes dark with barely contained fury.

Before he could do something stupid, she straightened, lifting her chin, her fingers lightly touching where the hit had landed. Ignoring the sting on her cheek, she placed a hand on his chest– firm, steady– and, in the faction’s language, she spoke clearly.

“I apologise. My voice was louder than it should have been,” she apologised, bowing her head slightly.

The room remained silent. The faction leader watched on, noting what had happened. The guard, satisfied with the show of discipline, didn’t strike again.

Vance, however, didn’t move for a moment. His chest rose and fell beneath her hand, his whole body thrumming with restrained violence. Adrianna knew that if she so much as blinked wrong– if she gave him any sign that she wanted vengeance– he would tear this entire place apart without hesitation.

So she pressed her fingers lightly against his chest– a silent plea for him to calm down.

Not here. Not now.

After a long, agonising moment, Vance exhaled through his nose and took a deliberate step back, retracting his hand from hovering above his phaser.

The faction leader inclined his head, seemingly satisfied that order had been restored. “A lesson in discipline is not wasted,” he remarked and his translator offered, though Adrianna detected the flicker of something behind his words. Amusement? Testing the waters of her resolve? Perhaps he enjoyed the violence.

Vance didn’t respond. He simply held Adrianna’s gaze for half a second longer, then turned toward the exit.

Adrianna followed, keeping her steps even, and her head down, trying to look meek. The moment they were outside, and the doors shut behind them, she knew what was coming.

Vance’s voice was low, tight with anger, “You let them hit you?”

“The punishment was merciful. Better to be hit than have my tongue ripped out,” she sighed, the tension in her shoulders finally settling, “I stopped you from getting the rest of the crew getting killed.” She pulled the scarf from her face, finally feeling a little better about breathing. Her cheek was bright red from the hit, in an almost perfect handprint. A trickle of blood fell from a small cut high on her cheekbone. She touched it and looked at the blood on her fingers, before using the scarf to wipe her fingers and stem the bleeding.

His jaw clenched as he saw the damage to her face, but he didn’t argue. He just shook his head, muttering a string of curses as they made their way back to the ship.

Adrianna allowed herself a small smile.

At least he cared.

Back on the ship, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The moment they stepped aboard, Vance had sent the crew back to their duties, but he stayed close as their Vulcan doctor checked over Adrianna in the medbay.

She sat on the edge of the examination table, her posture relaxed despite the dull ache in her cheek. The strike hurt and had left one hell of a mark, but it was nothing serious. The doctor, ever the man with an amazing bedside manner, pressed two fingers lightly against her jaw, tilting her head slightly to inspect the bruise forming just beneath her eye.

“You have sustained minor trauma,” the doctor stated flatly, “I will apply a dermal regenerator for the cut so that it doesn't scar, but otherwise– ice it and the swelling will go down.”

“I’m fine,” Adrianna muttered, rolling her eyes.

“You are injured.”

“Madonna, It’s just a bruise, Doctor–”

“She gets the treatment, doc,” Vance interrupted from where he stood with his arms crossed. His tone was sharp, but Adrianna recognised it for what it was. Not anger. Frustration. The doctor merely inclined his head and turned to retrieve the regenerator.

Vance exhaled through his nose before turning toward Lutz, who had been leaning against the doorway, arms folded, waiting for the debrief. “So?” Lutz prompted, “how badly did they try to screw us, again?”

Vance ran a hand through his hair before answering. “They wanted us to take the job on promises alone. I pushed for a guarantee. We secured a twenty five percent upfront payment.”

Lutz let out a low whistle. “That’s a damn sight better than I expected after last time,” he smirked, “Are you finally learning to think like a businessman?”

Vance shot him a look but didn’t take the bait, “it wasn’t about business, Lutz. It was about making sure we don’t get shafted if they decide to pull something, again.”

Lutz grunted in approval. “Smart,” his gaze flicked to Adrianna. The doctor was firmly holding her by the chin as he ran the regenerator over the cut. Lutz looked back at Vance, “and I’m guessing that little mark on her face means the locals weren’t the friendliest?”

Vance’s jaw tightened slightly, “she slipped up. Spoke when she wasn’t supposed to.”

Lutz’s smirk faltered. Adrianna didn't go out of her way to cause trouble, really– when it came to her job, she was always on the ball and rarely screwed up. He glanced at Adrianna, then back at Vance, “and you didn’t kill anyone?”

Adrianna sighed, pulling away from the doctor's hold as he finished. “I stopped him,” she interjected, voice dry.

Lutz raised an eyebrow. “You stopped him?” he shook his head, “You do realise he’d have put that entire room in the ground if you hadn’t, right? And no-one would have got paid.”

She shot Vance a look as if to warn him that she wanted to hit Lutz for only thinking about the money, even though she knew the whys. Her gaze went back to Lutz, “which is exactly why I stopped him and took the punishment.”

Lutz chuckled, “you’ve got a death wish, Reggimi.”

Vance ignored the exchange, shifting the topic back to business, “we need to plan the route. Starfleet’s been running more patrols in that sector, so we’ll have to be careful. We’re running it through the usual relay?”

Lutz nodded, “already pulling nav data. We’ll have a route locked in before we break orbit.”

Vance gave a short nod, then turned back to Adrianna just as the Vulcan studied his work for a moment before stepping back. “You are medically cleared,” the doctor stated, then turned and walked away without another word, to get cleaned up and to fetch her an ice pack.

Vance exhaled. “Get some rest, Adri,” he told Adrianna, though they both knew it wasn’t exactly an order.

She met his gaze, reading the lingering tension there, before offering a small smirk, “Try not to lose your temper while I do, amore mio.”

Vance muttered something under his breath and stalked off.

Lutz just laughed, shaking his head, “You really like pushing his buttons, don’t you?”

“Until he tells me to stop without a smile on his face,” Adrianna simply grinned.

 

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