<Katra Station - Promenade - Morning of day 5>
Standing at the fringes of the assembled crowd, Paul's eyes scanned the horizon in readiness for Commander t'Lhoell's announcement. Not that he was expecting trouble, but he certainly had prepared for it. The scan of the symbol near the now-repaired escape hatch had revealed nothing - the iconography was similar - but not identical - to a myriad of signs across the Quadrant and beyond. It had been a long evening, and Paul had forced himself to turn in for the night in order to be refreshed. The rest could only be helpful to digging deeper.
But right now his place was here, on the Promenade, ahead of the Commander's message. He had spoken to Solen, and despite her experience and reputation, made clear his feelings on overtly armed Security staff among the civilian populace. And, surprisingly, she had agreed, even suggesting she begin focused training for defensive tactics, to enable Security to restrain and detain criminal elements without having to resort to an easy, thoughtless stun setting as their first port of call. So now, although the officers carried a small Type-I phaser concealed under their tunic, for all intents and purposes the Civilian Zone Constabulary looked to be a visible, authoritative - but without trappings of military power - comfortable presence to protect the interests of the station's residents.
Going forward, Wessex had asked Solen to investigate, source and trial other means of subduing violent elements, such as short batons with the ability to induce a mild shock to tame the most...stubborn... of aggressors. Obviously, if armed incidents warranted a response in kind, Paul knew Solen had the conventionally armed response teams on standby.
Granted, it wasn't his job, and he'd report to Commander t'Lhoell, Lieutenant M'Kai, and obviously Lt Commander tr'Lhoell on his return, before implementing anything, but Paul hoped just these small inroads enabled the peoples of this station felt like Katra was a home, and not a military base that were almost an inconvenience to Starfleet's own personnel.
His ruminations stopped as he saw a small head weave in and out of the crowd, stopping periodically before moving on. Wessex pulled a small smile. There was always one light-fingered scally in public gatherings. He turned to Crewman Lina Parcetti, some 20 meters away, and nodded at her, then the small girl who had continued to mingle among the pockets of those present. Expertly so, it had to be said.
Parcetti glanced to where Paul has indicated, and nodded back to him in acknowledgement, before plotting a casual intercept course. The young girl may not be part of the ongoing activities elsewhere - extra-legal opportunists were as old as coral on ocean floors, after all - but even the most petty of thieves had to realise they could not operate with impunity.