A man walks into the bar, dressed in a green leather business suit. Except for one small blemish he wouldn't look any different from any other human here on Deep Space Station G-2. Those who looked closely would have noticed that the man's left hand was slightly disfigured. A white and red handkercheif was wrapped around the tip of his Ring finger, the handkerchief was obviously normally white, with blood stains smattered all over it. Next to the handkercheif, the man's pinkie finger was cut off at the second digit, making it look almost as if he did not have a pinkie finger. He stepped up to the bartender and ordered Sake, the bartender nodded and gave him the bottle along with two bowls. He carefully picked up the bottle and the bowls, making sure he did not get blood on either. He strolled over towards a table in the far corner of the bar. The table was occupied, he stood patiently and respectfully a short distance from the table. The occupants took the hint and quickly went off to another table. The man sat down without a word of thanks to the previous occupants, he quickly set the table. He placed one bowl in front of himself, and the other bowl across from him. Reaching into his bag, that until now, no one realized he had with him, he pulled out a small bunsun burner. Activating it he placed the bottle of Sake on the burner and waited. He did not have to wait long.
A very nervous looking Federation Starfleet Lieutenant Commander entered the bar, he glanced around the room, obviously looking for someone. The man made no move to wave him over to the table. It took a couple of minutes for the Starfleet Officer to find his way to the man's table. When he sat down, he constantly looked around, as if he was expecting someone to be watching him.
"You are much too tense, my young friend." The man began, "Be assured that your superiors will not know that you are here. Precautions have been taken."
"I hope you're right."
"I assume that you have what I want." It was not a question, it was a statement. A statement that if told he was wrong, something very nasty would happen to the person who made the statement wrong.
"That's right, one thousand Photon Torpedoes."
"Excellent." The man took the bottle off of the burner and began to pour the liquid into the officer's bowl. He filled the bowl with four slow, and deliberate motions. Then he repeated the process with his own bowl. He grasped the bowl with two hands and held it up in a salute, the officer did likewise. Slowly they both took a small drink out of their bowls. He then placed his bowl across the table in front of the officer, and the officer again repeated the gesture. They picked up the bowls that were now in front of them and both finished off the rest of the liquer in the bowls. "By sharing each others drink, we have formalized this contract. I will recieve the 1000 Photon Torpedoes, and you my friend shall recieve the agreed upon sum of credits. In addition, Federation Frieghter Convoys will be off limits to all Syndicate operations for the next three standard months."
"How do I know you will keep your word?"
If the man was insulted, he didn't show it. "I am a Kuroi Kiri, unlike the others, the Orions, or the Prime, who would go back on their word as soon as it suits their fancy, we are a people of honor. Honor and Obedience is all in the Kuroi Kiri. To break such an oath is shameful to the family."
"Family? Honor?!" Whether the officer found his nerve in himself or his drink, it mattered little, "You talk as if you were some glorious samaurai, but all you are is a petty theif!
The man's eyes narrowed, "I would mind your tongue if I were you, you are very near losing the second half of our arrangement." The man slapped his left hand onto the table. "This is honor and obedience! I am late, my oyabun was dissapointed, but he accepted my true apology. Through Yubitsume, my honor is restored!"
"You people are crazy."
The man smiled for the first time in since he stepped into the bar, "No, we are disciplined. Which is why we will emerge from this, Pirate War, victorious."
"I hope you're right." The officer stood up and turned to leave. He stopped momentarily, "Take a few Romulan Convoys down for us, allright?"
The man bowed in acknowledgement. After the officer had left, someone with good hearing could hear the man speak very softly. "Romulan, indeed. Perhaps we shall. But only if it suits us, only if it allows us to avenge those lost to the Gorn!"