"Escape" Chapter Two / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

Kira and Nerrit were nearly to the penal camp when explosions began to rip through the complex. It had just become visible to the naked eye when the first detonation occurred. Rather than decelerating, Nerrit gunned the engine.

“What are you doing?” Kira demanded to know.

“Do you want the prisoners to escape?” Nerrit shouted back over the road noise and the whining of the straining engine.

“No, but they’re not going anywhere while all hell is breaking loose,” Kira yelled back, “and we need to figure out what’s going on.”

“How difficult is it to figure out?” Nerrit was incredulous. “It’s a jailbreak.”

“But who is breaking prisoners out and how much support do they have?” Kira asked. “Do they have the capability to…?”

Kira suddenly lapsed and turned her head skyward. Nerrit grew impatient. “The capability to do what?”

“Do you hear that?” Kira suddenly interjected.

“Hear what?” Nerrit impatiently inquired as a crackling noise descended upon them.

An explosion ripped the ground beside the scout car apart. Nerrit wildly veered off. Kira took it with grim aplomb.

“The capability to do that,” she said with a sense of fatalism.

Nerrit course corrected and began to go forward again. Kira reached over and jerked the wheel hard over. As the scout turned, an explosion tore at the ground before the scout, exactly where it would have been if it hadn’t altered course.

“What did Starfleet teach you anyway?” Kira was angry. “Drive an evasive pattern or we’re both dead.”

“Starfleet doesn’t use ground based photon launchers anymore. They found them to be environmentally harmful,” Nerrit grated as she started wildly turning to and fro. Explosions bracketed the car.

“Well, the Cardassians weren’t so prissy,” Kira snorted. “They dropped these bastards on us every chance they got.”

“Lucky you,” Nerrit grimaced as another explosion almost flipped the scout car over. “You’re just making me more glad that I missed the…ahhh!”

The next munitions strike did indeed flip the car over. Kira braced herself and was prepared as the roll bar skidded across the rough terrain between her and the rocky soil. Unclasping her seat belt harness she ingloriously fell to the ground.

Kira knew it just a matter of seconds before the photon launcher would be realigned. Unfortunately, Nerrit seemed dazed. Kira swore as she unclasped Nerrit’s harness and began to drag the younger woman away from the car.

Hearing the distinctive sizzle of the photon mortar, she sheltered Nerrit with her body as the scout was destroyed. Kira suddenly heard coughing from underneath her. “I know we’ve just met and all, but don’t you think it’s a little early in our relationship to try bedding me?”

Kira raised up and backhanded Nerrit’s shoulder. “What the kost? You can joke at a time like this?”

“Never a better one,” Nerrit opined. She sat up as Kira leaned back on her haunches. “Bloody hell. I don’t think we’ll be making a difference in the prison break.”

“Didn’t Starfleet teach you how to march?” Kira asked derisively.

Nerrit groaned, “Yes, they did.”

“Then get on your feet!” Kira ordered, “and while we’re running, call in air support.”

Nerrit winced as she stood but she gamely followed the Major as Kira began a paced run towards the penal camp. Despite their irregular route, they’d actually closed most of the distance. They were close enough to witness a scout car, identical to their destroyed one, pull up at the camp’s gates.

Two figures emerged from the camp while one of the two aboard the scout laid down suppressive fire. Kira recognized the man coming out as Tahna Los. The raven haired female that everyone seemed to defer to was unknown to her. The scout car was driven by a woman, little more than a girl, with violet hair. She wheeled the scout around and went back into the foothills from which the mortar fire had erupted.

When Kira and Nerrit reached the gates to the Belava labor camp, they found them shattered by a photon discharge. Pockets of burning debris littered the courtyard. There were also still two ground cars still intact. Phaser fire could be heard resounding throughout the compound. A rather disheveled corporal approached Kira and Nerrit.

“State your purpose here!” he challenged.

“To catch your escapees,” Kira snapped. “Do those ground cars require pass keys?”

“Er…no,” the corporal managed to say.

“This time, I drive,” Kira declared to Nerrit.

“Feel free,” Nerrit flippantly replied.

As Kira made way to the foothills, Militia interceptors flew by overhead. Kira tapped her comm badge. “Flight Lead, this is Major Kira Nerys. I am in pursuit of the fugitives. Do you have eyes on them?”

“We have eyes on a vehicle, Major,” Flight Lead responded. “There also seems to be abandoned weapon mounts for photon launchers. No bodies or life signs are present.”

“Can you give me their coordinates, Lead?” Kira requested.

“Affirmative,” Lead recited the geographic coordinates and then spoke again. “Flight Two and I will stay on station in case it’s ambush.”

“Thanks, Lead,” Kira acknowledged.

She drove on, utilizing the planetary satellite system the Cardassians had deployed overhead to track the movements of the Bajoran people. Movements outside of regulated zones had attracted a military response. It had nearly crippled the Resistance. Bur Kira herself had been part of the solution that had deactivated the system before the withdrawal. Since the Cardassians left, the Bajorans had reactivated portions of the worldwide net, primarily using it as a global positioning network.

Following the path laid out by the satellite monitors, Kira honed in on her quarry. She signaled the flight leader again. “Lead, can you and Two give me a situation report on the perimeter?”

“Affirmative, Major,” Lead replied. “There is no movement and no life signs beyond your own. You should come upon the vehicle and the weapons emplacement inside of five minutes.”

“Roger that, Lead, they’re in sight,” Kira confirmed. “Please stay on station while we investigate the scene.”

“Copy, Major,” Lead replied. “Be advised, Special Forces units are en route to your position. A Constable Odo requests you secure the scene, but await him and a Constabulary forensics team to conduct the investigation.”

Kira smiled. “Inform Constable Odo I would be delighted to.”

“Major,” Odo acknowledged his reunion with Kira in his usual gruff way.

But Kira wasn’t fooled. Now that Odo had an active crime scene, he wasn’t as reserved with her. In fact, things were normalizing.

“Good to see you, Odo,” Kira said warmly. To give Odo credit, he didn’t wince or even respond to her statement outwardly. But she thought she saw a glimmer of pain in his eyes that wasn’t there before his meeting with the Founder. She wanted to comfort him somehow but he spoke before she could.

“Special Forces has locked down the penal camp,” Odo said briskly. “Perhaps you and Lt. Nerrit could take charge of discovering who broke Tahna Los out.”

“You knew?” Kira wasn’t surprised.

“The camp is run by the Constabulary. They are very good to talking to one of their own,” Odo revealed. “They’re expecting you.”

“Okay, we’ll get out of your way,” Kira remarked.

“That would be appreciated,” Odo admitted.

Nerrit was a bit ruffled, but she saw Kira’s smile and wrote it off. The ride back to the camp was a silent one. Kira saw a cordon around the prison composed of bodies in gray uniforms.

“I hadn’t realized there were so many Special Forces officers,” Kira admitted.

“There are more all the time,” Nerrit confessed.

“What exactly do you all do?” Kira wondered.

Nerrit smirked, “Now that would be telling.”

The warden brought Kira and Nerrit into a surveillance room. Several stations were occupied by techs frantically trying to get the system back up. The warden gave Kira and Nerrit a pained look.

“The last photon round detonated near our computer core. The core is a salvaged Cardassian model stripped from a labor camp,” he explained.

“At east it won’t forget anything,” Kira remarked. “Federation models can be overwritten by power surges.”

Suddenly the stations came to life. The warden brought them to a young Constabulary tech. “This is Tech Sergeant Tan. He’ll help you retrieve the data you require.”

The warden bustled off to further his crisis management efforts. Kira looked at Tan. “Aren’t you a little young to be doing this?”

“Weren’t you a little young to join the Resistance?” Tan fired back.

“Point taken,” Kira relented. “Show us who broke Tahna Los out.”

And the visual recorders began their playback.

Odo arrived at the penal camp to find Nerrit in the front office waiting for him. He studied her as he asked, “Why aren’t you with Major Kira?”

“I sort of refused to give the Major the details of the deal between the Militia and Tahna Los,” Nerrit confessed. “At that point, the Major threatened to ‘blow my head off’ if I didn’t wait for you to arrive.”

“Heh,” Odo was definitely amused. “That sounds like Kira.”

He paused and then queried Nerrit as to why she didn’t specify that the deal with Tahna Los was strictly Special Forces’ purview. She shrugged. “Does it make a real difference?”

“It might,” Odo warned her. “Now take me to Kira.”

The assorted techs were doing busy work as they monitored the Special Forces’ efforts to assist the site’s Constabulary members as they restored order. The military’s intervention had saved the camp from being overrun by the prisoners — a fact that the Constabulary wouldn’t forget even if the Special Forces leadership would allow it.

Nerrit brought Odo to Kira. He noted that she was displeased. Kira spotted Odo and tried to smile. It seemed more like a rictus to Odo.

“Major, I came when I could,” Odo assured her.

“I’m just glad you were able to come at all, Odo,” Kira confessed. “Sgt. Tan has spliced together the footage across the camp of the mastermind of this little escapade. I was hoping you could identify her.”

“I’ll certainly try,” Odo promised.

“Run the footage, Sergeant,” Kira instructed.

Tan tapped a control and the mysterious Bajoran woman’s arrival at the front gates was displayed. Odo grunted. “Ro Laren.”

“You’re certain?” Kira wondered. She’d heard the name from Chief O’Brien and Commander Sisko, but she’d never had a face to put to it.

“Excuse me, but who is ‘Ro Laren’?” Nerrit asked.

“You probably know a helluva lot more about her than I do,” Kira told Odo.

Odo related the facts. “Lt. Ro Laren is an AWOL member of Starfleet. Before leaving the Bajor Sector, Ro joined the Resistance at age eleven, which was practically unheard of, even amongst the various cells.Ensign Ro was convicted in the unintentional deaths of fellow officer due to her culpability from disobeying direct orders. She was later released and posted aboard the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise.”

Nerrit was surprised and it showed. “But why would she be here, breaking Tahna out?”

“Because after completing Starfleet’s advanced tactical training, then-Lt. Ro abandoned Starfleet and joined the Maquis. It is rumored she is the cell leader on Ronara Prime,” Odo shared.

“And Tahna is a member of the Kohn Ma, which are in turn affiliated with the Maquis,” Kira reminded Nerrit.

“So we need to return to Ashalla,” Nerrit voiced. “We can direct the Constabulary’s planetwide manhunt from there.”

“Oh, we’re going to Ashalla,” Kira assured Nerrit, “but then Odo and I are returning to Deep Space Nine.”

“But Colonel Hassup ordered you to debrief Tahna,” Nerrit protested.

“And I will,” Kira promised her.

Nerrit seemed confused so Kira refrained from rolling her eyes as she explained, “Do you really think someone as clever and resourceful as Ro is going to stay on Bajor if she has a way out of the star system? The Kohn Ma are supposedly based on Valo II. Valo II was ceded into the Federation’s Demilitarized Zone with Cardassia. Do I have to go on, or can you start putting the pieces together for yourself?”

“Very well, but I’m coming with you,” Nerrit insisted.

“Suit yourself,” Kira sighed. “Just stay out of the way.

The Orinoco docked at DS9 and Eddington met the trio at the landing bay. “Colonel Hassup has been calling for you, Major. He sounds quite put out.”

“He’ll be more put out after I talk to him,” Kira predicted.

She took the message in the security office while Nerrit stood by and Odo conferred with Eddington and his own ranking deputy, Sgt Bit Henna. As Kira had said, Hassup was more aggravated after she’d briefed him as to her progress. But Hassup still stubbornly clung to one complaint after everything had been said.

“Why did you leave Bajor, Major?” Hassup demanded to know.

“As I explained to Lt. Nerrit,” Kira grated, “Ro and Tahna won’t be on Bajor. They’ll be headed for the DMZ.”

“Then why the hell are you currently on Deep Space Nine?” Hassup growled.

“Because I haven’t been fully briefed. Have I, Colonel?” Kira said at long last.

Hassup suddenly looked as though he’d licked a sour jumja stick. “No, you haven’t.”

“Would you like to come clean, Colonel?” Kira pointedly inquired.

“Lt. Nerrit will dole out the facts as you need them, Major. Just find Tahna.” Hassup’s image disappeared.

“Well?” Kira asked Nerrit.

“You don’t need any information yet,” Nerrit declared.

Kira debated on popping Nerrit one just for good measure. She turned to Odo and Eddington as they approached. “Anything?”

“As I was telling Odo, I ran a list of the ships that departed from Bajor and logged in a course to the DMZ,” Eddington stated. “I also pulled up Ro Laren’s service jacket.”

He handed a PADD to Kira and one to Odo. He shrugged at Nerrit. “I wasn’t told you’d be involved, Lieutenant.”

“I’ll just peer over Major Kira’s shoulder,” Nerrit predicted. Kira glared at her and she backed off. Odo did the same and she sighed, “Or maybe not.”

“This Ro Laren seems like an insubordinate, headstrong, risk taker,” Kira finally commented after digesting the personnel file.

“You should appreciate her then,” Odo commented.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kira asked a little too sharply.

“I think he’s trying to say it takes one to know one,” Eddington offered. Kira shot him a glare that silenced him.

“Was that your opinion as well, Constable?” Kira wanted to know.

“To a degree,” Odo admitted. As Kira huffed, Odo explained his reasoning. “You have to admit, this Ro does emulate you in many ways. You have similar histories; you both have an affinity for independent action, and you both seem to have a disregard for authority. That implies that you should have an insight into Lt. Ro’s mentality.”

Kira was pacified but it was Nerrit that spoke next. “All I know is I wouldn’t want to meet Ro in a dark alley.”

“What do you mean?” Eddington inquired.

“Check this out, Commander.” Kira called up the Militia file containing Ro’s entrance into the prison compound.

Ro sedately passed the gates and accessed the cell blocks. She was brought into a solitary room with a table placed in the center of it. Two chairs were placed at the table to either side. They faced either entrance. One entrance was for visitors and the other for prisoners.

The prisoner door opened and Tahna was roughly herded inside. He sized up Ro and sat down. However, Ro remained standing. As the two guards escorting Tahna took their places at the back wall, the pair of guards with Ro did the same.

Ro gave Tahna a nod and he fell from his chair onto the floor. She swung a chair off of the floor and hurled it at a guard. A guard behind Ro came at her. A high mule kick landed in the guard’s chest and she went flying backwards.

The other guard near Tahna had his phaser drawn and aimed at his prisoner. The fourth guard dove at Ro. She slipped out of his grasp and helped redirect his momentum so that he went into the table. The table slid forward and smacked into Tahna’s guard.

That guard found himself thrown off his feet. Tahna had hold of his phaser and stunned the other guard, who shucked off the chair and then Tahna fired at the disarmed guard. Meanwhile, Ro slammed the sprawled guard’s head off the table and then wheeled on the woman rushing her.

Ro used the heel of her hand to smash the woman’s nose. Even with the vestigial bones protecting her upper nasal passages, the woman still teared up as the softer portion of her nose was smashed. Blood flowed and she staggered back.

But there was no respite to be found there. Ro’s round kick drove into the woman’s ribs and a violent chop to the back of the guard’s neck put her down for good. Ro pulled that guard’s phaser free from her holster and fired a phaser burst into the guard extracting himself from the table.

Ro disabled Tahna’s cuffs and then collected three of the Militia issued phasers. She tucked one into her waistband and held the other two. Tahna protested but Ro cut him off with a lashing motion of her hand. Tahna then went to the visitor’s door. Ro moved to it as well but shot the locking mechanism. She then moved Tahna back to the door he’d entered from and they slipped out into the prison facility.

The scenes that followed were of pure chaos and carnage. Ro was very careful not to kill anyone, but crippling strikes were not beneath her. She used an overloaded phaser to breach the outer wall while Tahna liberated his fellow prisoners.

Ro fought her way outside while Tahna trailed her. They’d made it to the courtyard when the photon munitions began raining down. It was obvious from the timing that a spotter had seen them and authorized the weapons fire. By the time the pair made it to the gate, the Cardassian scout car driven by Ro’s rescuers. One was now revealed as a human while the other was roughly human in appearance, save that she had violet hair, which could prove an affectation, but she also had bone ridge over her nose that descended slightly down its length. It was vaguely Bajoran in appearance in all the disturbing ways.

As Ro’s party disappeared, Eddington said, “That was…very impressive.”

“Very,” Kira said dryly. “Would Starfleet happen to know anything about the human that played vehicle gunner and the whatever the hell she is that was driving?”

Eddington mulled it over. To some it would have seemed he was searching his memory. Odo knew differently.

“Commander Eddington, I can access the criminal action reports and find their identities easily enough,” Odo reminded him. “You’d simply save me time and aggravation.”

“The human’s name is Aric Tulley,” Eddington relented. “He’s originally from Haldos II, which is now in the DMZ. Before he left Haldos in a forced relocation, the Cardassian Guard executed his wife and children to ‘persuade’ him to go. He, in turn, sought out the Maquis on Ronara Prime. He now acts as Ro’s security chief.”

“And the woman?” Kira inquired.

Eddington shrugged. “There’s not much to say.”

“There has to be something,” Kira grated.

“Rumors only,” Eddington clarified. “Some claim her name is ‘Alea.’ Others call her something else. The only consistency is the violet hair.”

“Is she a Boslic or something else?” Kira wanted to know.

“Oh, she’s something else entirely,” Eddington stated.

“Could you tell us where she’s from then?” Kira was losing patience with the Starfleet officer.

“We don’t know.” Eddington saw Kira’s annoyed glare and he held up his hands. “Major, Bajor is on the very edge of explored space. Most of the Alpha Quadrant is uncharted. If it weren’t for the wormhole, we’d be concentrating on venturing out from Bajor out into local unexplored space.”

“This ‘Alea’ may come from those regions. All we know is that she suddenly appeared in the DMZ and she seems to serve as Ro’s intelligence officer. But even that is speculation,” Eddington revealed. “Where Alea came from is a mystery. What she’s doing in local space, particularly the DMZ, is unknown. Frankly, she’s a thorn in our side on many levels.”

“So with Ro and her cohorts involved, the question becomes: Why is Tahna Los valuable to the Maquis?” Odo interjected.

Everyone followed his gaze as it fell on Nerrit. She gulped.

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"Escape" Chapter One / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

Rating: K+

Kira and Odo are called into an investigation by a superior officer in the Bajoran Militia. The Kohn Ma terrorist, Tahna Los, has information regarding a string of murders involving a rival Resistance cell. It soon becomes apparent that Tahna also has ties to the Maquis and that the victims could be considered collaborators by the Maquis.

Chronology: Directly after the third season episode “Heart of Stone.”

"In the Shadows" Chapter Five / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

The transporter chief grunted as Aelynn and Romaine finished materializing. “Commander Talus wants you on the bridge as soon as you can get there.”

“Why?” Aelynn wondered.

“He wants you to handle our launch while he placates the officials,” the tech explained and then added, “and you’d best watch your tongue, Subcommander. We may be loose-knit but we are still Romulans. The command structure will be adhered to. That includes respect.”

“Inform the commander that I’ll be up as soon as I stow our passenger,” Aelynn assured him.

“Just hurry,” the tech advised. “Commander Talus is ready to chew neutronium.”

“It’d probably be easier on his digestion than his usual culinary massacres,” Aelynn quipped. The tech chortled and Aelynn waved Romaine on to follow her.

Aelynn led her through the ship. Romaine had studied Romulans ship designs. This was reminiscent of aBird of Prey, yet it was distinctly different. Finally, she had to ask why that was.

Aelynn grinned, “That’s because we’re in a Bird of Vengeance-class. Essentially we’re a scout. This class of vessel isn’t military. Rather, we’re privateers in the service of the Empire. We engage in exploration, anti-piracy operations, and first contact missions.”

“So, you’re counting on your semi-legitimate status to get us through security,” Romaine guessed.

Aelynn nodded as she came to a halt. “That is right. If you’ll step in here, these will be your temporary lodgings.”

Romaine looked in. It was a small berth, barely big enough to hold the cot contained within. Aelynn recognized Romaine’s look of dismay for what it was.

“This area is shielded. When the hatch closes, it is flush with the bulkhead. For all intents and purposes, it and its occupant disappear,” Aelynn described.

Dawning awareness wakened in Romaine. “You’ve done this before.”

Aelynn’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “On occasion.”

“But why?” Romaine wondered.

Aelynn suddenly wore a somber mien. “I’ll explain it all later on, but for now I need you in this area and I need to report to the bridge.”

“You’re locking me in, aren’t you?” Romaine realized.

“Only for a short span of time,” Aelynn assured her. “You must trust me.”

For some strange reason, Romaine did. And it wasn’t because Aelynn was her contact. Rather, it was in spite of that. Aelynn, and by extension her crewmates, were risking their lives to extract Romaine. The least she could do was cooperate.

Romaine entered the room and sat on the cot. “Do it. Before I change my mind.”

“Rest easy. We’re very, very good at this,” Aelynn promised. She then closed the door and locked it.

“Like I have a choice,” Romaine grumbled to the encroaching bulkheads.

It took a nearly three hours for Aelynn to release the door. Romaine had nearly gone mad from feeling claustrophobic. She gratefully accepted Aelynn’s invitation to the ship’s mess.

When they arrived, four other crewmen were present. They all openly stared at Romaine out of curiosity. Romaine was a little unnerved.

“Why am I such a focus of attention? Haven’t they seen humans before?” Romaine wondered.

“Of course they have. They just never seen one that wasn’t a slave,” Aelynn informed her.

“Slave?” Romaine latched onto that singular word.

“My people brought quite a number of prisoners back from the war between our peoples. Most were given to the noble houses to serve as slaves. The nobles use a variety of slaves from the subject races as menial laborers,” Aelynn explained. “Surely you knew.”

“No,” Romaine confessed. “Starfleet has often wondered what happened to those missing in action, but we always assumed they were actually killed in action.”

“Not always.” Aelynn seemed to be enjoying a private joke. “I am proof enough of that.”

“Are you saying…?” Romaine couldn’t believe it.

“My paternal grandmother was human. She was a slave that caught the eye of her master. He was impressed enough with her to forsake his House and marry her. That is where I learned to speak your native language. The skill has been passed down through the family,” Aelynn revealed.

“Is that why you’re helping me?” Romaine asked.

“Partly.” Aelynn decided to share, “The primary reason, and the factor motivating my crew, is the Reunification movement.”

“The what?” Romaine was baffled.

“What do you know of the Vulcan Reunification movement?” Aelynn inquired.

“I’ve never even heard of it,” Romaine confessed.

“T’Ling never spoke of it?” Aelynn had to ask.

“No.” Romaine was now wondering what the hell T’Ling had to do with anything.

Aelynn wore an approving smile. “She’s always been a cagey one. That is why she was chosen for the mission.”

“What mission?” Romaine demanded to know.

Aelynn looked sad. “I hate to inform you, Commander, but your mission was a feint.”

“Excuse me?” Romaine was incensed.

Aelynn held up her hands. “I had nothing to do with it. Commander Knight selected you out of the very limited choices. You distracted the Tal Shiar and kept their focus on you while T’Ling carried out the true mission. I am sorry to have to inform you of this.”

“But you’re not sorry I did my part,” Romaine scowled.

“Truly, I’m not,” Aelynn admitted. “T’Ling is one of our number.”

“What number?” Romaine snapped.

“The Reunification movement seeks to reunite the Vulcan and Romulan peoples in a cohesive exchange of cultures such as we had before the Sundering,” Aelynn explained.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Romaine said dismissively.

“Over a hundred years ago, the Star Empire’s agents travelled to Vulcan and placed this idea in the minds of the High Command as a manipulative ruse. The movement took a life of its own, and now a century later, there are adherents moving in secret on both sides of the border,” Aelynn shared.

“You’re trying to tell me a bunch of idealistic dreamers schemed up this plan?” Romaine countered.

“No, we had assistance from factions within Starfleet,” Aelynn explained. “There were some unexpected variables thrown in during your transit here that threatened the mission.”

“What kind of ‘variables?’” Romaine wearily asked.

“My sister became involved,” Aelynn stated.

“Who is your sister?” Romaine had to ask.

“You have had the misfortune of meeting her. She commands the cruiser that brought you to Romulus,” Aelynn divulged.

“Commander Alera is your sister?” Romaine was astounded. “You’re saying she’s part human and she’s still such a…”

As Romaine faltered while searching for a word, Aelynn chuckled. “No matter which adjective you apply, they’ve been used frequently and often for Alera.”

“Why is she so…so…?” Romaine stumbled.

“Full of hate?” Aelynn suggested. Romaine nodded and the Romulan explained, “My sister feels she is contaminated by her human blood. It is a perceived impurity that drives her every ambition. She feels she must constantly prove her orthodoxy and goes to great extremes to demonstrate her loyalty to the Star Empire and to simply being Romulan.”

“So let me get this straight. Your sister was the great threat that could’ve been our undoing?” Romaine had to scoff.

“Alera knows of the Reunification movement,” Aelynn said. “She suspects everyone of being a traitor or a threat, especially Vulcans.”

“Why would a Vulcan pose a concrete threat?” Romaine wondered.

“Vulcans act as philosophical ambassadors when they travel into the Star Empire. Indigenous members of the movement act as spies and agents of influence and change,” Aelynn shared. “The Tal Shiar expressly demanded that Alera be your team’s minder en route. That bodes ill.”

“The Federation’s Prime Directive forbids interference in foreign cultures. Starfleet is bound by that law, yet you’re saying Starfleet Intelligence ran an illegal covert operation?” Romaine inquired.

Aelynn wore a mischievous smile. “Did I say it was Starfleet Intelligence?”

“Yes, you did,” Romaine said flatly, even as she recalled that Aelynn hadn’t specified which branch of Starfleet had concocted this fiasco.

“I must have misspoken,” Aelynn retorted.

Romaine was stymied and she knew it.

Two days later, Romaine was brought to a small room with a viewscreen. She was curious as to why. Aelynn’s answer surprised her.

“We’ve arrived for our rendezvous with the Longbow,” the Romulan XO answered.

“We’ve reached the Neutral Zone?” Romaine asked hopefully.

“Not quite,” Aelynn smirked. Romaine was beginning to hate that mirthful expression. Aelynn opted not to leave her guest hanging in suspense. “We’re still a day away from the zone. The Longbow crossed the zone a day ago and should be here waiting for us.”

“Waitaminute!” Romaine exclaimed. “The Longbow violated the Neutral Zone?”

“Your own precious Enterprise did so,” Aelynn pointed out. “What is another starship after that?”

Romaine caught up with Aelynn’s statements. “If she’s here, why don’t you know it?”

“I think you’re about to see why,” Aelynn offered.

Romaine was half tempted to risk Aelynn’s greater strength and attempt to strangle her. Then she noticed the ripple in the viewscreen. “What the…? Something’s decloaking!”

“Right on time,” Aelynn mused.

Romaine was suddenly concerned that she’d come this far just to be delivered over to the Tal Shiar at long last. Then, as the mystery starship coalesced into view, Romaine realized the viewer displayed an image of an Archer-class scout.

“What the hell?” Romaine blurted. “When did the Longbow get a cloaking device?”

“Shortly after the Starfleet Corps of Engineers finished examining the one stolen by Kirk,” Aelynn explained. “We can proceed to the transport chamber now. I think you’ve seen what you needed to see.”

“Why did I need to see this?” Romaine asked.

“Did Commander Knight inform you what the primary rule is?” Aelynn inquired in turn.

“Yes,” Romaine answered warily.

“Then you have your answer,” Aelynn said sagely.

Romaine decided it wasn’t too late to strangle the Subcommander after all.

Romaine appeared in the Longbow’s transporter room. Knight cheerfully greeted her and Romaine responded by taking aim at her with her phaser.

The transporter chief reached for the alarm, but Knight waved him off. “Why Mira, whatever do you intend to do with that?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Romaine admitted. “I just feel more comfortable having this pointed at you.”

“And why is that?” Knight was thoroughly amused.

“You set me up,” Romaine accused. “I was your dupe. I was the decoy so your real agent could do God knows what.”

“True,” Knight admitted. “But I didn’t enjoy having to do it.”

“I don’t give a damn whether or not you enjoyed it,” Romaine growled. “You still did it.”

“Yes, I did. And given the same choice, I’d do it again in a hot second,” Knight divulged.

“I should just shoot you and take my chances with the crew,” Romaine declared.

“Go ahead,” Knight suggested.

“Say what?” Romaine was baffled.

“Knowing you would feel this way when we picked you up, do you really think I’d give you a weapon that you could use against me?” Knight inquired.

“You’re bluffing,” Romaine ventured.

“Let’s see if you are and we’ll know for sure if I am,” Knight urged.

Romaine thought for about half a second and then pulled the trigger. She tried a couple of more times. “Damn.”

Knight grinned, “I didn’t think you do it for a moment there. I’d say you’ve come a long way in a short time. Are you certain you wouldn’t like a change in careers?”

“Get stuffed,” Romaine replied.

Knight shrugged. “You might change your mind someday. I’ve got time.”

“Now what happens?” Romaine wondered.

“Now we go to our guest quarters and I’ll answer as many of your questions as I can,” Knight shared.

“I guess I’ll have to live with that,” Romaine sighed.

“Well, you certainly won’t get a better offer from anyone else,” Knight chuckled.

They were sitting in their room and Romaine finally vented, “What the hell was so important that you had to use me like a pawn?”

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that. You’re not cleared for it,” Knight reluctantly stated. “I can say that what we’ve gathered could very well insure the lives of trillions.”

“So my data is useless?” Romaine asked wearily.

“No, your data is valuable. It’s just of secondary importance because we could have acquired it by other means. Assets like Subcommander Aelynn are valuable and resourceful, but they’re still Romulan patriots and won’t hand over any information that they feel would imperil the Star Empire,” Knight divulged.

“Just who the hell are you anyway?” Romaine wanted to know, “because you sure as hell aren’t Starfleet Intelligence.”

“What makes you think that?” Knight was curious.

“Call it a hunch,” Romaine shot back.

“I feel I owe you a glimmer of the truth, so I will admit that there are layers to Starfleet and some layers are hidden from the average person. Let’s just say you’ve had a brush with something far beyond you,” Knight revealed.

“But…” Romaine started to say.

Knight held up a hand to ward off the question, “That’s all I can say. I’m serious about you joining us though. You wouldn’t have to leave Memory Alpha. You’d just be on call to protect the Federation when asked to.”

“At what price?” Romaine asked sharply.

“You’d have to broaden your paradigm slightly,” Knight shared.

“Is there such a thing as ‘going too far’ with you people?” Romaine wanted to know.

“Freedom comes at a price,” Knight countered. “Most people aren’t willing to pay it.”

“And what is that price?” Romaine inquired.

“Join us and find out,” Knight offered. “Otherwise, get used to not having your questions answered.”

Romaine decided it was going to be a long trip back to Memory Alpha.

Knight offered Romaine another chance to join her shadowy organization one last time. Romaine declined once again, but Knight wore a knowing smile. “We’ll see.”

The Longbow departed and carried Knight away with her. Romaine returned to her duties. Someone had warned off her fellow officers from asking Romaine what had happened on Romulus. They were dying to know, she could tell, but they were literally afraid to ask. Romaine knew it was Knight’s heavy hand again. Her or her mysterious compatriots.

As Romaine had suspected would happen, T’Ling was immediately transferred out of Memory Alpha. The transfer was so immediate, in fact, she left with the Longbow when she broke orbit. It wasn’t a coincidence that T’Ling had packed all of her belongings before departing for Romulus.

Over the next three months, three unexpected events occurred. First, Commander Garth retired. He moved back to Earth and became the Chief Librarian for Starfleet Academy.

Second, Romaine was then promoted to Commander ahead of schedule. And thirdly, she was made Chief Archivist of Memory Alpha. Her surprise and delight ebbed when she received a congratulatory note from Knight. She felt the hand of manipulation again, but she also shrugged it off. Her new position could serve her newfound interests.

Romaine began to dig deeper into Starfleet’s Bureau of Personnel database. Mercy Knight didn’t exist. Her file and transcripts had disappeared. But a woman matching her description did, or had, existed.

Lt. Miranda Graves was a dead ringer for Knight. She’d apparently died in a shuttle accident on Izar. She’d been one of the first graduates of the Advanced Tactical Training Center. She had been awarded medals, citations, and letters of merit with no events attached. So Miranda Graves, like Mercy Knight, stank of covert ops.

Romaine realized that shuttle accidents could be arranged. Cloning of enough tissues could provide DNA evidence to substantiate a death. Graves had been far too competent to be caught by a hidden bomb. Basically, Miranda Graves had died so Mercy Knight could be born.

The question was why had Romaine been allowed to discover these facts? She knew it had been a controlled and intentional oversight not to erase Graves’ records. Whoever Knight worked for wasn’t that sloppy. They were playing a game with Romaine, still inexorably trying to draw her in.

And that begged the question of what kind of organization could convince a loyal and patriotic officer like Graves to fake her death and serve them as Knight. Personnel files seemed to be altered at will and fake orders generated at a whim. Who had that kind of access and power?

Also disturbing was the Longbow being equipped with the stolen cloaking device. Starfleet had made it official policy not to pursue cloaking technology. Part of the reason was idealistic. Starfleet operated in the open. They shouldn’t have to resort to skullduggery. And of course, there was the matter of having to admit where they’d acquired the technology.

It was also a matter of priorities. Cloaking devices were a first strike weapon. Starfleet’s primary function was exploration. Defense was a secondary priority. And defense meant what it sounded like. Defense was not offense.

Romaine had decided to unearth the powers that be from the shadows where they lingered. Unsurprisingly, after a few months of probing, she got a message from Knight. Knight seemed genuinely pleased to be speaking with her.

“Congratulations, Mira. I can tell you you’re on the right trail. In fact, you’ve come closer to the truth than anyone has in decades,” Knight bubbled. “I’m authorized to tell you everything if you’re ready to listen.”

“What’s the price?” Romaine warily asked.

“You give up your safe little career and use your talents in defense of the Federation full-time,” Knight shared. “And I can also tell you this is a one-time offer. Take it or leave it.”

Romaine graphically described which orifice Knight could shove her offer into. Knight was a little discouraged. “Don’t continue wasting your talents, Mira.”

“I’m not,” Romaine grated.

“I’m sure you intend to chase us down and bring us into the daylight. I can freely advise you not to bother. It could be dangerous to continue your pursuit,” Knight warned.

“Is that a threat?” Romaine sought clarification.

“A possibility,” Knight deflected. “A very real one.”

“I think we’re done here,” Romaine decided.

“Just think about it, Knight requested before signing off.

Romaine was more determined than ever. She vowed to uncover the secrets and hidden agendas or die trying. What she hadn’t realized yet was that could become a reality far sooner than she suspected.

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Please send feedback and other correspondence regarding this story to Brin_Macen at yahoo dot com.

"In the Shadows" Chapter Four / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

A few hours after their arrival, the Starfleet team was roused by their Romulan minders. Agent Moren gathered them up and once again they used a military transport to traverse the city of Ki Baran. The enclosed space of the transport’s passenger compartment was also completely shrouded so that the Federation specialists couldn’t see anything as they passed over it.

The transport settled down and Moren opened the hatch. Romaine led the others out of the transport. She found they had arrived at a pristine-looking multistoried glass building surrounded by a glen of trees and grasses.

“This is lovely,” Romaine confessed.

Moren beamed with pride. “It is the city’s central library. We take great delight in it.”

“You don’t have all of your literary works and factual treatises on your central commnet?” Romaine wondered.

Moren’s visage darkened a bit. “No. Certain works are widely available, but the bulk of our factual documents are housed in repositories such as these. Here, one can find the digital copies and the original written tomes that were produced before the digital age swept over us.”

“And this way you get to control who accesses the information,” Romaine guessed.

“Very astute, Commander,” Moren mused. “I suppose the lofty Federation hasn’t such controls in place.”

Romaine wore a bemused expression. “Actually, our facility houses data and documents that are considered ‘too provocative’ to be allowed access to unauthorized personnel. Fortunately, there aren’t many cases like that and authorization is relatively easy to come by.”

“A pity,” Moren commented. “I had unexpectedly begun to have some respect for your culture. You have just dashed my hopes of reaching an understanding.”

Romaine gazed around. “I can’t help but notice that troops have surrounded the building.”

Moren fed her the often-said line, “That is to insure your safety.”

“Wouldn’t it be safer to say you’re protecting your people from us?” Romaine gibed him.

“Perhaps,” Moren allowed.

Romaine sighed, “Somehow I think today is going to be one exceptionally long day.”

“It may indeed,” Moren mused philosophically.

She found she hated him for all the same reasons she’d hated Knight.

“What kind of weapon did Kirk use to destroy the entity?” an intelligence analyst shouted.

“None!” Romaine finally raised her voice after he’d posed the same question five times already. “You have the Enterprise’s sensor logs and Admiral Kirk’s after action report. They say the same thing I’m telling you.”

“These are obvious forgeries,” the analyst scoffed. “No entity with this much strength would simply…vanish!”

“That’s what happened,” Romaine grated. She really wished T’Ling could handle this portion of the briefing but the Romulans were great respecters of the chain of command. In fact, Romaine had observed that while the Vulcans employed the use of logic and absolute suppression of emotion to quell their passions, the Romulans used martial discipline to achieve the same effect.

While that made her the mouthpiece for the Federation team in their eyes, she was also discovering that they were hard-headed sons of bitches. They couldn’t grasp even the simplest concept outside their established paradigm. It was infuriating.

“Look!” Romaine tried again, “V’Ger effectively mapped out our galaxy. Rather than just travel to another, it shifted itself into a parallel reality. Who knows exactly why, but it did. We’ll have to ask it when we cross over the dimensional barriers and arrive in another quantum universe.”

“A pretty face and a pretty tongue to espouse Federation lies,” another “expert” chimed in.

“I appreciate the fact that you find me attractive, but can we focus on the material at hand?” Romaine fired off a salvo of her own.

“You claim this entity was composed of technology beyond our reckoning, yet you also claim that its centerpiece originated on your backwater home world,” yet another voice added to the debate. “How is that so?”

“We don’t know,” Romaine admitted. Seeing all of the astonished stares directed at her she threw up her hands, “We don’t! Earth launched a series of Voyager probes three centuries ago. Somehow — no one knows how — this simplistic probe traversed the cosmos and was found by an alien civilization that modified and highly augmented it and sent back toward Earth. How that was accomplished when it had no thrust is a topic of heated debates like this one.”

“It had no thrust?” A fourth, who’d been introduced as an engineer, sought clarification.

“It was on a ballistic course when it left Earth’s solar system. It hadn’t even migrated out of Sector 001 when its handlers lost track of it,” Romaine explained. “Quite simply, it was declared ‘lost’ for all intents and purposes until it showed up back on our doorstep.”

There was a lot of muttering and grumbling. Finally, the Romulan with the most clout asked yet another question. “What was the purpose of this probe?”

“The same as Starfleet’s. To seek out new life,” Romaine answered wearily.

“Isn’t it true this probe was launched with the sole purpose of gathering intelligence on alien cultures so that Earth could conquer them?” the intelligence analyst barbed.

“Of course! That’s it!” Romaine laughed a little hysterically, “That’s why we marched all over Romulus and Remus when we had the chance.”

There was a general outcry over this that basically amounted to, “You’d never stand a chance.” Romaine opted to take this as an encouraging sign.

Moren intervened at long last. “Enough of this prattle. The Commander doesn’t know what’s beyond her brief. She wasn’t there and she certainly isn’t an expert in these areas.” Moren chastised them all, “Now show them the flight telemetry.”

“I object,” the intelligence guru declared. “Why equip our enemies with knowledge they could use to construct another of these monsters and send it towards the Star Empire?”

“Do you really believe the Federation has the wherewithal to construct one of these entities?” Moren inquired sharply.

“No, but they might be able to,” the analyst asserted.

“Be silent!” Moren commanded. “I don’t have time for your prattle. Now show them the data.”

“But…” another expert protested.

“Are you questioning my authority in this matter?” Moren asked in a soft, yet distinctly threatening, tone.

Information was released to the archivists’ data slates. Chief amongst the items was a parabolic course projection for V’Ger before it entered Klingon territory. It had traversed the territory of the Holy Order of Kinshaya before plunging into Imperial space. Romaine and the others had never heard of the Kinshaya. The fact that the Romulan Star Empire was on good enough terms with them to have this sort of telemetry was telling.

The projection theorized an entrance into the Beta Quadrant from the Delta Quadrant. Just as Starfleet’s ventures into the Beta Quadrant were severely limited, their knowledge of the Delta Quadrant was completely lacking.

The obnoxious analyst theorized V’Ger originating from the depths of the Delta Quadrant. What he said was of limited interest. What he didn’t say was intriguing. The Romulans had no firsthand knowledge of the Delta Quadrant or its races, either.

The Romulans concluded their portion of the briefing and Romaine and the Starfleet officers were herded into an antechamber. Taurig was quick with a comment. “Now they’re going to shoot us for sure.”

“Not necessarily,” Romaine replied. “I think the Romulan Praetor is actually on our side. Or at least enough to keep us alive as a goodwill gesture.”

“I don’t know,” Pollachek griped. “You antagonized the hell out of them.”

“Who was the one always advising me to never show a weakness to Romulans?” Romaine pointedly asked.

Pollachek’s cheeks colored but he stayed quiet.

Standish quietly spoke up. “Whatever happens next, I think our trip here just ended.”

“Commander, Agent Moren is fast approaching,” T’Ling broke her silence.

Moren entered with a rueful smile. “It seems you shall be returning home earlier than originally anticipated.”

“How soon?” Romaine asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” Moren informed them. “It would be sooner, but Commander Alera has other important business to attend to. Seeing as how she is your official minder between borders, you shall remain overnight.”

“This could have gone a lot easier,” Romaine commented.

“Nonsense,” Moren chuckled. “Now our vaunted ‘experts’ know you have a spine. A lesson they should already have learned from historical experience.”

Moren went on, saying he regretted that the information exchange had to end so abruptly, but such were the political winds on his world. Romaine hardly heard him. She’d synched her data slate into the library computers and that link was still active. It had to be.

Because she only had tonight in which to accomplish her mission. She didn’t have time to test out the rhythms of the library’s nocturnal browsers. She had to commit and launch her own probe this very evening. She’d never get another chance.

Romaine bid everyone an early night after the evening meal. Standish was a bit surprised, especially when she was put in charge of making certain everyone packed and was ready to go in the morning. Taurig gave a non-committal grunt as he and Pollachek, seemingly over their differences, tried to coax Standish and T’Ling into a game of gin rummy.

The first thing Romaine did after securing her door — she’d found the lock pick could lock items as well as the reverse — was change out of her uniform. She wore black utility pants with a grey tunic. It resembled an Imperial military uniform as it was designed to. She slipped on the black jacket marking her as an officer and also draped a duster-like cloak over it. The cloak had a copious hood in case she needed to disguise her ears and decidedly pink complexion as she moved through the public.

Romaine had already opened up the biometrically sealed computer and retrieved the lock pick. She slipped that into a cylindrical pouch on her belt. Now she retrieved the phaser. The spare power back went into another pouch in the small of her back while the phaser itself glided into a half-holster. It had a rounded receptacle for the emitter while the body was held like the last generation of Type II phasers and merely adhered to the length of her belt.

She slung a messenger bag’s strap over her torso. Romaine really wished all of this would prove unnecessary but Knight had stressed to be prepared for the ugly incident before it occurred. So she sat down at her “desk/table” and called her data slate out of “standby” mode. It showed it was still linked into the Romulan library catalog. Romaine allowed herself a slight smile. Now she had to decide what to do.

Her next act could provide an excuse for a war no one wanted. It could also get her and her entire team executed. She suddenly mused that this was hell of a burden to throw on top of a glorified librarian.

Still, it was a task custom designed for a librarian/archivist. She wasn’t after military secrets, after all. Just maps and coordinates. She thought she’d be able to throw trade routes in as well since those would give an indication of the flow of resources. A list of colonies couldn’t hurt either, she decided.

Knowing she’d already committed herself, Romaine plunged into the actual work.

The hammering at the door began as Romaine was beginning her withdrawal out of the library network. Despite having a translation matrix, and not tripping over any alarms that she could detect, the system had suddenly locked her out and was trying to trace her signal.

She quickly disabled the transceiver. She removed the actuator so the transceiver couldn’t be remotely activated either. This also had the effect of disabling it so her position couldn’t be given away even by accident.

Romaine stuffed the data slate into the bag she wore. Pulling her phaser free, she checked its settings. It was currently setting for “minimum disrupt,” also known as “stun.” She thumbed up the power level and took aim at her computer case. Firing, she slagged the case. Its metals components melted as the polymers and plastics burned. She took aim directly at the crystal core and fired.

Although nothing was stored on the data core, she had to make it look as though there had been. So while the Tal Shiar’s analysts sifted through its stored code, their attention would be diverted from her. Still, she acknowledged, the whole damn planet was going to be dogging her heels. She had to get out and get out now. It was just that the only entrance/exit to the bloody room was currently blocked.

Romaine heard the lock cycle. She thumbed down her phaser’s setting through sheer reflex. The door slid open and she fired on the first guard she saw. One fell and another took aim. Still poised in a modified Weaver stance, Romaine shifted her aim to her left and dispatched the second guard into slumber land.

She heard shouts as more guards filed into the barracks. Keeping her own phaser in hand, she approached the fallen guards and retrieved their disruptors. Setting them at the table, she laid her own phaser down where she could easily scoop it up. She thought she had just enough time to accomplish her task.

Exposing the disruptor’s power cell, she first pulled the power pack free. Then she crosswired the terminals and flipped the polarity switch. Now the disruptor would build a massive feedback and detonate.

She began work on the second disruptor when she heard footfalls and a muttered curse approaching. She snatched up her phaser and waited. Controlling her breathing like she’d been taught her heart still raced and the blood pounded in her ears. She knew the nausea was from the adrenalin coursing through her veins. Yet that same adrenalin was giving the sharpened senses and reflexes she needed to accomplish her task.

The newest Romulan swung around the corner. Her disruptor lashed out blindly in an arc across the room’s confined space. Romaine instinctively dropped to one knee and waited for the Romulan to present her torso. Romaine was rewarded for her patience a few seconds later.

She could hear hushed whispers beyond the door frame as the guards conferred. Romaine slapped the power cell back into the altered disruptor. She then came to the doorway and tossed the disrupter around the frame. There was a sudden shout and Romulans scattered.

Romaine saw that one of them ran into her room. He gave a startled look around, trying to deduce where she could have gone. His shoulders slumped as he turned around in resignation.

The rigged disruptor detonated and energy washed throughout the open areas of the barracks. Romaine saw the Romulan perk up. She shook her head sadly and shot him.

Romaine modified the other disruptor while confusion reigned. She picked it up and lifted up her own phaser as well. She jacked up the power setting on her phaser to “maximum disrupt” and fired at the rear wall of her quarters. The wall vaporized as its atomic cohesion came undone.

Romaine was free to move now. She spotted a couple of military transports parked alongside the barracks. She slipped the power cell into her other modified disruptor and slid it under a transport. She then ran away.

The explosion that lit up the night sky further plunged the Romulan security forces into disruption. Crowds began littering about outside so her exit was camouflaged. After walking a few blocks, the crowds had thinned. They were mostly headed for the sights and sounds of destruction.

The riot sentries were being deployed to push the populace back, so there was a logjam as the retreating crowds ran headlong into the approaching crowds. Things were getting tense and civil unrest was mere moments away.

Romaine found an air car and unlocked it. She disabled the positioning beacon and then used the lock pick to activate the ignition. She flew off and headed off into the overhead traffic lanes.

She fished the data slate out of her messenger bag and scrolled through its menu options. Finding the one she wanted, she set course for the arranged destination. She had to manually fly the car since the missing positioning beacon cut the autopilot off from the Global Traffic Network.

Romaine soon discovered that Romulans were very aggressive drivers. She’d thought her fellow Martian colonists had an exclusive claim to that honor, but these people drove like they were in a professional race. Romaine had raced some as a teenager so she recognized the mentality. It was a cutthroat world and every opportunity for advancement would be seized.

She landed a dozen blocks away from her destination. She walked the rest of the way. Fortunately, her hood and cloak weren’t unusual in the Romulan night. Eventually, she arrived at a tavern. She thought a public house was an odd choice for a rendezvous, but she knew Knight knew what she was doing.

She entered without any fuss and she chose a booth in the back of the establishment. She couldn’t see the entrance, but she could unobtrusively observe anyone that entered the room. Here, hooded features were a rarity. She knew the longer she stayed, the more she was in danger of being discovered. And it wasn’t like she could fake her ears, so they’d know right away.

A Romulan woman wearing an insufferably familiar smirk sauntered Romaine’s way. She came to stand at Romaine’s table and she placed a hand on the table top. “Do you mind if I have a seat?”

The statement wasn’t shocking. The fact that it was spoken in Federation Standard was. Romaine panicked.

The Romulan plopped down without permission. “Have no fears, Commander Romaine. I am your contact.”

“Who are you?” Romaine blurted.

The Romulan laughed lightly. “I don’t think that’s the question you have for me. Think and the proper question will be recalled.”

Romaine was embarrassed. She’d forgotten the damn code phrase. Rummaging around in her own mind she finally stammered the expected phrase.

The Romulan dutifully gave her counter sign despite threatening to break out into a fit of hysterical laughter at any second. “Have no worries, Commander. I shall get you out of here. But we must leave now. The subspace bands and public address nets are full of your acts of ‘terrorism and sedition.’ Already calls for war have arisen.”

Romaine blanched and the Romulan gave her a wry grin. “Have no fears. There are always call for war.” She rose. “Follow me.”

They exited the tavern and the Romulan tapped a wrist comm. “Aelynn to Darkstar. Two for a site to site transport.”

“It’s about time, Subcommander,” a gruff voice replied. “They’re closing down the launch windows.”

“Then transport us already so we can be away,” Aelynn sighed.

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"In the Shadows" Chapter Three / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

The Memory Alpha team met Romaine with excitement. Taurig wanted to know how the food had been. Pollachek inquired as to what Romaine had learned while away. Standish wanted to know if she’d “met any babes”. T’Ling, though…T’Ling was surprisingly complacent.

When Romaine had a quiet moment after the staff briefed her on their progress and their preparations for tomorrow’s departure, Romaine questioned T’Ling’s apparent lack of interest.

T’Ling arched an eyebrow. “Do not mistake my lack of inquires as a lack of interest. You did not seem predisposed to directly answering inquiries, so I refrained from asking any.”

Romaine was once again impressed with the Vulcan’s insight. “Okay, good answer. Just for that, I’ll answer one question if I can.”

“Very well,” T’Ling accepted. “Do you feel adequately prepared for the task ahead?”

Romaine struggled to keep a straight face. What did T’Ling know about her multiple missions? Did she suspect something?

“I feel I’m fully prepared,” Romaine managed to answer honestly.

“Let us hope you are,” T’Ling replied and excused herself.

“Just who the hell are you?” Romaine wondered aloud.

The next day, the archivist team transported aboard the USS Lexington. The Constitution-class starship hadn’t begun the refits that had so drastically altered the Enterprise. All new Constitution-class hulls would be built along the refit lines and the original starships would also be rebuilt to fit the new design.

Captain Dexter O’Reilly was still ecstatic about his ship though. The Captain made it quite clear they would have to drag him out of her in order to begin the rebuilding process. He’d met the Memory Alpha team in the transporter room and helped his yeoman, one Peter Burnett, guide the team to the ship’s guest quarters.

Romaine had served aboard a ship of this type, so she knew approximately where those quarters would be. However, every CO designated which of the crew’s quarters would be allotted to visitors, so there was always the random element of chance that something completely out of the norm had been decided.

O’Reilly explained to the team that they were already en route to the Romulan Neutral Zone. The starship would stay on station at the border for four weeks, even though they were only embarking on a two-week mission. Starfleet’s orders were specific that they were not to cross the Neutral Zone regardless of any provocation.

Romaine felt the weight of Knight’s constant warnings bearing down on her. She did her best to ignore it and put on a brave front, but inside she was terrified. No one else seemed to notice the stark terror in her eyes. It seemed to be coming off as normal anxiety.

That myth was dispelled when T’Ling visited her assigned guest quarters. The Vulcan had said she wanted to discuss something with Romaine. Romaine was left stunned by the Vulcan’s opening statement.

“Commander, the Romulans will detect your terror. You must control yourself or you will jeopardize our position with the Tal Shiar,” T’Ling began.

Romaine ruefully thought that she wondered why she even bothered trying. T’Ling also seemed to sense this as well. “Do not disparage yourself, Commander. You are fraught over dealing with a hostile culture. Such distress is a given. However, the Tal Shiar will prey upon it.”

Romaine recalled from T’Ling’s briefings that the Tal Shiar were the Romulans’ secret police. Sort of like Earth’s Gestapo, KGB, and foreign intelligence agencies combined. She said it was believed by some circles that the Director of the Tal Shiar wielded as much power with the Praetor as the Proconsul.

“It seems to be natural for everyone but you, Ensign,” Romaine remarked ruefully.

“My facade of pure logic is useful in that regard, Commander. My training and discipline enable me to control my emotional expressions, but those emotions are still present. Even now, they are on the verge of spinning out of my control,” T’Ling admitted. “We are all in the unknown now. What happens next may shift the nature of the relations between our nation state and that of the Star Empire.”

“That’s still a cold comfort, T’Ling,” Romaine said dryly.

“It was not my intention to comfort you, Commander,” T’Ling expressed, “only to advise you that the Romulans, and especially the Tal Shiar, will expect nervousness on your part. But only to a certain degree. After that threshold is exceeded, their suspicions will be aroused.

T’Ling left at that point and Romaine was left wondering once again why she had volunteered for her “extracurricular” assignment.

It took a few days to traverse the Alpha Quadrant and arrive at the Romulan Neutral Zone. The Lexingtonwas hailed by Starfleet’s Observation Command staff. Starfleet traffic in the region had increased recently. Several starbases were being built near the zone with accompanying starships that would be assigned to them. Usually a starbase received one to three starships under its nominal control. This was especially true of these starbases since their assigned ships would be conducting border patrol sweeps.

The Lexington’s captain acknowledged the observer’s scrutiny. O’Reilly squinted over the bare essentials of the data regarding his ship’s current assignment. The commodore receiving these orders informed O’Reilly that she was well aware of why he was there. A Romulan flagged D7 was lingering near the Neutral Zone. She’d send a message for them to contact the Lexington and arrange for the personnel transfer.

The Lexington dispatched a shuttle into the Neutral Zone. While the Romulans had agreed not to penetrate the zone with their starship, and insisted upon the same from Starfleet, they did allow the shuttle to approach within transporter range of the Romulan side of the border.

The Memory Alpha team stood by as the shuttle crew communicated with the Romulan cruiser. It had an ominous ring that the cruiser’s Romulan name translated into Dagger Thrust in Federation standard. The Starfleet officers felt the tug of the transporter and it was strangely new and overly familiar at the same time.

The Memory Alpha team materialized to find themselves staring down two armed guards. A rather amused woman was standing next to the transporter tech. Her amusement seemed to grow by the second as the Starfleet personnel tried to ascertain what kind of situation they’d suddenly been thrust into.

“Oh, do behave,” the Romulan officer scolded her security personnel.

The guards lowered their weapons but they didn’t holster them, either. The ranking officer stepped out from behind the transporter control console. Her uniform surprised the Starfleet officers. The ablative armor the security guards wore distracted from the fact the Romulan military had also altered its uniform code since the Enterprise’s fateful encounter with their forces.

Gone were the faux togas and body wraps. This woman wore a simple grey tunic with dark pants. Over the tunic she wore a black jacket that the others lacked. She also wore a gun belt. A disruptor was holstered halfway between her hip and her knee. Her ease with it seemed to demonstrate her acceptance of its intended purpose.

“I am Commander Alera,” she announced in Romulan. The team’s universal translators rendered the words in Federation Standard. “I command this vessel. I hold the lives of its crew, and now yours as well, in my hand. Do not give me cause to close my hand.”

Romaine thought it best to derail any and all tensions. “I’m Lt. Commander Mira Romaine. I’m here to vouch for the conduct of my fellow officers.”

Alera nodded while holding Romaine’s eyes in a sharp gaze. “Very well, Commander Romaine. You shall be responsible for them and you shall be responsible to me.”

Alera tapped a control on her wristband. “Subcommander Elic, report to the transport chamber.”

She turned back to Romaine. “My second will be here in a moment to sort you out. Do as he says as though I am saying it. Understood?”

Romaine tipped her head. “We understand and will comply.”

“Good,” Alera snorted and exited the room.

Subcommander Elic met the Memory Alpha researchers with open disdain. He led and they followed. Of course, the armed guards trailing them would probably shoot any stragglers. He brought them to a dead end corridor.

“These three rooms are our only guest accommodations,” Elic said diffidently. “You will decide how to distribute them amongst yourselves.”

“What areas of the ship are we restricted from?” Romaine asked.

Elic laughed harshly, “You are restricted from the entire ship. Guards will monitor this corridor. You have access to one another’s rooms. Do no attempt to stray out of these accommodations or you will be dealt with.”

Romaine could tell that being dealt with implied a permanent solution. “Very well. How far are we from Romulus?”

“You should have done your homework already, human.” Elic spat the last word.

Romaine suddenly recited the actual distance in both kilometers and their Romulan analog. She gave him a wry look. “What I was really wondering is how long it would take us to get there. Starfleet estimates three days there and three days back, which would leave us four days to transfer the data.”

“You are lucky you will even have that,” Elic snapped and stormed off.

The team appraised their surroundings. There were three nondescript doors facing them. There were also two guards whose hands couldn’t stray away from their disruptors. They were in the mood for some sport and Romaine’s team might occupy them for a few seconds.

“Standish, you and T’Ling grab a room. Pollachek and Taurig, you’re roommates now,” Romaine ordered.

“But he snores,” Pollachek accused Taurig.

“Like you don’t?” Taurig riposted. “And what makes you think bunking with her will be any better?”

“At least she’s more pleasant to wake up to,” Pollachek shot back.

“Gentlemen,” Romaine impatiently interjected, “settle this inside of your quarters.”

They settled down with some good-natured grumbling. The next three days — and it did indeed take three days —were largely spent hopping between rooms. T’Ling’s arcane knowledge of all things Romulan came in handy during meals. She was the only one who could read the food dispenser’s menu and she also knew what the dishes were.

At the end of their voyage, Alera contacted the Starfleet team and ordered them to prepare for transport. Elic shepherded them back to the transporter. This time, he goaded them in an attempt to provoke an incident that would be deemed worthy of their deaths.

Alera stood by, waiting inside of the transport chamber. She waved her hand and the guards prodded Romaine’s team onto the pads. It seemed Alera was coming with them.

A rather severely dressed male Romulan awaited them at their destination. Four other Romulans stood by, two male and two female. Romaine idly wondered if this was a response to the composition of her team. The Romulan in the foreground broke into a smug smile.

“It seems you have developed a sense of urgency after all, Commander Alera,” he said with hidden meaning.

“I serve the Empire,” Alera replied. “The Praetor guides the Senate. The Senate serves the people, and the proconsul and the Tal Shiar serve the Praetor. So when the Tal Shiar beckons, I will comply as though ordered to by the Praetor herself.”

Alera cocked an eyebrow at the Romulan provocateur. “But you already knew this, Agent Moren. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have sent me on this fool’s errand.”

“You military officers are so closed-minded and parochial. We stand to gain quite a bit from these Starfleet archivists. Things that could ensure we can defeat a foe that humbled both the Klingon Defense Force and Starfleet,” Moren countered.

“Starfleet bested the entity,” Alera retorted, “and it never drew near to our territory. So why the alarm?”

“Wouldn’t you like to learn how Starfleet defeated it?” Moren asked condescendingly, “or has that thought never occurred to you?”

“Like they’ll tell you!” Alera spat.

Moren chuckled. “Their species are wonderfully naive. They’ll tell us anything we want to know in the name of peace and friendship.”

“Why are we discussing this in front of them?” Alera’s hindbrain suddenly kicked in. “Their bloody universal translators are giving them everything we say.”

“Do you think I’m really that great a fool, Alera?” Moren was pained by the thought. “A damping field has shut down their translation devices. They will not reactivate until I allow them to do so.”

“Why did you ask for me?” Alera wondered. “Elic could have handled this handover. It’s his place, not mine.”

“What is your impression of these people?” Moren suddenly asked.

“I would hardly call them ‘people’. They are our inferiors, just as the officials dictates have spoken of for a century,” Alera proclaimed.

“You of all people should know better than that, Commander,” Moren softly chided.

Alera’s cheeks burned. Most were too afraid to mention the accursed contamination in her gene pool. Her sister shared her bloodline, yet she’d not only come to terms with it, she’d embraced it. Which is why Aelynn was merely a first officer on a misbegotten privateer scout.

“Is this a test of my loyalties?” Alera wanted to know.

Moren sighed, “Hardly. Your faithfulness to the orthodox way is well proven. What I am hoping for is some insights into these creatures based upon inside information you should possess.”

“They are weak,” Alera asserted. “They deserve to live out their lives as slaves to a proper house.”

Moren sighed, “This is gaining me nothing. Perhaps I should have asked Elic to come down after all.”

Alera’s eyes narrowed at the slight. “If you and your fellow agents have things in hand, my troops and I will return to our ship. We will be here when you should require our services again.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Moren replied half-heartedly.

Moren turned to face the Starfleet officers as Alera and her soldiers transported out. He activated the control on his wristband. “I think you should be able to understand me once again.”

“Trouble in Paradise?” Romaine quipped.

“Commander Alera feels she has a lot to prove and compensate for. Sometimes her zeal outweighs her practicality,” Moren shared.

“And what happens now?” Romaine asked warily.

“You have arrived in the middle of the night here in Ki Baran,” Moren revealed. “Now you will be taken to your assigned domicile and await the dawn where you will begin work on our joint project.”

“Interesting that you refer to it as a joint project,” Romaine commented. “Especially since I’ve come under the impression that we’re simply here to do you a service.”

Moren smiled. It was more like a lazy cat assessing its prey. “Nonsense. We have data you have no other means of acquiring. And you have the same in regards to us. So we have a meeting of the minds and perhaps our cultures reach a state detente if not trust.”

“Well said,” Romaine said skeptically. “Let’s see if it actually happens.”

“It will,” Moren assured her. “Now if you would all follow me, I have transportation to your barracks arranged.”

Romaine signaled the others and they dutifully traipsed after Moran as he ventured outside. The obligatory guards accompanied them. As stated, the skies were dark, but there were lights all around.

The evening air was cool and humid. Although the Romulans derived from Vulcan’s deserts, they had settled a not-quite-tropical world. Romaine and her team expected high temperatures, uncomfortable for them and quite pleasant for Vulcanoids, and choking humidity.

They traveled by troop carrier to their destination. Romaine was disappointed to discover that they were literally staying in a military barracks. Romulan soldiers surrounded the dormitory.

“Is this really necessary?” Romaine inquired of Moren.

“It is for your own safety, I assure you,” Moren replied.

“I bet,” Romaine said ruefully.

They were assigned to three rooms once again, so the living arrangements remained the same. Romaine was escorted to a small room that was locked. Inside, a communications panel awaited her.

Moren had granted her the chance to send a five minute to message to Captain O’Reilly aboard theLexington. Moren had been quite pleased to boast that the Romulan military knew where the Federation starship was at all times. Romaine could only assume that she was being monitored just as stringently as Starfleet Intelligence had monitored her at the Advanced Tactical Training Center, if not more so.

She had enough time to explain she had no time for pleasantries. She reported that the team had made it safely to Romulus. They were expecting to get five or less hours of sleep and then begin work in the morning. O’Reilly admitted that while he didn’t envy them, he and his crew had been under that kind of pressure before. Romaine was surprised as the comm link was broken.

Romaine sighed as she exited the comm station. She wondered what her crime had been. It had all been innocent enough in her estimation.

Romaine was led back to the team’s temporary quarters. The entire team was gathered in the common area and they looked quite put out. Romaine inquired as to what had happened.

“They searched us,” Taurig grumbled. “Not only did they physically paw at us, but they also manhandled our belongings and equipment.”

Moren suddenly appeared and beckoned for Romaine to approach. She turned to Taurig. “It seems it’s my turn.”

“Screw peace,” Taurig urged. “It’s time to break someone’s hand.”

Romaine sighed as she approached Moren. She knew his hearing was sensitive enough to overhear it, but she didn’t care. These people’s paranoia was getting on her nerves. Elic’s open hostility beat this slippery discrimination any day.

“All right,” Romaine said sourly, “I’m ready to be groped.”

“I assure you that is not our way,” Moren tried to console her, “but even the most modern of scanning technology can be fooled. We can’t leave anything to chance.”

“I’m certain that Starfleet feels the same way about your operatives within the Federation,” Romaine quipped.

“I am certain I have no idea of what you are referring to,” Moren said straight-faced.

“Good boy. Stick to your official lie,” Romaine smarted off.

“I have my Optio standing by to frisk you,” Moren informed her. “She is an Immunes recruited from the Imperial military. Her specialty is criminal investigations.”

“So we’re criminals now?” Romaine sharply inquired.

“You are classified as enemies of the state. So of course you’re criminals. But your freedom is being purchased by the data you carry,” Moren explained frankly.

“Then why not arrest us and just crack the data rods?” Romaine asked.

“Many of my superiors would have me do just that,” Moren admitted, “but the Praetor has instructed the director to try this approach instead.”

“So the Praetor is willing to foster a dialogue between the Star Empire and the Federation?” Romaine guessed.

“The Praetor’s predecessor begrudgingly embraced the concept behind the tripartite colony on Nimbus III. Despite continued misgivings, and the apparent failure of the colony’s aims, our current Praetor does desire to normalize relations between our two states,” Moren explained. “This would include establishing diplomatic relations.”

“I’m surprised you’d even consider a diplomatic mission after what happened to your ambassador on Nimbus III,” Romaine confessed.

“We will never forget what happened,” Moren warned her, “but we can expand our paradigm enough to work around it.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Romaine said at long last. “I’ll pass your message along to my superiors.”

“That, above all else, is why you and your officers were brought here.” Moren wore a tightly controlled smile. “The entity you call V’Ger is just a timely pretext.”

“But you still want our data,” Romaine said cannily.

Moren allowed himself a small chuckle. “Of course.”

Romaine drew herself up. “Okay. Point me at your second.”

“She awaits you in the quarters you claimed for yourself,” Moren divulged.

“Well, if I’m going to be molested, I guess it should be in my own room,” Romaine said darkly.

Moren decided that maybe human humor was more like the Romulan variety than anyone was willing to admit.

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"In the Shadows" Chapter Two / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

Romaine and Knight transported down to New Seattle together. Romaine was slightly curious as to why they had beamed into Izar’s capitol rather than directly to the Advanced Tactical Training Center. Knight merely assured her everything would become clear.

An air car approached and landed near their location. The driver’s gull wing door popped open. “You Knight and Romaine?”

“You already know we are,” Knight glibly replied.

The man smiled, “Too true. Hop in the back. It’s unlocked.”

The two Starfleet officers boarded the car. When the doors were locked, the driver queried traffic control and got permission to enter the traffic grid. The car lifted and climbed into the sky.

They stayed with the local traffic for a time and then the car vectored off and headed towards a wooded area outside of the city. Of course, Izar was also heavily forested. The primary landmass had a water way similar to the Puget Sound on Earth. Given its resemblance to the Terran analog and the heavy forestation that also surrounded both of the natural features on both Izar and Earth, the capitol was placed along the banks of the Anacortes Sound and named New Seattle.

They approached the rather secluded Advanced Tactical Training Center from the air and Romaine got a good look at portions of it. It reminded her of Quantico in Virginian Earth. The Federation Bureau of Investigation trained there. This was almost a duplicate of that base.

Romaine was surprised when they didn’t land. “Where are we going?”

Knight grinned, “There’s advanced tactical training and then there’s specialized advanced tactical training. You need the latter, so we’re proceeding to our facilities adjacent to the main center.”

“Great,” Romaine grumbled.

Romaine learned that her training would be divided into two segments. The first was the physical segment. She would be undergoing endurance training, hand to hand combat instruction, and weapons practice. She’d done all of the above at Starfleet Academy, but those were years long gone. Where once she’d scored fairly highly at these disciplines, now she was more comfortable behind a desk.

Her days became a grueling ordeal of running and forced marches. Afterwards, with only five minutes of rest, she would begin her hand to hand training. When she finished a three-hour stretch at that, she went to the range and practiced marksmanship. Moving targets and live opponents were pitted against her for several hours.

Her nights were subsequently spent in contact with her research team. Garth was delighted that she’d be able to check in for an hour each evening. She didn’t say much about her experiences because Knight had warned her that she was under observation every moment of every day. Her transmission would be terminated if she broached the subject of her current activities.

One interesting aspect of her training was that of vehicular operations. This was an area she easily excelled at. Having an engineer as a father, he’d indulged in owning several air cars, racers, and flyers. So Romaine was well versed in how to operate them. What she learned now was how to break into them and steal them. She graduated from that portion of her training when she finally adopted disabling the positioning beacon as a matter of rote.

Romaine wasn’t panting as hard in the ring after her morning runs and marches at the end of her two weeks as she had at the beginning. She still only got a five minute break to hydrate before she stepped into the sparring ring. This time, she faced Commander Hodges.

Hodges was the most experienced instructor she’d sat under. Hodges was a twenty-year veteran of Starfleet’s Special Operations Command. She learned early on not to make any inquiries into his professional life…or his personal one at that.

Her task was simple. In order to complete her course, she had to land a solid blow on Hodge. That challenge had begun a week ago, and so far she utterly failed at every attempt. She knew today was her last attempt, regardless of Hodge’s threats, but she wanted to honestly win her freedom.

Hodge and Romaine circled one another. He threw the first punch, which Romaine blocked as she reset her position and replied with a knee strike aimed at Hodge’s groin. He taught her early on that there was no distinction between “clean” and “dirty” fighting in the world outside of sports arenas. It was simply life or death.

They exchanged blows and blocks for around two minutes when Romaine shifted to Hodge’s left. He threw a backhand that she caught with her left hand. She employed her right into a chop straight into Hodge’s nose. He looked stunned.

Romaine released his arm and grinned. Hodge suddenly spun on his heels and drove his right fist into her left eye. Romaine was knocked off of her feet. She quickly gathered herself and came up onto her feet in a ready fighting stance.

“Never drop your guard, Romaine,” Hodge’s advised, “You should have gone for my throat rather than my nose. A dead enemy can’t tag you when you get sloppy. Just for that, I’m calling the Infirmary and instructing them to make you wear that bruise for a few days.”

“No,” Knight suddenly interjected as she approached the ring, “you’re not.”

“I outrank you, so the order stands,” Hodge growled.

“And I’m the mission commander,” Knight firmly replied. “Her fellow officers at Memory Alpha are unaware of her current location or that she’s agreed to cooperate with us. Operational security dictates that they stay unaware. A visible black eye will elicit questions we can’t afford to waste time on.”

Hodge looked like he’d swallowed something sour. He turned to Romaine. “Well? What the hell are youwaiting for? Report to the Infirmary and get that eye treated.”

Romaine climbed out of the ring and headed out of the facility. Knight called after her, “Mira, I’m dropping by your quarters tonight. I have some equipment to show you.”

Romaine turned around and nodded to Knight. She then exited the training center and went seek treatment for her eye. It was really starting to ache.

Knight joined Romaine as the archivist was sitting down to a meal. She’d been fairly isolated since her arrival. Knight had explained that Romaine wasn’t a professional operative and the service didn’t want the professional trainees and applicants identifying her as one of them. If they were eventually captured, they could give Romaine up and therefore place her life in peril from enemy operatives.

“Does that really happen?” Romaine dryly asked.

“The Klingons are surgically altering their agents to look like human beings. Look at Arne Darvin on station K-7 and Anna Sandesjo on Starbase 47. Sandesjo was a trusted Federation diplomatic attaché while really being a Klingon Imperial Intelligence agent born under the name Lurqal,” Knight cited. “It happens. Trust me, it happens more often than you’d be comfortable knowing.”

“Okay, I’ll drop it then,” Romaine assured her.

Knight entered Romaine’s dining nook with a Starfleet-issue duffel bag. Romaine could tell it was fully laden. Knight grinned.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked.

“Suit yourself,” Romaine replied indifferently. The truth was, she was glad for the company. The room was equipped with its own synthesizer food slot, so she didn’t really need to exit her room at any time. Romaine had thought about trying to open the door to see if there were guards assigned to keeping her inside, but held back. She thought the truth would be more depressing than the suspicion.

Knight sat down and they ate their meals in hospitable, if not overly friendly, silence. Romaine finished first but held off from interrupting Knight’s meal. She could’ve sworn Knight malingered over her last few bites just to torment her.

Knight broke into a fit of laughter when she finished dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “My God! You’re a warp core breach in progress right now.”

“Not to be rude, but why are you here?” Romaine burst out at long last. “You look like you’ve lugged in enough equipment to build a starship.”

Knight grinned, “Not quite, but you will be constructing a basic component of one.”

“What?” Romaine yelped. “Get my father here instead. He’s the engineer in the family.”

“You actually have a high mechanical aptitude, so don’t balk now,” Knight said with some amusement.

Knight rose and cleared their plates. Recycling the scraps into the synthesizer’s protein sequencer, she replaced the trays and dishes into the cubicle that dispensed them. They’d be sanitized and reused during the next meal.

“You may want to get some caffeine into you,” Knight advised. “This is the beginning of a week-long endurance test. I’m going to show you the technical aspects of tradecraft. We only have this last week to get you prepped and ready, so I’m not going to waste a minute of the day.”

“Ooo-kay,” Romaine said with some apprehension. She dutifully complied with the caffeine order. She opted for breakfast tea despite the late hour. It would dump a heavier dose of caffeine into her than a comparable cup of coffee.

Knight placed a suitcase style computer console on the table. “Open this and see what’s inside.”

Romaine complied but all she found was a fairly standard Starfleet issue portable computer. “I give. What’s special about it?”

“Look below the ten key pad. There’s an indentation in the case. Place your right thumb on it and see what happens,” Knight instructed.

Romaine was rather surprised when the touch screen keyboard unlocked and she was able to detach it from the case. Inside was a small crystalline data core. Hardly the size a model of this type usually boasted. It was just enough to grant the computer an air of legitimacy.

There was also a distinct power cell. And there was a Type II phaser. The data core and the power cell were recessed beneath the swept back rear of the phaser. Its grip formed a barrier between the computer parts and both a spare power pack for the phaser and a small cylindrical device that seemed to have a radial dish atop like the old style deflector arrays of the Constitution-, and as she’d recently learned, Archer-class starships.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Romaine almost stammered. “It’ll be detected.”

Knight pooh-pahhed the idea. “It reads as the computer’s power cell. Even Starfleet can’t detect it. It’s a proven platform that’s been used dozens of times. We do know what we’re doing, after all.”

“But I don’t,” Romaine admitted bleakly.

“That’s why I’m here,” Knight assured. “Now, why haven’t you asked about the case’s other stowaway?”

“I assumed it’s a transmitter of some sorts. Probably a distress beacon,” Romaine ventured.

“Good guess,” Knight replied. “Completely wrong, but it’s a good guess. We’re sending you into hostile territory. There won’t be a Federation starship inside of Romulan territory, so a beacon would be pretty useless. Unless, of course, you wanted the Romulans to pinpoint your exact location.”

“I guess I didn’t think it through,” Romaine said glumly.

“And that’s going to stop. Always remember the primary rule,” Knight counseled her.

“The Prime Directive?” Romaine offered.

Knight bopped her upside the head. “No! The primary rule is ‘nothing is ever what it appears to be.’”

“Okay, I think I can attest to that,” Romaine admitted. “So what is this doohickey?”

“A universal lock pick,” Knight said affectionately. “No door or ignition will be able to keep you out with this baby.”

“That’s why I had the vehicular training,” Romaine realized.

“If you need to make a fast break for it, commandeer a vehicle and head for these coordinates,” Knight said as she handed over a data slate.

“Why?” Romaine asked.

“Because that’s where you’ll meet your emergency contact and they’ll extract you out of the Star Empire,” Knight explained.

“Wait a minute!” Romaine protested. “If you have someone on Romulus, why am I doing this?”

“Because our asset doesn’t have access to this kind of data. You will. It’s simple math, really,” Knight divulged.

“I so hate you right now,” Romaine grumped.

Knight chuckled, “Wait until the week is out. Then you’ll really loathe me.”

“I’m not even going to take that bet,” Romaine grumbled.

“All right, back to work.” Knight dumped a bag of components onto the table. “Next, you’re going to learn how to assemble a subspace transceiver using commonly found components.”

“Is it too early to start loathing you already?” Romaine wondered.

“Much, much too early,” Knight confided.

“Figures,” Romaine bleakly remarked.

The week went by in a flurry of moments. Some moments dragged on endlessly and others warped out faster than Romaine could track. Knight had Romaine keeping up and improving her conditioning.

Romaine started the day with breakfast followed by a five kilometer run. She then got some downtime before returning to the sparring ring. Her regular opponent now was a Lt. Arender sha’Drenhilla. The Andorian was from one of the “male” sexes from his planet. Aren, as he was called, was fast and sneaky. He played a lively game with Romaine and they exchanged unchecked blows. Romaine was learning all the names of the base’s medical staff.

Target practice rounded the tactical portion of her morning and led to lunch. Between the mid-day meal and dinner, Romaine learned the technical aspects of her task. The data slate she’d been given was equipped with a subspace transceiver and a universal translator. It was with this tool that she would tap into the Romulan data nets.

As the week closed and Romaine and Knight were waiting at the transporter pads, Romaine finally asked the question that had been nagging at her. “Why aren’t you going on this mission?”

“You never asked,” Knight brightly grinned. Seeing Romaine’s dissatisfaction with that answer, Knight staved off any further inquiries. “I’ll tell you once we’re ensconced in our quarters aboard the Longbow.”

“I guess that will have to do,” Romaine said with a sense of resignation.

*****

Romaine passed the somewhat familiar faces of the Longbow’s crew in the corridors and in the sections that they worked. Only certain rooms had closing doors. Engineering and the transporter room were two areas with no doors and open access. The ladder well leading to the bridge had no obstacles either.

Sickbay and crew quarters were the only private portions of the ship. Knight made friendly greetings to the crew as she herded Romaine toward their shared room. It was obvious to Romaine that Knight was comfortable with these people. Just out of curiosity, Romaine had looked up the Longbow, her assignment, and her crew during her limited down time.

The crew all had vanilla dossiers like Knights. They gave a lot of information away, but what was more telling was what they didn’t say. Another revealing feature was that the bulk of the crew had been with the ship since it was commissioned. Most of the crew had accepted temporary demotions and were acting in the place of their former grade, and sometimes two grades below, their current rank. That kind of loyalty, to ship and crew, was rare.

The Longbow was currently TDY. That was it. No mention of what department, planet, or starbase the ship was temporarily detached to. Just TDY.

So Romaine was eagerly waiting for Knight to begin her explanation. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long. Otherwise, she might have burst open as Knight had estimated already.

“I can’t go because the Romulans would get suspicious over a last minute change,” Knight offered at first.

“But things happen…” Romaine started to argue.

“Not to Romulans,” Knight drolly put in. “The Romulans chose you. They chose the entire team. Why do you think T’Ling was suddenly swept into the picture? That wasn’t Starfleet’s choice.”

“But how can they…?” Romaine trailed off as dread clenched her gut.

“The Romulans have been active inside of the Federation’s borders for close to a hundred and twenty years now,” Knight revealed.

“But that proceeds the Earth-Romulan War!” Romaine burst out.

Knight dryly appraised her. Romaine gathered herself together. “It’s all right. I’m calm now.”

“That’s good because you’re stuck with going. No one gets out. If they can’t go, it had better be because of a medical emergency or an act of God they couldn’t avoid,” Knight summed up. “And no one gets replaced. If you lose a member for any reason, the remaining team members go on without them.”

Romaine asked the one question she hadn’t dared voice until now. “What if they get what they want out of us and simply arrest us for no reason?”

“Then you pray the Romulans do indeed take prisoners,” Knight replied.

Romaine found the advice to be cold comfort.

*****

The trip back to Memory Alpha took just over a day. Knight saw Romaine to the Longbow’s transporter room where she once again performed the duties of managing the transport to the surface. “This time, you’ll be glad to learn we’re leaving at the proper site. We aroused enough suspicion with your last disappearance.”

“Just how did you explain away my supposedly impossible transport?” Romaine wondered.

Knight smirked, “The transporter logs and the tram schedule dutifully show you used both to reach the surface and beyond.”

“Falsifying records is illegal,” Romaine said sternly.

Knight shrugged. “So’s spying. You get used to it.”

Romaine was less than happy with that answer and it plainly showed. Knight redirected the conversation. “You’re as prepared as anyone can hope to be. I’ll be in touch when this is over to retrieve the data you’ve acquired.”

“And if I’m captured or worse?”

“You’ll get a nice little plaque on the walls of Starfleet Intelligence headquarters on Earth.” Knight’s answer was less than thrilling and she noted it, “Mira, we’re not going to start a war over the fate of one woman. No matter how much we’d feel compelled to.”

Romaine suddenly realized that Knight was personally invested in Romaine’s fate. It wasn’t like Standish and her girlfriend. There was no romance in this. But there was a healthy dose of camaraderie and that feeling Romaine had at the beginning of kinship. Apparently Knight felt it too.

“All right.” Romaine accepted her fate, whatever it was going to be, “I’m ready.”

Knight smiled encouragingly. “Yes, I think you are.”

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The Longbow was currently TDY. That was it. No mention of what department, planet, or starbase the ship was temporarily detached to. Just TDY.

So Romaine was eagerly waiting for Knight to begin her explanation. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long. Otherwise, she might have burst open as Knight had estimated already.

“I can’t go because the Romulans would get suspicious over a last minute change,” Knight offered at first.

“But things happen…” Romaine started to argue.

“But how can they…?” Romaine trailed off as dread clenched her gut.

“The Romulans have been active inside of the Federation’s borders for close to a hundred and twenty years now,” Knight revealed.

“But that proceeds the Earth-Romulan War!” Romaine burst out.

Knight dryly appraised her. Romaine gathered herself together. “It’s all right. I’m calm now.”

Romaine asked the one question she hadn’t dared voice until now. “What if they get what they want out of us and simply arrest us for no reason?”

“Then you pray the Romulans do indeed take prisoners,” Knight replied.

Romaine found the advice to be cold comfort.

“Just how did you explain away my supposedly impossible transport?” Romaine wondered.

Knight smirked, “The transporter logs and the tram schedule dutifully show you used both to reach the surface and beyond.”

“Falsifying records is illegal,” Romaine said sternly.

Knight shrugged. “So’s spying. You get used to it.”

“And if I’m captured or worse?”

“All right.” Romaine accepted her fate, whatever it was going to be, “I’m ready.”

Knight smiled encouragingly. “Yes, I think you are.”

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"In the Shadows" Chapter One / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

Rating: K+

Synopsis: Mira Romaine is on her way to Romulus for a historic exchange of information. Before she leaves, though, a visitor asks her to undertake a second mission while there. What she discovers changes her perspective forever.

"Decisions" Chapter Seven / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

Vallis suddenly let a curse fly out of her mouth. For coming from a nonsexual culture, Riker was surprised that she essentially demanded that he exchange fluids with her again. He finished disabling his device, the last of his allotted weapons, and moved to her side.

“What is it?”He asked jovially.

“This bastard just armed itself,” she said with trepidation in her voice.

“What?” he blurted. “How?”

“If I knew that, it wouldn’t have happened,” she grated. “I think I rushed it too much. You would have gotten ahead of me and I was trying to beat you.”

He noted that Vallis wasn’t laying the blame at his feet. She was simply stating a fact. He gently placed a hand on her back.

“I’m done now, so let’s see if we can diffuse this sucker together,” he offered. “I faced worse hazards then this for eight years on Nervalla IV. Every day was a new adventure. I brushed with death constantly when some piece of equipment failed or overloaded. If it wasn’t that, then the elements and the atmosphere were trying to kill me. What can one bomb do?”

She gave him a grateful smile. “Okay. We can do this. But, just so you know, this thing could eat our flesh if it discharges.”

“I’ll never miss it,” he jested.

“We need to stop the matter-antimatter annihilation. I’ll focus on the injectors and you work on removing the deuterium and antideuterium pods,” she decided.

“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed enthusiastically.

Riker focused on his assigned task. The deuterium pod was easy to seal and disengage. The antimatter pod’s seal was damaged, though. He couldn’t shut it down with the antideuterium. This problem, combined with the disconnected deuterium pod, was making the intermix ratio destabilize and a warp core breach was inevitable if nothing changed.

He stripped the deuterium pod’s seal. Deuterium was basically energized hydrogen, so venting it into the atmosphere wouldn’t create any lasting harm. Using components from that seal, he rebuilt the damaged antimatter seal. He managed to seal off the pod and remove it.

Unfortunately, the intermix ratio had gone wildly out of control. There was too much antimatter and the warp core was dangerously unstable. Vallis was struggling to regain control, but at this point, destruction was a foregone conclusion.

“It’s going to blow,” Riker forced her to realize. “We need to get to a safe distance.”

She shook her head. “We’ll never make it on foot. What we need to do is vent the warp core.”

“Say what?” Her words gave Riker an absurd thought.

“We need to vent the core,” she repeated.

“Can you unlock the magnetic seal around the injectors?” he suddenly asked.

“Yeah, but then the energy will leak through the injector,” she protested.

“Through the injector, through the roof, and out into space,” Riker finished her thought.

“Thereby venting the core!” She grinned, “Not a problem. Hang on!”

She released the magnetic interlocks and scrambled away as a stream of energy burst forth like a volcanic eruption. It blew through the roof and expended itself out into space. Fortunately, air traffic was virtually unknown on Hadon II. The primary risk had been the orbital parking traffic. As it happened, several freighters were close to the expulsion, but they weren’t directly hit by it.

Riker shielded Vallis’ body with his own as fragments from the roof rained down. The whole manor house was shaken by the blast. The structure began to collapse within itself. The suspected Syndicate goons fled the scene. Halifax and Wren sought cover as best they could as they bolted outside.

“I hope Riker and Vallis survived that,” Wren wished.

Halifax was livid. “Of all the idiotic things…”

“Commander, I don’t think now is the time,” Wren advised. “Our first concerns are to secure the remaining weapons and conduct a search and rescue for our crewmates…assuming they’re still alive.”

“Riker had better be alive,” Halifax declared. “I want the satisfaction of presenting that sonuvabitch to a review board.”

Wren cast her a disparaging look, then pulled out her tricorder and started walking into the wreckage of the house.

Several hours later, the Gandhi returned to find the away team shaken but otherwise unharmed. Borien led an engineering team to the surface and was delighted to discover that all of the remaining isolytic weapons had already been disabled. He was also of the opinion that Riker and Vallis’ actions saved the lives of everyone on the planet. Halifax wasn’t as forgiving.

As the engineers began transporting the weapons to the ship, Wren gathered a security team and tore the colony apart as he looked for suspects. She also headed back to the arms cache she and Vallis had stumbled upon. Not surprisingly, the pods were all missing. Tricorders picked up traces of a transporter effect.

Returning to the ship, Wren informed the captain of what transpired. Any of the two dozen transports in orbit could have moved those pods. Or it could even have been transports that departed while the Gandhiwas out of the system. She requested permission to conduct a search and seizure of every ship in orbit. Moneii quietly turned her down.

Moneii was most interested in hearing Halifax’s after-action report. The XO was disturbed as she admitted, “We were successful despite ourselves.”

“I’m afraid I‘ll need clarification on that,” Moneii stated.

“It wasn’t bad enough that the plan was reckless to begin with, but Ensign Vallis nearly detonated an isolytic device on the surface,” Halifax explained. “As it was, she was damn lucky no ships were parked in orbit over the weapon.”

“I thought Lt. Riker’s improvisation was admirable given the circumstances,” Moneii opined.

Halifax snorted derisively, “If it hadn’t been for Riker, we wouldn’t have been there to begin with.”

“And the isolytic warheads might very well be in Cardassian hands now,” Moneii rebutted.

“We could have blocked Ocett without resorting to a ground mission,” Halifax argued. “It was wasteful and irresponsible.”

“And you place the blame squarely at Lt. Riker’s feet?” Moneii asked.

“Yes,” Halifax said in a surly tone.

“So I take it you are withdrawing your recommendation to make him second officer?” Moneii asked.

“Yes, and not only that, I’m about to put such a black mark on his record he’ll never see Lt. Commander,” Halifax declared.

“I may not be able to sign off on his fitness report if you do,” Moneii warned.

“I understand,” Halifax assured her.

Riker was down at the Grimshaw. He’d received his dressing down by Halifax and notification that his planned promotion had been negated. He took another drink of his whiskey. It was the real stuff and he was savoring every drop. He still wasn’t certain why he’d been allowed shore leave, but permission had come straight from the captain, so he didn’t waste time arguing.

“I’ll buy the next round,” Kalinda offered as she came to sit beside him.

“I was wondering if I’d see you again,” Riker admitted. “I assumed you had taken off by now. Guns and all.”

Kalinda smiled. “I just wanted to check in on you first. Besides, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just stopped by for a drink on my way home.”

“And where is home?” Riker wondered.

“Ronara Prime,” she answered. “Ever heard of it?”

“It’s in the Demilitarized Zone. That’s about all I know,” he admitted.

“It used to be a nice place to live,” Kalinda sighed. “Someday it will be again.”

“Why are you really here?” Riker just came out and asked.

“I appreciate what you did with the isolytic burst. That kind of quick thinking is appreciated in certain parts, even if Starfleet is too stupid to recognize brilliance in action,” she declared.

“And just who would the people be in these parts?” he inquired.

Kalinda shared a sly smile with him. “You’ll figure it out when you need to.”

She slid off her stool and left as suddenly as she’d arrived. Twenty minutes later, Wren came storming into the tavern with four security officers. She spotted Riker and went to his side.

“The woman who contacted you earlier about the Cardassian connection, has she been here?” Wren wanted to know.

“Haven’t seen her,” Riker lied despite not quite knowing why he was doing so.

“Well, if you see her, alert me or one of my officers,” Wren instructed.

“What’s this about?” Riker asked.

“She’s a Maquis,” Wren explained.

“And what’s a ‘Maquis?’”

Wren had an exasperated look on her face. “Don’t you follow the news? They’re terrorists that run around the Demilitarized Zone killing anything and everything Cardassian. They’re wanted by both Starfleet and the Central Command.”

“Too bad I haven’t seen her then,” Riker said smoothly.

“For some reason I don’t entirely believe you right now,” Wren admitted, “but scuttlebutt has it you have your own problems right now, so I’ll let it go.”

Riker saluted her with his glass and she and her team left.

Later, in his quarters aboard the Gandhi, Riker began a search of records concerning the Maquis. What he found intrigued him. They were rebels fighting a perceived injustice. He could relate to that.

He pondered Kalinda’s parting words. He wasn’t ready to leave Starfleet just yet. But if he were, he could think of worse fates than helping freedom fighters win back their homes. It was definitely something to think about.

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"Decisions" Chapter Six / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

Wren rushed up to the door. It was an old-fashioned hinged affair. It looked heavy since it had an outer layer of armor. Halifax drew to the left side and aimed her phaser at the doorway. Wren used her own weapon to shoot the deadbolt lock. Turning the knob, she pushed the door slightly ajar.

She did a five count and then reared back and kicked the door open, right into the face of an Acamarian waiting on the other side. Wren shoved him aside and went for the Klingon that lurked behind him. The Klingon posed a greater threat than the Acamarian, who was still struggling to clear his eyes as they watered from the abuse his nose had just taken.

The Klingon readied himself as Wren approached. He wasn’t wearing House armor. Rather, he was garbed in a utilitarian jumpsuit.

Wren slammed the palm of her hand into his nose. The Klingon staggered back and Wren pressed her momentary advantage. She placed a sidekick into his solar plexus and he convulsively blew out the air in his lungs.

A remote part of Wren’s mind analyzed her foe. He had a moderate amount of skill — enough to have been a conscript with the Klingon Defense Force. But he lacked armor and any sign of Imperial insignia, which made him a dishonored renegade of some kind.

She tried a round kick to his ribs but the Klingon blocked the blow. Wren tried a follow through punch but he blocked that as well. He surprised her by using the same hand to throw a jab into her mouth. Her lip split and dark indigo blood began trickling down her powder blue face. Knowing that she didn’t have a moment to waste, she forewent wiping the blood off.

Instead of continuing her frontal assault, Wren dove into a slide tackle and took the Klingon’s legs out with a scissor kick. The Klingon went down, but he caught himself with his hands. She used her left arm to swipe his hands out from underneath him. As he collided face first with the floor, she continued her motion and brought her left arm up above his head and smashed his face back into the floor just as he lifted his head.

She scrambled to her feet as he got to his hands and knees. Reeling back her leg, she kicked him in the ribs for all she was worth. She repeated the move three more times. She heard bones breaking but she didn’t relent. His head was merely hanging when she focused all of her energy to a shot on his face. His head snapped back and then fell to the ground as his body collapsed in a heap. Wren straddled his chest and began to pound his face.

Riker had been dealing with bruised Acamarian during this time. The Acamarian threw a punch and Riker blocked it. His own punch connected. The Acamarian stumbled back. Riker threw a body blow. The Acamarian dropped his defenses so Riker jabbed his face. The defenses came up, so Riker followed up with another body shot. The defenses came down, but this time, they hung heavily. Riker placed a right cross to maximum effect.

Riker shoved the Acamarian to the floor and zip tied his hands behind his back. A screech outside announced the arrival of a wheeled transport. A Nallorite led a ragtag group of armed gunmen through the gates. They were headed for the front door and Halifax wheeled into motion.

“Riker! You and Vallis will find and decommission any weapons that may be stored here. Wren and I will hold them off for as long as we can,” Halifax ordered.

Riker hesitated and Halifax got in his face. “Go!”

He grabbed Vallis and the hurried down the hallway. Wren took up position behind the armored door.

“Now this should be fun,” she said dryly.

“Do you really think the isolytic weapons are here?” Halifax suddenly asked.

Wren wore a whimsical expression. “If not, then we owe these people a hell of an apology.”

Halifax had just enough time to consider that before the first particle beam sizzled through the air. She ordered Wren to return fire and they held the newcomers at the gate.

Riker flipped his tricorder open and it immediately detected subspace radiation. Vallis looked at the displays. “Found anything?”

“Yes, just further down,” he answered.

They reached a set of double doors and opened them to reveal what would have once been a ballroom. Now it was filled with cargo pods. The Precarious had brought three pods with it, which brought the total present here to twelve.

She gave him a horrified look. “How will we…?”

Riker grinned, “We’ll just have to work that much faster.”

Vallis began to wonder if he’d lost his mind while he spent those eight years all alone.

“I’m glad you opted to see reason, Gul Ocett,” Moneii said as she gazed upon the Cardassian woman’s features captured on her desktop display.

“Thank Central Command,” Ocett replied drolly. “They saw the peace treaty as being more important than my mission.”

Moneii noted that Ocett left out exactly what her mission was. Whether it was the official “survey” mission or the suspected collection of the isolytic weapons, it remained unsaid. Moneii wasn’t about to openly accuse Ocett in the name of the same peace that the Cardassian had just alluded to.

“You will be sending us your course and intended speed?” Moneii was careful to present it as a request rather than a demand.

Ocett wore a thin smile. “My officers have already alerted your bridge crew. After all, we wouldn’t want to lose our minders.”

Moneii offered a grim smile in return. “Just consider us your map in case you get lost again and can’t manage to find the border on your own.”

“And I suppose you’ll be staying on station inside of the Hadon system for a time just to ensure that I don’t return?” Ocett ventured.

“Wouldn’t you?” Moneii replied evenly.

“Of course,” Ocett allowed, “but you can’t stay here indefinitely. What if an emergency occurs elsewhere and demands your attention?”

“Then I would suggest that no traces of such an event lead to you,” Moneii warned.

“Of course,” Ocett said silkily. “I have alerted your crew of our intention to depart in five of your minutes. Perhaps we’ll speak further during our journey?”

“Perhaps,” Moneii allowed. “Until then…”

The Starfleet captain terminated the transmission and headed out of her Ready Room to the bridge. “Mr. Boerhoven, stand by to make way.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said as he vacated the captain’s chair.

“Be ready for an ‘unexpected’ emergency to arise,” Moneii advised.

“You think the Cardassians are going to try and pull us away?” Boerhoven asked.

“They’re certainly going to try,” Moneii chuckled, “but Starfleet Command is putting all border patrol vessels on alert. If the Cardassians so much as sneeze wrong, they’ll have a ring of starships around them.”

Boerhoven chuckled. “It would serve them right.”

Moneii arched an eyebrow. “Do I detect a note of vindictiveness?”

“Did you ever serve on the line during the Border Wars?” Boerhoven inquired.

“No, but I did see action against the Tzenkethi,” she said ruefully.

“There are certain similarities between their brands of xenophobia, but where the Tzenkethi want to establish genetic control and domination of every form of life by turning everything into themselves, the Cardassians want to conquer everyone and place themselves as demigods over every other culture,” Boerhoven related to her.

“I think that’s a gross oversimplification,” Moneii chided him.

“Maybe, but it’s a hard won opinion,” Boerhoven protested.

“I’d keep opinions like that to yourself in your new posting,” Moneii advised. “Ship’s XO’s can’t be seen having such racist views. You’re lucky I think you’ll outgrow this absurd opinion or I’d report you to Captain Remick and you might find yourself XO of a ferry tug instead.”

“Duly noted,” he said defiantly. Opting to change the subject, he asked, “Any word from Megan and her team?”

Moneii gave him a curious look. “I thought you and Commander Halifax were on the outs. I expedited your transfer and promotion because of that fact.”

Boerhoven looked pained. “I don’t have anything against Megan. At least not professionally. There were some personal issues that couldn’t be resolved, but I didn’t allow them to interfere with my duties.”

“That’s what she said about herself too,” Moneii mused. “Regardless of how you two thought you were performing, the truth is that you were both affecting performance of the bridge crew. Even moving you to Beta watch didn’t help. So, I foisted you off onto someone else’s lap.”

Boerhoven hesitated and then plunged ahead. “So you’re saying you don’t think I’m ready to be XO yet?”

Moneii’s eyes bored into his. “Mister, if you think I’d jeopardize another command just to alleviate a minor problem with my own, you have another thing coming.”

“Understood, ma’am,” Boerhoven said briskly. “So I take that to mean that there has been no word.”

Moneii sighed. “No. Not a peep.”

“Hold your fire!” a voice called out from the gate. “I’d like to parlay.”

Wren looked to Halifax, who nodded. “Advance and be recognized. And know this: If you make one misstep, I will blow your damn head off.”

The Nallorite stepped forward and straightened his tie. He was dressed in an Iotian suit, circa 2266. He even had a fedora canted on his brow. The grey pinstripe of his suit made his ebon skin stand out even more. As he approached, his ivory teeth seemed to practically shine in contrast to the obsidian-like face.

He reached the porch and Halifax spoke to him. “That’s close enough.”

“If you’ll give me a moment of your time, perhaps we can make an accommodation,” he said. “Captain Halifax, my name is Mercel. I am the local representative for the concern that has a vested interest in the items stored within this structure.”

“First off, it’s Commander Halifax of Starfleet. Second, are you perchance referring to the isolytic warheads inside the house?” Halifax retorted.

His pearlescent teeth shone again. “It seems you know more about our merchandise than I do.”

“Yeah right,” Halifax snorted. “Do your employers happen to go by the title the ‘Orion Syndicate?’”

He chuckled, “My employers prefer their anonymity.”

“I bet they do,” Halifax quipped. “Are they aware that dealing in weapons of mass destruction can earn them life without parole on a penal colony?”

“Commander, let’s be reasonable,” Mercel pleaded. “I can assure you that these items will never be used against the Federation.”

“How can you promise that?” Halifax wondered.

“It was a condition of the sale,” Mercel revealed. “Now, we have already received an advance up front. I’ve been authorized to release a portion of those funds to you and your crew if you just walk away. Think about it: You get a ship of your own, and not just a scut freighter. Why, there might even be opportunities for a ship’s captain like yourself in our organization if you choose wisely.”

“I’ll pass,” Halifax decided.

“I’d suggest you reconsider,” Mercel suddenly urged. There was a hint of menace in his voice now. “The alternative is to face down my people, and we vastly outnumber you. Even if you survive the first incursion by these hapless fellows, I have more readily available. We won’t take prisoners and we won’t stop until every last one of you is dead or dying.”

“Why don’t you just wander back to your safe place behind your gunmen and go to hell?” Halifax wondered.

Mercel shrugged his shoulders. “Have it your way.”

As the Nallorite trudged back to the gate, Wren turned to Halifax. “Are you sure that was the wisest move?”

Halifax was aghast. “You can’t seriously be tempted by his offer?”

“No, but playing along may have bought us some time and reinforcements,” Wren explained. “My power pack is nearly drained and I can’t imagine yours is any better off.”

Halifax checked her power indicator. “Damn.”

“I’ll back your play, but I need to know what it is,” Wren assured her.

“We hold as long as we can and then we fight hand-to-hand with any of those idiots that make it inside,” Halifax ordered. “We need to give Riker and Vallis time to disarm the isolytics.”

“Aye ma’am,” Wren said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, which wasn’t a lot. And frankly, Halifax couldn’t blame her.

“I can’t do it!” Vallis declared as she pulled back away from the second isolytic warhead. “We don’t have enough time!”

Riker put his hands on her shoulders as he sat beside her. She turned to face him and he could see the raw panic in her eyes. He had to stabilize the situation, and fast!

“Look, you wanted your individuality, so you left the only home you ever knew and entered a wider galaxy. That galaxy was filled with more diversity that you even could have dreamt of, but you adapted. You entered Starfleet, wanted to graduate the Academy in two years, and you did it,” Riker reassured her. “You just have to want this that badly.”

She stared into his eyes, saw the confidence he had in her, and settled down. She swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay. I can do this.”

“I know you can,” he insisted. “Just pick up your tools and start again.”

“This would go faster if I had some help,” she admitted. “You have a tool pouch as well, right?”

They both wore tool belts with a basic assortment of equipment. He smirked, “You know I do.”

“Then pay attention.” She guided him through a disarmament and the watched as he did one on his own. She smiled. “You’re a quick study. You’ll do fine.”

“How about I race you?” he suggested. “Three are already disarmed. That leaves nine and you’ve disconnected two and I managed one. That leaves six between us. First one done buys the other one a drink at Grimshaws.”

Intrigued, she smiled. “You’re on.”

Filled with newfound determination, they both went to work.

Halifax fired, pressed the actuation stud and nothing happened. She shook her phaser and turned to Wren, “Dammit! I’m out.”

Wren jostled hers as well. “Looks like I am, too.”

“We’d best set up our ambush points. These idiots will be on us in a few minutes,” Halifax suggested.

They retreated down the hallway. Wren tested a door on the right and it opened. It seemed to be a multimedia room of some kind. She left the door wide open and pressed up against the wall on the other side of the doorway.

Halifax went a little further so they’d be staggered and tried a door. It opened into a den with an old-fashioned library filled with aged books. She thought there must have been a fortune in manuscripts in there.

Shouts announced the arrival of the gunmen. Neither Wren nor Halifax had ever gotten a good look at how many they’d stunned. The whole criminal gang could be ambulatory and coming through the front door for all they knew.

Heavy footfalls sounded throughout the hall as the gunmen approached. They heard doors opening and the footfalls seemed to decrease as doors opened. Wren guessed there were three of them as they began to pass by her doorway.

A Talarian entered the room she occupied and called for the lights. Wren launched herself at him as the lights came up. She inverted the wrist of his gun hand and he cried out in pain. A pair of footfalls came back to the doorway.

Wren stayed close to the Talarian as she pulled his disruptor out of his hand. Unfortunately for her, he still had enough presence of mind to knock the pistol from her hands. She was simply aware of the fact the other gunman was missing from the doorway. Ascertaining that he wasn’t in the room with her, she grabbed hold of the Talarians’s arms and swept his legs out from underneath him.

Wren clamped an arm bar on the Talarian and pushed him down face first into the floor. She wrapped her free arm around his throat and choked off his airway. Knowing it took longer for a Talarian to succumb to such a move, she maintained the hold for ninety seconds and he slipped away into unconsciousness. Afterwards, she bound his wrists behind his back with one of her last zip ties. Retrieving the disruptor, she went to check on Halifax.

While Wren engaged the Talarian, Halifax came out of the den at a dead run and shoulder checked the Bajoran who’d been trying to enter. Halifax was almost surprised to discover the Bajoran was female. So far this had been a “men’s only” club of crooks.

Seeing that another Bajoran stood in front of Wren’s hidey hole, she twisted the woman in front of her as the man targeted her. Particle beams struck the Bajoran woman in the back. Halifax was horrified to see the life die out of the Bajoran’s eyes yet she was also grateful that it wasn’t her.

She threw the body at the gunman and dove into the den. The other Bajoran uttered several oaths that Halifax assumed were curses in his native tongue. He ran to the den’s doorway and unleashed dozens of shots into it. The smell of burnt leather and parchment filled the air. Fires started on the bookshelves and the fire retardant system activated.

As a hazy mist filled the space, the Bajoran called for the lights. Halifax chose that moment to make her move. She came into the Bajoran and kneed him in the groin. He went down with a gurgle and she picked up his abandoned disruptor and shot him in each arm and leg. She figured that would keep him busy and out of the way.

Halifax went to the doorway. Leaning against the frame furthest away from the front door, she spotted Wren down the hall. She’d been tucked into a move opposite of Halifax’s, trying to peer into the den. Halifax gave her a thumbs up. Wren flashed the same gesture.

Wren looked at her weapon’s power indicator. It read that it a third of a charge left. Apparently the Talarian was a tad trigger happy. She flashed Halifax three fingers.

Halifax checked her charge. She was only half empty. She returned five fingers to Wren. The Andorian nodded. She jerked her thumb towards the manor’s entrance and then gave Halifax a five count. The commander knew she meant there were five foes that had cleared their rooms and were now approaching them.

Wren help up three fingers and nodded towards her hand. Halifax nodded her agreement. They’d go on her three count. Halifax counted off slowly and then she and Wren opened fire on the gunmen cloistered in the hallway.

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"Decisions" Chapter Five / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

Wren and Vallis went to the closest of their two targets. What they found was two warehouses occupying the same general city block. From what they’d observed so far, a single warehouse generally dominated a block.

Wren looked bemused. “So, left or right?”

“Let’s start with left and move to right,” Vallis suggested.

Wren pursed her lips. “How human.”

“Excuse me?” Vallis yelped.

“Humans. You’re so devoted to Federation standard script and reading from left to right it colors your perceptions,” Wren observed.

“Then let’s start with the one on the right,” Vallis offered.

“And change our plans?” Wren teased, “Heavens forefend.”

Vallis thought she was starting to appreciate the Andorian’s sense of humor. She certainly had to thank Wren for her sense of propriety. If not for Wren, she would never have exchanged fluids with Tom, and what a world of discovery that had been!

Wren got them into the first storage facility. There were stacks and stacks of cargo pods but they scanned as being empty. Then in a corner of the warehouse, they came upon several rows of neatly stacked pods separated from the rest. Wren used her tricorder and the readings were blank.

“These are shielded carriers,” she announced.

Before the Andorian could stop her, Vallis approached the nearest pods. A couple lay slightly apart from their double stacked brethren. She activated the release and the hatch opened. Her mouth dropped open.

“Oh my!” she breathed.

Wren was obligated to take a look. Inside the pod were racks of small arms and power packs. There were enough rifles to equip half of her security force in this pod alone. She turned to the pod next to it. It had a completely different configuration. In fact, it looked like a photon torpedo rack.

Wren opened the pod and her worst suspicions were confirmed. Four Mark VII photons were suspended in cargo harnesses. The Mark VII had been the vogue weapon of choice for Starfleet back in the late twenty-third century, but they were still highly potent even by today’s standards, and they were highly illegal for use by anyone outside of Starfleet or planetary militias.

“Well, while this is certainly a surprise, it isn’t what we’re looking for,” Wren said ruefully.

“But who are they meant for?” Vallis asked.

Wren plucked up a PADD and began perusing its contents. It listed dozens of cargo pods all similarly stocked. But there was no buyer listed. Hell, there wasn’t even a supplier.

“I don’t know,” Wren admitted. “Mark this location on the PADD and let’s check out the neighboring warehouse.”

A clattering noise had them both whirling about and drawing their weapons. The problem with a Type I phaser was that while it was concealable, its diminutive power pack couldn’t support a sustained firefight.

They heard voices and Wren began backing Vallis out towards the closest exit. They slipped behind some pods to get to the door and they heard voices raised as the latecomers discovered the opened pods. The Starfleet officers slipped out and briskly headed for the neighboring warehouse.

Wren jimmied the door and they entered the second facility. Vallis stopped Wren.

“Shouldn’t we do something about those rifles and torpedoes?” she asked.

“We will,” Wren assured her. “As soon as the Gandhi returns and I have some support, I’ll tear this colony apart looking for the sellers and the buyers. In the meantime though, we have the isolytics to worry about. The Cardassians cannot be allowed to acquire them.” And then Wren shrugged, “Besides, how do we know the buyer isn’t legit?”

“If you were legitimate, would you be shopping here?” Vallis argued.

Wren winced. “Okay, so that theory is a little weak.”

Vallis looked around. “This place is empty.”

Wren shared a wry grin, “I had noticed that. I’m just giving our neighbors time to cool off.”

“Where did the isolytic weapons come from?” Vallis suddenly asked.

“What do you mean?” Wren wondered.

“Who built them?” Vallis clarified, “If it is the Orion Syndicate, I’ve never heard of them running isolytics before. Do you think they’re a domestic product?”

Wren shared what Borien’s investigation had yielded. “If they are, they altered the warp signature enough to mask their trademark subspace signature.”

“So it isn’t the Orions,” Vallis guessed.

“No, that just might mean they didn’t build them,” Wren corrected her, “although that still doesn’t narrow down who the manufacturer could be.”

“I’m just surprised that Commander Borien wasn’t able to get those answers from our captured bombs,” Vallis admitted.

“You mean the same bombs we’re currently missing?” Wren asked dryly.

“Um…yeah,” Vallis conceded.

“Don’t worry. Whether Commander Halifax and Riker find them first or we do, we will find them,” Wren assured her.

“This isn’t the place, Commander,” Riker reported as he closed down his tricorder. “There aren’t any isolytics in this housing quad. The mere fact that I can scan the interior is pretty indicative that it isn’t the site.”

“Scan it again,” Halifax ordered anyway.

Riker gave her an askance glance but he didn’t protest. He just activated his tricorder and walked around the city block dominating housing unit. As he disappeared around the corner, Halifax cursed the cold.

Freshly fallen snow covered the streets and sidewalks. A cold wind had kicked up since dawn and frankly, Halifax was chilly. Of course, she mused, if I were walking around the building a few times I probably wouldn’t be half as cold.

This was Riker’s fourth circuit around the quad. Each time, he had produced the same results. She’d accepted them after the second go around but now she was merely teaching the bastard a lesson. He needed to learn respect, and if she was going to have to smack him around until he learned some, then so be it. Hell, if she had to physically beat it into him, she would.

Halifax shook herself. Where had that come from? She knew she hadn’t felt this strongly before Riker and Vallis’ tryst last night. Was she so shaken up over Boerhoven that she was just having a knee-jerk reaction to any of her subordinates engaging in intimate relations?

No! She defiantly declared to herself. She wasn’t overreacting. Riker was a potential disciplinary problem and she was going to quash said problem even before it arose.

She saw him returning and he wore the same resigned expression that he had since completing his secondcircuit. This time, like every other, he thrust the tricorder out towards her, “Care to oversee the results, ma’am?”

“I trust your ability, Lt. Riker,” she said haughtily.

His eyes called her out with a well placed, Bullshit! Aloud, he reported the same thing he had three times before. Halifax was tempted to send him forth again just for the look in his eyes. Yet, he wasn’t being disrespectful. His analysis was actually right on target. Should she punish him merely for being right about her? Yes! A distant corner of her mind railed.

“Let’s move on to the second site,” Halifax ordered.

She could feel the relief eking off of Riker but his face was an impassive mask. Halifax was pleased despite herself. Perhaps he could be broken and taught after all. She had her doubts though. He had eight years of isolation to contend with. Years of utter self reliance where the chain of command did not exist. Riker’s chief problem was self-sufficiency.

Add to that the complex he had over being duplicated. He just couldn’t accept that he was the duplicate. Commander Riker deserved the life he’d earned while Lt. Riker shouldn’t even exist, so he should simply be grateful to be alive and accept whatever scraps Starfleet doled out.

Halifax suddenly stopped mid-stride at that thought. She wondered where it had come from. Riker had overshot her and was coming back. He looked concerned.

“Problems?” he inquired.

His obvious concern over her well being made her cheeks burn. Fortunately, the wind and the cold covered that fact up. She shook her head.

“Nothing,” she asserted. She could see he didn’t quite believe her, so she decided to flex her authoritative muscles. “Let’s get moving.”

Riker complied and they went further down the street. Turning at a cross street, they proceeded down several blocks of residential units. They finally came to a large, gated-off manor house. Riker stopped and gave it an appraising look.

Halifax couldn’t quite believe it. “This is it?”

He double-checked his PADD. “Yup, this is it.”

Halifax was having a hard enough time believing such a structure even existed on Hadon II. It bespoke of wealth — A degree of wealth that was utterly lacking throughout the rest of the colony.

The house stood at least three stories tall and had dormered windows on a steepled roof. There were only a few lights shining on the bottom floor. Heavy curtains kept the interior out of sight, yet a halo of light indicated there were occupants.

“Sensor readings?” Halifax found her voice.

“It’s shielded,” Riker said as though that were condemnation enough.

She was strangely hesitant all of a sudden. “There could be a reasonable explanation for that.”

“Commander, the only reason to shield a structure from sensors is to hide what’s inside,” Riker said with obvious eagerness.

“And privacy is a right that is guaranteed in the Federation. Or have you forgotten that?” Halifax snapped.

“No ma’am,” he said forcefully, “but I happen to think the Commander agrees with me. She may just be afraid to authorize an incursion.”

Halifax set her jaw defiantly but he had her. After a moment of quelling her anger, she tried a new tactic: “We’ll pull back to that deli that we ran into two blocks back and spend some time observing the premises. We can note any traffic and capture imagery of anyone that goes in or out.”

“What about Wren and Vallis?” Riker inquired, somewhat mollified by the idea.

“I’ll spare a couple of minutes to get a sitrep and direct them here if they haven’t found a better target,” Halifax informed him.

“Okay, sounds like a good idea,” Riker conceded.

“I’m so happy you approve, Lieutenant,” Halifax dryly replied.

They got coffee and sandwiches from the proprietor of the deli and sat outside. Personally, Halifax thought that any customers that typically enjoyed the outside seating had to be crazy. If her duty didn’t compel her to, she certainly wouldn’t. Then again, I could just leave Riker out here by himself, she mused. Dismissing the idea, she contacted Wren.

Wren reported that the two assigned warehouses were clean. There was a third, though, that might have illegal cargo. Halifax asked for details.

“We’re being tracked, remember?” Wren said. “Give us your coordinates and we’ll join you.”

Halifax relayed the coordinates and she and Riker refilled their coffees while Wren and Vallis trudged across town. They eventually arrived, chagrined to be excluded out of a meal.

Halifax ordered them to grab some coffee and sandwiches. The ladies gratefully obeyed. Later, after they wolfed down the food and refilled their cups, Wren asked if Halifax and Riker had spotted anyone.

“No,” Halifax admitted. “Whoever is in there is content to stay holed up.”

“I don’t blame them,” Vallis shivered.

Wren suddenly grinned as she went for another bagel sandwich and coffee. “Who would have ever thought we’d run across a kosher deli on a planet like this?”

When she returned with a full plate and an even fuller cup, she wondered, “You can’t scan the building?”

“They have complete sensor shrouds in place,” Riker explained.

“But they don’t have any active sensor sweeps in place either?” she asked between mouthfuls.

“You’re on to something,” Halifax realized.

“They’re using something other than standard sensors to ensure their security. Whatever it is, we may be able to spoof and get to the door before they realize we’re there,” Wren thought aloud. “Get me to the location and I’ll be able to spot what they’re using.”

They eventually moved out and brought Wren and Vallis to the entrance of the manor house. Wren immediately spotted the infrared eyes and motion sensors. She chuckled.

“This is so twentieth century it isn’t even funny,” she opined.

“What about visual monitors?” Halifax asked.

Wren looked around and spotted the orbs under the eaves. “Commander, we’re blown.”

“Then prepare to breach,” Halifax ordered.

“Ma’am?” Ensign Orwatt at Ops spoke, “Sensors mark a Cardassian Galor-class cruiser entering the Hadon system.”

“Is she running ID?” Moneii was curious as to whether the Cardassian commander had silenced their transponder or was just brazen enough to leave it on.

“It’s up and running,” Orwatt answered. “She’s marked as the Grimpett.”

“Helm, plot an intercept course,” Moneii ordered. She tapped a control on her armrest. “All hands, yellow alert.”

“They’ve detected us…and they’re hailing,” Orwatt reported.

“Maintain intercept but put their transmission on the main viewer.” Moneii was almost startled to see that her potential foe was Gul Ocett. Malyn Ocett was one of a handful of Cardassian women to reach the rank of gul. Rumor had it, when she’d commanded a system cutter, she’d been the one to discover and recognize the potential worth of the lifeform later known as Odo.

“Gul Ocett, this is an honor,” Moneii offered.

Ocett broke into a wry smile. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

“Yes, and so does your propensity to wander about,” Moneii fired the first verbal salvo. “Tell me, what business do you have in Federation space?”

“My crew and I are on a surveying mission and we were suffering some equipment failures. We sought out Hadon II as a source for replacements,” Ocett said smoothly.

“I wasn’t aware that the Central Command undertook such missions. From all reports, you leave that sort of thing to civilians,” Moneii countered.

“Times change,” Ocett replied. “We enjoy a peace now. Idle hands make for mischief.”

“True enough,” Moneii agreed. “I’ll tell you what. We’ll escort back to the border and we’ll supply whatever equipment you need.”

“Cardassian and Federation technologies are incompatible,” Ocett said flatly.

“We’ve learned wonders at Deep Space Nine,” Moneii stated. “It seems we have more in common than was commonly perceived.”

“I rather doubt that,” Ocett said disdainfully.

“Ideas like that led to our last war,” Moneii chastised her. “In fact, your very presence here is provocative. Misunderstandings frequently lead to hostilities. Unless of course, that is actually your intent?”

“What do you mean, Captain?” Ocett was finally openly hostile.

“The border was firmly established by our recent treaty. You’re way out of bounds, unless of course, you’d like to show us your navigation logs and demonstrate how you got lost,” Moneii offered yet another alternative.

“We are not lost.” Ocett grated at this slight upon her competence. “We are here for equipment.”

“And I’ve offered to give you some. My engineers will work with your people and tailor it to your needs,” Moneii explained. “But you can throw any intentions that you have for reaching Hadon II out of your mind. We will escort you back to the border, by force, if necessary.”

“And what would happen to your precious peace then?” Ocett scoffed.

Moneii was truly disappointed. “It’s your peace too, Gul Ocett. I’ll give you thirty minutes to decide.”

“To decide what?” Ocett was still stubbornly trying to bluff her way through to Hadon.

“If you haven’t reversed course and started back for the Cardassian border in thirty minutes, I will disable your vessel and board her,” Moneii revealed. Seeing Ocett’s eyes bulge, she elaborated, “You are in foreign territory in violation of the terms of our mutual peace treaty. Now how would you react if I crossed the border?”

Moneii terminated the transmission. Boerhoven turned to her. “Was that the wisest move? Shouldn’t we have forced her to turn back now?”

“If we were to, she’d fight,” Moneii read the situation. “However, if she has time to think about it she’ll have time to wonder about how much of her mission we are fully aware of. She’ll report back to the Central Command and they, in turn, will order her to cut her losses and withdraw.”

“And if they decide to reinforce her instead?” Boerhoven wondered.

“Then we have trouble,” Moneii admitted. “Make no mistake about it, Commander. If Ocett doesn’t reverse course in thirty minutes time, I will engage her.”

“Here’s hoping it doesn’t come to that,” he said.

Moneii agreed with him inwardly. Her thoughts drifted towards her away team. They’d received only one transmission in the last twenty hours. Were they still all right? She supposed she’d find out soon enough, one way or another.

Feedback

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"Decisions" Chapter Four / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

“She said what?” Halifax exploded after Riker had returned with their meals and explained what had transpired.

“She said the Cardassians were the buyers,” Riker repeated…again.

Wren was curiously studying the padd. She’d taken scans of it as soon as Riker returned. She’d told Halifax she had run down the woman’s ID as soon as they returned to the Gandhi. Halifax had darkly muttered they might need to apprehend the stranger before then.

“There’s a map of the colony on here,” Riker pointed out, trying to retrieve the padd from Wren’s clutches. She was having none of it and perused the data display herself.

“He’s right,” she announced.

“They’re listed as potential locations for storing the warheads,” he shared.

Wren looked at Halifax. “He’s right again.”

“Should we trust this mystery woman?” Halifax wondered aloud, soliciting input.

“It’s the best lead that we have,” Wren shared, “and like I said, I have her biometric data and genetic samples to use to track her down later.”

Halifax turned to Riker. “Can we trust this woman?”

“She isn’t hiding much. There was a note of desperation in her voice and in her eyes as she described the Cardassians getting these weapons,” Riker stated. “If she’s right about their targets and their motives, I could see why she’d be afraid. The targets are all populated areas.”

Halifax had noted that as well. “Ensign, do you have anything to contribute?”

“I say we take her at her word,” Vallis spoke up.

Halifax was intrigued. “And why is that?”

“The woman, Kalinda, took a risk. It was a calculated one to be sure, but she stepped out to approach us when it would have been safer to stay out of it and try and deal with the problem alone, like Tom suggested,” Vallis opined.

Halifax stumbled over Vallis calling Riker “Tom.” “Are you certain that’s your only motive?”

“Yes,” Vallis asserted with some confusion. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“The four sites are clustered into two groupings,” Riker observed. “We could split up and scout out those locations.”

Halifax looked to Wren, who nodded. She accepted the recommendation and ran with it. “We’ll split into two teams of two.”

“I suggest Lt. Riker escort Ensign Vallis,” Wren suddenly put in.

Halifax stifled a groan. It was obvious that Wren liked Riker and was trying to play matchmaker. Their pairing up in the other room should have satisfied that impulse.

“The Ensign needs someone of your experience to assist her,” Halifax insisted of Wren.

The security chief wisely backed down. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Riker, if we find the weapons depot, can you get us inside of it?” Halifax inquired.

He grinned confidently. “I sure can.”

She turned to Wren. “Could you do the same?”

“Probably, but I’m not on par with Tom,” Wren admitted with some chagrin.

Again with the “Tom,” Halifax thought sourly. She knew she should be happy since one of her reservations about him was that he’d isolated himself from the rest of the crew. He was stretching out now, and yet she was uneasy.

“Then after we’ve examined the four sites, we’ll regroup at the primary site, assuming there’s only one, and scout it out,” Halifax ordered.

“What about the Gandhi?” Riker asked. “Captain Moneii needs to know that the Cardassians could be arriving soon.”

Halifax nodded. It was a good point. She nodded to Wren. The Andorian peeked through the closed curtains.

Halifax tapped her comm badge. The signal linked her badge to the Precarious’ subspace transmitter and it activated. Transmitting into space, it bounced a signal through the system’s subspace relay network. She requested a connection with Moneii and was grateful when the captain replied.

“Commander, are you and the away team all right? We’ve been growing concerned,” Moneii spoke.

“Captain, the buyers are presumably Cardassian. Repeat, the buyers are Cardassian. They’ll be in-system within the next twenty-four hours. Our signals are being monitored and tracked. Halifax out.” She terminated the connection.

“That was quick,” Riker commended her.

Halifax turned to Wren. “Anything?”

“There’s movement at the end of the street. About a dozen toughs with some kind of lupine creatures.” Wren described what she saw. “They’re waving a radial around. They seem to have lost the signal.”

“Won’t they just come here?” Vallis nervously asked.

“There are three flophouses on this block,” Halifax reminded her. “That’s why we chose this street.”

“They’re moving off,” Wren said to everyone’s relief. “Night’s fallen and they don’t seem too happy to be out in it. I guess searching three boarding houses versus holing up in a tavern has a clear winner.”

“All right, we’ll hole up here for the night,” Halifax allowed.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Riker chuckled. As he excused himself, Halifax took Vallis aside.

“Be careful, Ensign. Remember Starfleet’s code of conduct at all times,” Halifax urged.

Vallis left with a rather puzzled look on her face. Meanwhile, Wren was trying to choke down laughter. Halifax snapped at her.

“This is all your fault, you know!” she accused.

Wren held up her hands in surrender. “Let nature take its course, Megan. If anything untoward happens, maybe it’s best to leave it alone.”

“And if they end up hating each other,” Halifax wanted to know, “that’ll make for some long watches.

“Sort of like you and Boerhoven?” Wren asked pointedly.

“Yes.” Halifax loathed admitting it. “I dipped into my chain of command and it cost me and the ship.”

“I hate to bring it up, Megan, but Karl was being transferred regardless if you two shagged or not. He got promoted. Don’t begrudge him his promotion,” Wren advised.

“Why do you like him?” Halifax blurted.

“Who?” Wren asked, “Tom or Karl?”

“Riker,” Halifax grated.

“He’s got promise. He’s bright, enthusiastic, charismatic, and he’s making the best of a situation even after Starfleet gave him the shaft,” Wren explained.

“He told you that?” Halifax scented blood in the water.

“No, Elizabeth Mayweather did,” Wren clarified.

“Oh, there’s a fount of unbridled truth,” Halifax quipped.

Wren grinned. “She actually got most of her facts straight in this one. Her interpretations leave a lot to be desired, but she got the basics down this time.”

“So tell me what you really think of him,” Halifax invited her.

Wren shared.

In their room, Riker and Vallis sat down. He took a chair that occupied an old fashioned writing desk and straddled it. He turned it so that he could face Vallis, who sat at the edge of her bed. He noticed she seemed off. Not noticeably nervous, but she was distracted by something.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Riker offered.

Vallis suddenly came back into focus. “A what?”

“A penny,” he smiled. “On Earth, in Anglo-American countries, it was a form of currency. Sort of like strips of latinum today.”

“So it was worth a lot?” she wondered.

He shook his head and chuckled. “No, it was next to worthless.”

She smiled. “Not much of a bribe then.”

“All kidding aside, what’s on your mind?” he asked.

“You, actually,” she admitted.

“Should I be flattered or worried?” he inquired.

“Earlier you said you grew up somewhere on Earth called Alaska. Tell me about it,” she requested.

He spoke to her of frigid winters and how people traveled by snowshoe and skimobile. They used air transports to get to most places because wheeled and tracked vehicles bogged down in the snow, ice, and mud. Then he described the grand vistas and the seemingly endless forests. He moved to the summers and the copious waterways and lakes.

“It was probably considered pretty rugged to most people on Earth, but it was home. Our house had its own fusion reactor, so we were set for power. My dad was away a lot, so I was always prowling about, getting into mischief,” he opted to disclose as well.

“I don’t have any memories like that,” she said wistfully.

“What’s your planet like then?” Riker wondered.

She smiled warmly. “It’s a lot like what you described, only a lot less snow. What I meant is, I didn’t have a childhood. I emerged from the lab force grown to a relative age of eighteen years with my education imprinted into me. I already had a job lined up and all I had to do was pick a name and accept both.”

“Of course, they kept me pretty close to the lab for the first six months. They had to determine if I was genetically viable. The cloning stock had degraded so much that most Vallises weren’t viable anymore. Everyone was afraid because they saw the collapse of our culture looming over us.” She brightened suddenly, “And that’s when the Enterprise came. Captain Picard had rescued the other colony founded by the SS Mariposa and brought its inhabitants to us. By combining the Bringloidi into our society, we staved off extinction.”

“And rediscovered fluid transfers,” he smirked.

“Yes, there was that too. Every woman needed to take four to six husbands. Frankly, I didn’t know what to do with one, so I left on the next transport that came by,” Vallis revealed.

She hesitated before plunging on. “I actually met your ‘brother’ while he toured our colony. He spoke some pleasantries at me and went on his way. The team sent down to find us was the first group of naturally born humans I’d ever met. I have to admit I didn’t know what to make of them.”

“But the little I learned about Starfleet captivated me,” Vallis confessed. “To have the opportunity to move from world to world and see indescribable diversity? That sounded like a dream come true.”

She smiled slyly, “And I have to confess, I thought your brother was beautiful.”

Riker smiled. “Most men prefer to be called ‘handsome.’”

“Whatever,” she said dismissively. “I found both of you to be beautiful.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” he asked, wondering where this conversation was suddenly leading. He felt a slippery slope sliding out from underneath.

“Yes,” she asserted defiantly, “I don’t care if you want to be called ‘handsome.’ I think you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “Why the sudden ‘true confessions?’”

“Tell me about fluid transfers,” she suddenly demanded.

“Well, I’ll try to explain everything as best as I can,” he began.

Vallis waved him off. “No, I understand the mechanics. My education implants took care of that. I want to know about the experience.”

Riker shook his head. “I don’t think I can.”

“Really?” she asked imploringly.

“I’d have to show you and you could make up your own mind,” he suggested.

“Okay,” she said blithely, “how do we do that?”

He rose from the chair came to stand before her. “We start with the basics.”

“How?” she asked as he coaxed her off of the bed.

He leaned down and kissed her. She tentatively responded but she looked rather downcast when he pulled away. “Was that it?”

“Try opening your mouth,” he suggested with a grin and leaned back down. Their mouths met and suddenly Vallis came alive. After a few seconds she gripped him and tried to pull him in as though she were about to absorb him into herself.

Riker smiled as he pulled back. “That’s better. What do you think?”

“I like that,” she confessed. “I’m not to sure about the other parts, but I definitely want to do that again.”

“It’s called a kiss,” Riker explained.

“Would you kiss me again?” Vallis requested.

“Of course.” He readily complied. When he pulled away, this time he whispered into her ear, “So, do you still like it?”

“Are all fluid transfers like this?” she asked in a husky voice.

“They get even better,” he promised.

“Well, I guess you’re going to have to show me,” she coyly suggested. He leaned back so he could see her face. She winked at him, “After all, how else will I decide if I like them or not?”

Riker grinned and began showing her everything he knew about fluid transfers.

The next morning, he stepped outside of their room to get some coffee. Wren was out there too, watching him with some amusement.

“So, how was your evening?” she asked, despite her eyes revealing that she already knew the answer.

Riker instantly knew that she knew what had happened between he and Vallis. She’d turned out to be a bit of a screamer and he had no idea how thin or thick the walls were. Still, he opted to bluff his way out.

“It was pleasant,” he downplayed the events of the evening, which had gone on for hours.

“Oh, it sounded much more impressive than ‘pleasant,’” Wren chuckled. “One might even call it ‘momentous.’”

Riker hung his head and Wren decided to share one last zing. “You friend has some lung power.”

“Are you done?” Riker groaned.

“I just have one word of advice: Make certain you both know where you stand this morning. If I’m guessing correctly, it was her first time and you may have completely different intentions at this point. Don’t let things hang in limbo because that’ll ruin whatever friendship you’ve already forged with the lady,” Wren advised.

Riker eyed her in a new light. “When did you become so wise?”

Wren laughed. “I’m Andorian. It takes four of us to come together and make a baby. That’s a huge balancing act. Not just of time and schedules but of egos and intentions.”

“And have you made a baby?” Riker wondered.

“Yes,” Wren confided, “but I’m not the birther so I didn’t have to carry anything to term. But I played my part and I helped conceive a child.”

“Boy or a girl?” Riker asked. “Or do your people even qualify to those standards?”

“We had a boy, or at least a member of one of the two male sexes that Andorians have. Andorians also come in two female sexes. That’s as close to human biology that I can frame it,” she explained.

Riker came back to the original topic. “Does Halifax know about Annalise and I?”

Wren looked downcast. “Yes, and she’s chewing deuterium.”

Riker sighed, “Thanks for the warning. Want anything for breakfast?”

Wren smiled again. “I was about to head down myself, so I’ll join you. I’ll keep Megan busy while you hash things over with Annalise.”

Riker returned to his shared room with coffee and a scone for Vallis.

“Here you go,” he said cheerfully. “They didn’t have much in the way of selection, but this should cover the basic carb requirements.”

“Thanks,” she met his cheerfulness with her own. She munched on her scone for moment before mentioning, “Thank you for last night. I had no idea. I can’t wait to try this out with Mark, or Alfonso, or Darien.”

Riker almost choked on his coffee. “Really?”

“Yeah, they’ve all offered to show me about fluid transfers but I’m glad it was you that did it. I trust you. I feel comfortable with you in ways that I don’t with the other guys.”

“But you want to sleep with them?” Riker was reeling.

“No, I want to exchange fluids with them,” she corrected him. “I don’t think sleep will factor into it. Not if last night was any indicator.”

Riker was thrilled that he didn’t have to explain recreational sex. She seemed to have mastered that concept with her first outing. But it sort of hurt his feelings that she didn’t want to pursue him further.

There was a knock on the door and Riker opened it. Wren was standing outside wearing a wry expression. “Commander Halifax wants to see you now.”

“Understood. Will you wait here with Annalise?” he requested.

“Certainly,” Wren assured him.

That having been said, Riker marched off to his doom.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Halifax shouted at him.

Riker didn’t even flinch. “My actions were warranted.”

“How can you say that?” Halifax growled.

“She specifically asked me to engage in sexual activities with her.” Riker decided bald faced honesty was the best approach here.

“What does she know?” Halifax retorted, “She’s a sexual infant. Until last night, she’d never even had intercourse.”

“That may be true, but she wanted to know what it was like and I was honored to be her first,” Riker declared.

“I’m about two seconds away from writing you up for conduct unbecoming,” Halifax warned. She moved away to the other side of the room and then turned. “What are you intentions now?”

“I was just speaking to Ensign Vallis about that when you sent for me,” Riker admitted.

“And?” Halifax queried him. “Weigh your answer carefully, mister.”

“Ensign Vallis gave me a list of fellow officers that she’d like to exchange fluids with,” he announced.

Halifax’s jaw dropped. “She did?”

“Ensign Vallis is a grown woman with much more emotional maturity than she’s been assumed to have,ma’am,” Riker said smartly.

“Don’t get an attitude with me,” Halifax warned him. “You’ve got an attitude, mister. And I intend to drum it out of you.”

“Maybe the Commander is wasting her time,” Riker riposted.

“Just what is eating at you, Riker?” Halifax finally asked. He’d been surprised no one had dared to ask until now. “Was it that you were stranded for eight years? Because if it is, boo hoo. Starfleet did what they could and pulled you out of there as soon as they humanly could. That’s the hand fate dealt you, so suck it up and deal with it.”

“I knew Starfleet couldn’t reach me for eight years.” For the first time, anger laced Riker’s voice. “I spent every day trying to survive and hold on for that magical day. I don’t know if this has ever happened to you, but when I was rescued I found an exact copy of myself leading the party.”

His jaw set and he spoke again. “I wasn’t happy with that fact, but I dealt with it and moved on. To theGandhi, to be precise. Am I happy? Define happiness. I’m alive and I’m free of Nervalla. However, one important consideration was overlooked. Commander Will Riker received his initial promotion to Lt. Commander based upon his gallantry on Nervalla IV. There was only one Riker when those events occurred, which means I participated in them, too. However, the recovered Will Riker received the promotion and when I was recovered I was overlooked.”

“Should I be singing a maudlin tune?” Halifax asked acerbically. “Let me tell you, mister. You’re actionshave been considered — to the point that you were a candidate for second officer. As you know, Lt. Commander Boerhoven has been promoted and made first officer of the Potemkin, a ship I’m certain you clearly remember. That means his position is open.”

“And I was a candidate?” Riker said with resignation.

“You might be still,” Halifax declared, “but you have the rest of this mission to prove you’re not what I currently think you are.”

“May I ask what that is?” Riker inquired.

Halifax’s eyes narrowed. “I believe you are a complete egoist who is a threat to both his crewmates and the service. Plain enough?”

“Perfectly clear,” Riker said. Halifax appreciated the maturity and professionalism he exhibited while receiving that news.

“Now get Wren and Vallis in here so they can stop leaning against the wall to listen in,” Halifax instructed.

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"Decisions" Chapter Three / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

As the away team wandered the colony’s snow-laden streets, Wren seemed enchanted. Riker also seemed in his element while Halifax and Vallis were decidedly cold. Wren nudged Riker with her elbow playfully.

“So why aren’t you pretending you’re dying like our two lady friends?” she asked. “I know why I’m not. This is like being back on Andoria but what’s your deal?”

“I grew up in Alaska,” Riker said as if that explained everything.

Wren looked confused. “I’ve never heard of that planet.”

Riker grinned. “It’s not a planet. It’s place on Earth. It’s part of what used to be the United States of America.”

“And it’s like this?” Wren wondered.

“The winters are actually colder than this,” he assured her.

She smiled wistfully. “I wish I could have visited it. We spent all our time on Earth in San Francisco except for survival courses in the Sahara Desert and Antarctica. Antarctica wasn’t bad. The penguins were rather cute. But the Sahara? Worst place imaginable.”

“I’ll have to take you some time,” Riker offered.

“Why Mr. Riker, are you flirting with me?” she teased.

“Maybe,” he teased back.

“You are aware that Andorians come in four sexes, of which I am only one?” she asked.

“But you are female?” Riker asked, wondering if he’d been under the wrong impression.

“Yes, but maybe I’m not the right type of female for you,” she answered enigmatically.

“We’d have to see,” Riker suggested.

“There it is!” Vallis suddenly blurted as she pointed at a hanging sign over a doorway.

“Thank God,” Halifax muttered.

They approached the establishment ad Wren went in first, followed by Riker. Halifax and Vallis followed after a moment’s peace. There hadn’t been any trouble as their teammates entered, so they ventured onward.

It was a roomy establishment contrary to its impression from the outside. There were thirty to forty people in it. They were a varied lot. Races from across the quadrant were represented. They all shared one attribute though: They were happy to be in from the cold.

Wren seemed to be the only put out by the roaring fireplace. She turned to Halifax, “I’ll find us a table.”

While Riker, Vallis, and Halifax milled about, a patron approached Vallis and offered to buy her a drink. Riker intercepted him and shooed him away. Vallis seemed both appreciative and insulted all the same.

“Where would the harm be in it?” she asked.

He gave her a wry look. “He just wanted a fluid transfer.”

Wren overheard this as she approached and she snickered. Halifax looked lost. Lost and miffed that she hadn’t received similar attention yet.

Wren led them to the table she’d scouted. Halifax settled in and asked Vallis what this “fluid transfer” business was about, so Vallis explained her origins and her views on natural reproduction.

“We should all be so enlightened,” Halifax murmured. Seeing Wren’s imploring look, she stipulated, “Yes, you can order drinks but make them synthales. We need to be focused.”

“Don’t worry, Commander. You’re focused enough for all of us,” Wren jibed as she went to the bar. If the Andorian noticed Halifax’s responding glare, she ignored it.

Halifax thought about Vallis’ revelation. It explained her camaraderie with Riker. Since they shared similar origins, she saw him as non-threatening. However, Halifax wasn’t as certain that Riker didn’t have intentions of his own.

Wren returned with a tray bearing four glasses slopping over with synthale. Halifax had to comment, “Lord Almighty, Wren, do you think you got enough in each glass?”

Wren grinned, “Blame the bartender. He likes Andorians.”

“Which sex?” Halifax retorted.

Wren’s smile blossomed. “All of them.”

“Adventurous,” Halifax muttered as she took a sip of her drink.

Wren quietly studied the crowd while the others engaged in conversation. Riker and Vallis tried to draw Halifax out but she was abnormally reserved. Riker couldn’t tell if it was personal or not. Halifax was usually quite warm with her subordinates, but he and Vallis seemed to rub her the wrong way. Him especially. He wondered if she was even aware of that fact.

“Commander,” Wren said softly, “we’re not alone here.”

“Really, Wren?” Halifax lipped off, “I hadn’t noticed the crowd in here.”

“We’re being watched,” Wren said nonchalantly, “and don’t start looking around. A group in the corner has been observing us since we came in.”

“Maybe we’re a sideshow?” Riker asked. He certainly felt on display.

“No, they’re professionals,” Wren opined. “They’re not Starfleet caliber but they are seasoned and they know the basics of tradecraft. It actually took me a couple of minutes to spot them.”

“Who are they?” Halifax inquired a little more sharply than she’d intended, “Are they associated with the loading crew?”

“No.” Wren decided, “they’re a lot more subtle than that. Particularly a women with violet hair.”

“A Boslic?” Riker asked.

Wren took a drink before answering, “I don’t know her species. I’d guess she’s human and altered her hair color.”

“Unusual choice for someone trying to lay low,” Riker commented.

“Or maybe she’s trying to hide in plain sight, like us,” Halifax rebutted.

“No, she’s the expert among them,” Wren commented, “and she knows that we know it too.”

“What do you want to do about it?” Riker pointedly asked Halifax.

“We’re not jumping into an impulsive confrontation, Lieutenant,” Halifax warned, “so don’t even go there.”

“They’re moving,” Wren announced.

Riker watched as the men and women sauntered past and headed for the exit. The woman with the violet hair was even younger than Vallis, but she moved with an air of certainty and purpose that startled Riker. An older woman, closer to his age, shared that effect. She was subtly directing the others. Her eyes locked on his for a moment and something passed between them. He wasn’t certain what it was, but there was a definite unspoken exchange. It was like he was a book and she read him cover to cover in that moment.

“What the hell was that, Lt. Riker?” Halifax hissed.

“Excuse me?” he asked irritably.

“What was that look?” Halifax demanded to know.

“I have no idea,” Riker confessed. He could tell Halifax was less than satisfied with that answer, but it was the best he could come up with.

They settled in to an uncomfortable silence. An hour passed slowly and finally, Muscleman entered into the Grimshaw. He spotted them and headed over to their table.

“Your story checked out,” he said without preamble. “We need you to unlock your cargo bay. Your boys aboard have been…uncooperative.”

“Then I’ll need to give them a raise,” Halifax quipped. “One thing though, my crew needs to oversee the unloading.”

“Why?” Muscleman asked.

“Do you know what we’re hauling?” she sharply inquired.

“What do you think?” he retorted.

“I think you’re as ignorant as you are thick. The cargo is volatile and we know how to disarm it. You want to do that on your own? Fine. Have at it,” Halifax said dismissively.

Muscleman had given in, so they all went to the Precarious’ landing site. The Starfleet team oversaw the offloading onto antigrav pallet hailed about by a vehicle resembling a Work Bee. Halifax made to follow the Bee but Muscleman stopped her.

“No, you’re staying here. We’ve got it now” He thrust a padd her way. “Imprint the transfer authorization and the latinum will be yours.”

“But I…” Halifax ceased her protest when she saw that two of the loading crew were staying behind and now brandished disruptors.

Muscleman followed her line of sight and chuckled, “My boys will leave as soon as we deliver the cargo. You’ll stay here. After all, we wouldn’t want to have to buy it twice.”

Suddenly she understood. Their cover hadn’t been blown. Muscleman, or more likely his employers, had taken her crew for what they seemed: unrepentant opportunists. They weren’t allowed to follow the cargo for fear that they would steal it back and try to sell it again, this time to the highest bidder.

Halifax returned to the ship. The Starfleet personnel headed inside and sealed the cargo ramp. Wren immediately pulled out a tricorder and tracked the signal from the isolytics. Tapping into the local navigation satellite, she overlapped a city map against the movements of the weapons. Suddenly they disappeared.

“What the hell?” Halifax yelped.

“Damn,” Riker frowned, “They must have entered a shielded area.”

“So what do you suggest?” Halifax grated.

“We can follow the trail on foot and see about accessing the storage facility. Once we’ve confirmed or denied the existence of the other weapons, we can exit and signal the Gandhi. When we’re reinforced, we can apprehend the bosses of this little enterprise and get the buyer’s identity out if them,” Riker suggested.

Halifax hated to admit it but she was impressed. It was a good idea. She looked to Wren. The Andorian was grinning ear to ear.

“Sounds good, Commander,” she opined.

“We’ll all go this time,” Halifax decided.

Crewmen Hosters and Westerly looked excited to finally leave the ship. Ten minutes later, they were wishing they were back aboard. Vallis was downright miserable and Halifax was trying to put on a brave front — The invulnerability of the commanding officer and all that. Wren was in her element and Riker felt bad for the others. Besides growing up in Alaska, he had eight years of wretched weather on Nervalla to acclimate him.

They reached the massive warehouse where the trackers had gone offline. Footprints in the snow led a trail to the loading docks. Halifax asked Wren to scout the area out. Seeing her crewmen were convulsively shivering, she asked Riker to help her out.

The rounded the first corner to find nothing but a smooth wall facing them on one side. They rounded it and found four people guarding a door. They backtracked and Wren pointed out a secondary set of tracks that went to the wall and stopped. She pulled out her tricorder.

She smiled slyly, “That’s what I thought. A hidden door.”

“Can you get any scans of the interior?” Riker inquired.

“No, the shielding must be too thick even close up,” she replied.

“You know, I think I can spring the door,” he offered.

Her grin only grew. “I’ll get the others.”

They arrived to find Riker engaged with his tricorder. Halifax studied the footprints that led to a seamless wall. “There’s nothing here.”

“It’s a hologram,” Riker informed her as a tapped a control. The hologram faded, revealing a pressure door. Beside the door was a control panel. Riker studied it for several seconds and then began to utilize his tricorder again.

Accessing the door’s control circuit through a subspace connection, he instructed the door to open. It slid aside with an audible hiss. Halifax began to surge forward but Wren caught her.

“Crewmen Hosters and Westerly, front and center,” Wren ordered. The security men entered in and Halifax followed them. They’d entered only to discover the warehouse was vacant. There wasn’t a single cargo pod to be found.

A particle beam cut through the air and burned a hole in Hosters’ chest. Westerly began backing out, interposing himself between the unseen shooter and Halifax. A second beam cut him down and Halifax barely made it through the door before a third shot zipped through the empty space where she’d been.

Riker sealed the door and encrypted the activation cycle. Potential assailants rounded the nearby corner. They were the same fellows who had guarded the main door. They waved their weapons around and ordered the away team to stand still.

Wren pulled her phaser out of her waistband and volleyed off a couple of shots. Deciding to opt for the better part of valor, the guards disappeared around the corner. Wren looked to Halifax.

“What now?” she asked.

“Now we get out of here and try to regroup,” Halifax ordered.

The team sprinted down the street, turned a corner, came around another and then ducked into an occluded alley. It didn’t take long for a search party to make its way past. One straggler barely jogged by and Wren nabbed him.

Using a choke hold, she kept the human from crying out. When Riker gave the all clear signal, she released the man’s neck. He threw a punch, which she deftly blocked. She locked his wrist and slapped him into an arm bar. The man made high pitched squeal.

“Shut up!” Wren ordered, “Or this will get painful.”

He started yelling for help so she pushed him down and drove her knee into his face. Blood trickled out of his nose and he began gagging. Halifax stepped closer and Wren backed her off with a glare.

“Pardon my saying so, Commander, but you may not want to be present for this,” Wren advised.

“At ease, Lieutenant!” Halifax snapped, “Release that prisoner.”

Wren reluctantly let go and Halifax began her interrogation. “How many are there?”

“Go screw yourself,” the man snapped.

Wren punched him in the face. Halifax shot her warning and the tried again. “You’re antagonizing my security chief. You know how Andorians are. They don’t like to be antagonized. Things that are legal in the treatment of prisoners on their world are highly illegal on others. Should we pretend this is Andoria?”

Wren loomed ever closer. Riker was keeping lookout while Vallis was making herself one with the shadows. The man decided to play up to Halifax for no other reason than to avoid Wren.

“We’ve got men all over the colony. They will find you,” he boasted.

“How many sensors do they have?” Wren cut in sharply.

“What?” The man was confused by the question.

“How many tricorders or other portable sensors do they have?” Halifax said with forced patience.

“None,” he smirked. “They don’t need them. We have people surrounding your ship. If anyone’s aboard and they come looking for you, boom! If you go there, same story.”

“If you don’t have sensors, then how will they try and track us?” Halifax needed to know.

The man was insufferably pleased with himself now. “They got subspace detection gear. You call out to your ship or another one in orbit or further out in the system, and we got you.”

Halifax frowned. Their lives had just gotten harder. She turned to Riker.

“Anyone out there?” she inquired.

“The streets are completely empty. The locals must know enough to stay indoors,” he replied.

“What do we do with this vole,” Wren asked with contempt lacing her every word.

“We tie hum up and leave behind,” Halifax recommended. “They’ll find him eventually.”

Halifax got a worried look on her face, “We can tie him up, can’t we?”

“Sure,” Wren said grimly. “Tom, I need some of those zip ties you’re carrying.”

Riker handed over a handful and returned to his post. Wren ripped off the lower section of her blouse. Halifax was amused.

“Isn’t it a little cold to go mid-riff?” she asked.

Wren ignored her and approached the prisoner. He began to try and swat her away. She punched his increasingly pulpy nose again. He doubled over in pain and she yanked his arms behind him and bound his wrists. Next she kicked his legs out from underneath and bound his ankles as well. She tied off the wrists to the ankles, effectively hog tying him. She finished off by using the scrap from her shirt to gag him.

She stood up and wiped her hands off. “That should do it.”

“You’re a dangerous woman, Shwren ann’Deri,” Halifax realized.

“I just want to live another day,” the Andorian admitted.

“We still clear?” Halifax asked Riker.

“Crystal,” he said.

Halifax retrieved Vallis and they ventured into the streets. It took several hours but they happened upon a boarding house. The proprietor had two rooms available, so Halifax rented them. Now came the hard part: Who would sleep with whom?

“Put Riker with Vallis,” Wren suggested as though she could read her commander’s mind.

“But what if…?” Halifax began to argue.

“It’ll do them both a world of good,” Wren asserted. “Besides, you heard of how she thinks of ‘fluid transfers.’ Where’s the harm?”

Despite her better judgment, she opted to go with Wren’s recommendation. As Halifax delivered the news, Wren stood behind her and winked at Riker. He wasn’t quite sure how to take that gesture.

First they gathered in Halifax and Wren’s shared room. Halifax was pacing. “Just who the hell are these people?”

“I’d guess they’re Orion Syndicate,” Wren ventured.

“What makes you say that?” Riker wondered.

“Their small arms are of Orion manufacture,” Wren explained.

“That doesn’t mean much,” Halifax was loathe to admit. “Orions will sell to anybody. Just like the Ferengi.”

“So what do we do?” Vallis wondered. They were all surprised that she’d spoken. She’d fallen into silence since they left the Grimshaw.

“I say I go pick up meals for everyone in the tavern below,” Riker offered. “Any requests?”

“Whatever they’re serving,” Halifax ordered. Wren looked ready to argue and Halifax stressed, “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

“Like we haven’t already,” Wren muttered.

Halifax gave her a pained look and then shooed Riker, “Just go. We’ll take whatever you get.”

Riker wandered down the hallway to the stairs and wound his way to the bottom floor. Crossing the threshold he passed by the front desk and entered into the attached tavern. When he stepped up to the bar, a rather bemused bartender eyed him.

“What’ll ya have, honey?” she asked with a slightly suggestive vibe.

“Do you have a menu?” he asked.

She pointed to a chalkboard. “Everything is listed right there. Should I give you a moment?”

“Please,” he smiled.

She returned the smile. “Good. When I get back, we can discuss what’s not on the menu.”

He watched her go down the line to another customer trying to reach across the taps and refill his drink. Riker chuckled as she slapped the man’s hand. His flailing hand groped her breast and he smiled giddily…until her right cross knocked him over.

“Careful, Starfleet,” a feminine voice advised. “The local health codes aren’t up to your usual standards. You might catch something. That meal ticket has been served up to plenty of customers.”

He turned around to find the woman who’d eyed him at Grimshaw’s. “Forget your posse?”

“Oh, they’re around, but I figured it would just be the two of us so we could have a little chat,” she said with a confident smile.

“How do you figure that I’m Starfleet?” he wanted to know.

“It’s pathetically obvious who you and your herd of women really are,” she ventured. “You and the little Swiss Miss read like an open book. The Andorian’s pretty sly but she’s a little too alert. As for your CO, she’s got an unstable warp core rammed up her backside.”

“What is it you want?” he inquired while trying not to agree about Halifax.

Her smile grew appreciative. “Very smart. Most would have asked who I was first.”

“I’m assuming by the way you watched us in the pub, and took off before trouble started, that you’d rather not tell me your name,” Riker surmised.

“As I said, smart.” He could tell she was enjoying herself.

“So that just leaves two options,” Riker stated.

“And they are?” she asked innocently.

“You’re here to help or you’re here to hand me over to the wolves,” he said.

“Well, I’m not much on handing over anyone to wolves so I guess I have to help,” she said.

“So who are your friends?” he repeated.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re ready for that particular answer. Let’s just say that for now I’m on Starfleet’s side,” she suggested.

“Compared to normal?” he wondered.

She grinned. “Like I said, I don’t think you’re ready for the complete truth.”

“Then what truth am I ready for?” he returned the grin.

“You want the buyer for the isolytics. I happen to know who that is. Well, we know,” she amended at the end.

Riker was stunned and it showed. She laughed, “Are you wondering why it’s so obvious or are wondering whether or not you should try and drag me off to your friends upstairs?”

“A little bit of both,” he admitted.

“If you want to know where my friends are, lay one finger on me and you’ll find out,” she advised. “As for why I want to help, I happen to know why the buyer wants them and where they’ll be used.”

“Let’s just imagine for a second that I’m buying into this,” Riker said. “Who’s the buyer?”

“The Cardassian Central Command,” she asserted.

“But why?” Riker was flummoxed. “The Cardassians can just build their own. Why do they need to import them?”

“Because if they build them, the warp signatures will be unmistakably Cardassian. They need plausible deniability. They need to be able to say the detonations were malfunctions from a local player who shopped off world,” she explained.

“And who is the local player?” Riker inquired. She just eyed him and he grimaced, “I’m not ready for that answer. Yeah, I got it.”

“Look, you don’t have much time. The Cardassians are coming,” she reiterated.

“This planet is in Federation territory,” Riker protested.

The woman snorted, “When has that ever stopped the Cardies? Look, they don’t care about borders because everything belongs to them, or at least it should.”

This was spoken with such vehemence that Riker was momentarily taken aback. “Okay, let’s just say I have a starship nearby that can intercept them.”

“The Gandhi,” she inserted the name.

He was becoming seriously unnerved. “Why don’t you just deal with the problem yourself if you’re so high and mighty?”

She looked sad. “Because we’re not. This time around, we’re just well informed. And besides, this is aStarfleet-type problem and we’re definitely not Starfleet.”

“Then how can you help?” he wondered.

She slid a PADD across the tabletop his way. “This outlines everything. Do with it what you will.”

She started to move away and he called after her, “How will I find you to thank you?”

She smiled over her shoulder at him. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you. If the time is right, I’ll collect my thanks. And just so you know, my name’s Kalinda.”

She strolled away and he looked at the PADD, perusing its contents. “Targets in the DMZ?” He looked at where “Kalinda” had been. This game was getting bigger all the time.

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"Decisions" Chapter Two / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

“Well, Lieutenant, we can have your transport’s warp and impulse drives up in four hours,” Lt. Commander Orca Borien, the Gandhi’s Chief Engineer, informed him. “Give us another two hours and we can every system up and running.”

“What about the cloak?” Riker inquired.

Borien wore a sly smile. “You know cloaking technology is illegal in the Federation.”

Riker gave him a wry smirk. “Commander, what about this ship is legal?”

Borien nodded. “Good point. I’ll see what I can do. Between the warp core going down and the fusion reactor scramming, the cloak’s endured a lot of surges. It may not be operable.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Riker assured him.

Four hours later, Moneii assembled Commander Halifax, Wren, and Riker. She wore a very dour expression. “It seems Admiral Ross likes your idea, Mr. Riker. Therefore, under orders, I am authorizing this mission proposal.”

She nodded towards Halifax. “Commander Halifax will personally lead the mission. Mr. Riker, since this fiasco was your idea, you’re tasked with being her deputy. Lt. ann’Deri, you will assemble a security team and prepare to go undercover.”

Moneii steepled her fingers again. Gazing over them, she gave them a flinty look. “We need a CONN officer and an engineer. Any suggestions?”

“I recommend Ensign Vallis,” Riker blurted out before Halifax could speak.

Moneii gave Halifax a glance. The Commander gave an almost imperceptible nod. Moneii put her clasped hands on her desk. “Very well. Ensign Vallis it is. You have some planning to do, so you are all dismissed.”

“Meet in briefing room two in forty-five minutes,” Halifax instructed Wren. She then turned to Riker. “You. Follow me.”

They exited the ready room and went straight for the turbolift. Halifax maintained a composed silence. Riker sensed she was merely presenting a pretense. They headed into her office. Upon entering, the door sealed and Halifax whirled on him.

“Why Vallis? What aren’t you telling us?” she asked sharply.

“Ensign Vallis is not only a qualified helmsman, but she holds several PhD equivalents. The majority of those are in engineering. She had her choice between engineering and flight ops and she chose the CONN but she’s fully qualified for either position,” Riker shared.

“You seem to know quite a bit about Ensign Vallis,” Halifax observed. “That doesn’t fit your usual MO.”

“She recently shared her story with me,” Riker admitted. “That made me think of her when this mission first occurred to me. I looked up her personnel file and found she was qualified for the task.”

“And that’s your only interest?” Halifax was dubious.

“Yes, it is,” Riker strongly asserted.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Halifax commented. “But she is an excellent recommendation, so I backed your play back there. Don’t expect a freebie next time.”

Halifax stared him down. “And for the record, I am in command of this mission. Is that fully understood?”

“Duly noted,” Riker assured her.

“You’re dismissed,” Halifax gruffly informed him. “See you in the briefing room in thirty-five minutes.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Riker said and departed.

Halifax was left wondering where all of this would lead.

Halifax spent her time before the planning session pouring over Vallis’ records. The clone had completed Starfleet Academy in just two years instead of the usual four. She’d challenged every academic course and passed them all so she didn’t have to attend classes. She’d concentrated on command track courses and flight operation training. Riker had been right. She was imminently qualified to both pilot the Precariousand to disarm the isolytic weapons — if they found any.

Halifax had her doubts regarding that. It seemed too coincidental that they found the transport in the first place, and even more so that Riker was able to retrieve the data he recovered. But then again, the average criminal was a rather stupid creature. It might be possible after all. Admiral Ross certainly felt it was.

Halifax received word from Borien that his people had disabled the isolytics. The ship would be fully prepped in an hour. The planning session was done and Halifax had sent everyone to their quarters to change into civilian garb.

Halifax presented the plan to Moneii. The captain’s mien was grave. “Do you think this plan has merit?”

“I think it can work,” Halifax admitted. “Wren and Riker put together a solid proposal. I just don’t know if we need to undertake this mission.”

“How so?” Moneii asked.

“Just how stupid are we supposed to believe these people were? What kind of gun runner leaves all of the evidence on their computer core?”

“They did try to erase the data. At least three times, if Riker’s report is accurate,” Moneii replied mirthfully.

“Do you really think the transport crew was that incompetent?” Halifax inquired. She knew her captain had spoken with the Precarious’ skipper.

Moneii chuckled humorlessly. “Let’s just say our good smuggler captain wasn’t exactly chosen for his genius.”

Moneii’s comm badge chirped and she tapped it in response. “Moneii here.”

“We finished ahead of schedule, Captain,” Borien reported. “I’m ready to hand over the ship to Commander Halifax at her leisure. It’ll take a minute to transfer the command codes. Lt. Riker will be able to do that easily enough. The trackers are embedded inside the isolytics rather than in the cargo pods. We don’t know if they’ll stay in the pods once they reach Hadon II, so I thought it would be an appropriate precaution. The subspace signature of the weapons themselves should mask the constant output of the tracker.”

“Will the weapons’ warp cores interfere with the trackers’ signals?” Moneii warned to know.

“Not according to our tests. A standard tricorder should be able to detect and follow the signals,” Borien explained.

“I understand,” Moneii assured him and cut the connection. Focusing on Halifax she smiled ruefully, “It seems you’re a ‘go.’”

“So it seems,” Halifax deadpanned. “You’ll escort us to the system?”

“And then we’ll hang back with the outer planets,” Moneii reassured her. “Yell and we’ll come running.”

“Good enough. I’ll round up my little lambs then.” Halifax exited and Moneii silently wished her well.

Riker and Vallis joined Halifax, Wren, and the two security men in the armory to be issued Type I “cricket” phasers. They had collected their tricorders and their non-descript comm badges before stopping here last. Everyone stowed their gear and then reported to the transporter room.

They materialized in the Precarious’ transporter room. Riker quietly checked himself. He didn’t feel duplicated again, but then again, he hadn’t the first time, either. Vallis gave him a sympathetic smile as if she knew his unspoken fear.

Borien was waiting for them. “Ah Riker, good. You can begin transferring command codes as soon as Commander Halifax is ready to input her necessary information.”

They went to the bridge. Various engineers were packing up and transferring back to the Gandhi. Riker established a subspace computer link with the starship. He downloaded the staff’s command code data. Turning to Halifax, he said, “Ready when you are, Commander.”

Halifax recited her verbal code and transferred the command codes to herself. Riker used his codes to establish himself as second in command. Vallis and Wren also coded in. The two security crewmen were included as ship’s crew but given no real authority.

“Wren, hail the Gandhi and tell them we’ll setting out in ten minutes at…?” Halifax looked to Borien.

“You have warp one through four available. But I’d keep it under three to be safe,” he shared.

“Inform then we’ll be proceeding at warp two,” Halifax ordered. She regarded Borien, “Thanks, Orca. For everything.”

“Not a problem. It was a challenge,” Borien replied.

“A challenge?” That certainly surprised her. “Come on, there has to be at least a thousand of these transports in service. The Lovell- and Antares-class transports are the most popular in space faring history.”

“But most of them don’t have cloaking devices,” Borien’s eyes twinkled. “Please express my regrets to Lt. Riker that I wasn’t able to get it working again.”

“Oh, I’ll be sure to do that,” Halifax said coldly.

Borien detected the sour note and excused himself. Halifax eyed Riker’s back. He was seated at the Ops station as he should be, busied in tasks to get the engines up and running. She wouldn’t interrupt him just yet.

Beside him sat Vallis at CONN. Halifax peered over her shoulder and saw that she was checking the navigation chart. She pulled up the data on Hadon II itself.

“What can you tell me about our destination, Ensign?” Halifax suddenly asked.

“Hadon II supports a Federation colony and is a Class-P world orbiting a Class-M star,” Vallis read off. As every Starfleet officer or NCO knew, that meant a glaciated world orbiting a red star. The “two” designator indicated the planet was the second world in and orbital track around the star labeled Hadon. To qualify as Class-P, Hadon II had to have more than 80% water ice, which meant the bulk of the colony was centered around the relatively temperate equator.

“Hadon was colonized in the late 22nd century, shortly after the foundation of the United Federation of Planets,” Vallis continued. “It’s a transportation hub.”

“Run that by me again?” Halifax requested.

“It’s a transfer center,” Wren put in. “Cargoes are exchanged at Hadon. The bulk of the surface construction is massive warehouses designed for the sole purpose of dropping off a cargo and picking up another.”

“Why not run the cargo all the way in yourself?” Halifax wondered.

“What if it’s a cargo you don’t want to be caught carrying?” Wren wryly suggested.

Halifax had to admit that isolytic weapons certainly qualified on that score. “Okay, I see your point. Riker, how long until we can get underway?”

“Engines read ‘green’ and are ready to be coaxed into action,” Riker answered.

“Just how much coaxing will they need?” Halifax sought clarification.

“I suggest not engaging the warp drive until after we’ve achieved three quarters impulse for five minutes, and then shift into warp and repeat the procedure before accelerating to warp two,” he explained.

“Got that, Vallis?” Halifax asked.

“Aye, ma’am!” Vallis enthused.

“ETA for Hadon?” Halifax inquired.

“Six hours at recommended speed,” Vallis shared.

Halifax thought of one last thing. “Mr. Riker, about the crew manifest?”

“I’m already working on modifying it to our needs, Commander,” Riker assured her.

Smart ass, Halifax thought sourly.

While they were underway, Halifax moved about the cramped cockpit that served as a bridge and moved to where Wren was sitting. She had some data pulled up on her display and was smirking.

“Reading something good?” Halifax asked. She noted the two security crewmen were making like a hole in the back of cockpit.

“This crew manifest,” Wren began to explain, “is genius.”

Halifax had rather been hoping that Wren wouldn’t pull it up. Riker had indeed outdone himself. He’d incorporated their Starfleet careers, with embellished criminal activities to support their resigning or being cashiered, and placed them aboard the transport together. Supposedly Halifax had acquired the ship from the previous captain as he went on the run from Starfleet Intelligence.

Halifax and her crew were listed as having participated in a mutiny aboard the U.S.S. Riviera a few years ago during the Border Wars. It was a real event and an unfortunately publically documented one. It madeMutiny on the Bounty pale in comparison. Having ostensibly served a six year sentence in the stockade on Jaros II, they were now out on parole and making their way as a freighter captain and crew.

The Precarious was a ship for hire and Transplanet Shipping had hired it for this run, which was true enough. The firm was legally documented within the Federation — On Izar, to be precise — but the headquarters in New Seattle proved to be empty. The U.S.S. Exeter had found a fictional front office handling messaging and correspondences for the corporate shell, but no logistical work was handled there, nor were any records to be found. The Precarious had made stops at Izar, Ferenginar, Oralliius, and Bajor. The ship had steadfastly avoided Deep Space Nine and skirted Starbase 310 alongside the Demilitarized Zone. Now she was headed for Hadon II near Starbase 129. The thing was, Hadon was still near the DMZ, but it was also near the end of the zone and skirted close to the Cardassian border.

It was the proximity to the border than had alarmed Starfleet Command, Halifax decided. The war between the Cardassian Union and the Federation had ended, but that peace was still rather recent and fragile. Still, she couldn’t imagine anyone in the Cardassians’ Central Command being stupid enough tobuy isolytics when they could produce them locally.

The hours had dragged by and finally Vallis announced, “We’ve reached the Hadon system and the Gandhiis dropping back.”

Halifax turned to Wren. “Inform the Gandhi we appreciated the escort and we’ll contact them as soon as we learn anything.”

Wren looked rather grateful to be doing something, so she got straight to it. Halifax knew how she felt. This was worse than conducting border patrols.

Riker had struck up a conversation with Vallis to pass the time. Or rather, he continued their earlier conversation. Inevitably, she brought up the dream woman that had kept his hopes alive for eight years.

Riker looked downcast as he answered, “Deanna was the most perfect woman I’d ever met.”

“Was?” Vallis sought clarification.

“She was aboard the Enterprise when they found me. When he found me,” Riker stipulated.

“The venomous ‘he’ being your ‘brother?’” Vallis wondered.

“Yes,” Riker grated. “He’s First Officer.”

“So are you,” Vallis said with a twinkle in her eye.

“Oh, yes. This is absolutely my dream posting,” he smarted off.

“Look at it this way: At least you’re here with me,” she commented. “Now what happened with Deanna?”

“My brother didn’t stay in the relationship. He sacrificed it for his career. They’re friends now, but I can see a glimmer of regret in both their eyes,” Riker commented.

“Why do I get the feeling you took advantage of that?” she asked.

“Hey, he blew it, not me. I would’ve made that date on Risa that he skipped out on. So I explained that to Deanna and we…” he trailed off.

“Transferred fluids,” Vallis chimed in.

Riker felt slightly embarrassed by the frankness of the conversation. “Yes. Captain Picard searched for an opening suitable to my talents. The Ops job aboard the Gandhi was open and it was close by, supporting a terraforming project, so they dropped me off.”

“The end of said project is where I came in,” Vallis said brightly. “So why didn’t Deanna follow you if the two of you were happy trading fluids?”

Riker felt unnerved. “She had a life and a career aboard the Enterprise. So like he stood her up eight years ago, she declined to come with me.”

Vallis didn’t seem to know how to respond to this. A beep from her console alerted her to the fact they were nearing the Hadon system. She dropped the transport out of warp at the edge of the system and Riker nodded his confirmation that the Gandhi had, too. She made her report to Halifax and prepared to actually do something.

Riker contacted the system’s traffic control center. He earned an approach path and an atmospheric insertion. They were landing the Precarious on the ground in order to deploy the entire away team. Otherwise, they’d have to leave a skeleton crew of at least one aboard.

They would also lose sight of the weapons, however temporarily. Halifax considered this an unacceptable risk. Riker had queried her as to what they would do if they did end up separated.

“That’s not an option, mister,” Halifax had sternly retorted.

The Precarious bucked and shook as it navigated the planet’s atmosphere. Although built like a wedge, the surfaces of the ship were still far from forming a delta wing. It was rather like crafting a paper airplane with its wings clipped short. The Precarious lived up to its name as it tried to do nothing better than nosedive straight into the ground below.

“Mr. Riker!” Halifax suddenly blurted, “Adjust the shields. It’s getting too hot in here.”

“Shields are at maximum, Commander,” he replied through gritted teeth. “I’ve adjusted the environmental controls to their maximum outputs. This is as good as it’s going to get.”

He half expected her to tell him that was unacceptable, but she refrained. He kept the ship from cooking while Vallis did her best to keep them from crashing. As they neared the spaceport, Vallis slowed their descent even more. This alleviated the friction and the interior began to cool off. He had to admit he and Vallis made a good team.

“Now if the landing struts haven’t melted,” Vallis muttered.

Riker grinned. “The antigravs have cycled and are back to full strength. You should be able to set us down just like a feather.”

“Here’s hoping,” Vallis said as she committed to the final landing sequence.

The ship sat down on its landing skids. There was an audible groan that reverberated through the hull and Vallis winced. Riker’s Ops board went insane.

“We’re showing systems failures all across the ship,” he announced. “Antigravs just overloaded and the RCS thrusters are now inoperative.”

He turned to face Halifax. “Seems we landed just in time.”

Halifax snorted. “Lucky for you the plan was always to abandon this derelict here.”

Wren had been watching the monitor feeds towards the cargo hatches. “Commander, a crew is here to offload us.”

Halifax grew reflective. “Maybe we’re making progress after all.”

The primary hatch opened and Halifax stepped out. The work crew was composed of a dozen bodies from a dozen different worlds. A half dozen races were represented.

“Where’s Captain Stovix?” a rough hewn human, built from pure muscle and possessing absolutely no neck, inquired.

Halifax gave the cover story. “Stovix opted to retire seconds before a Starfleet security team blew open his door. He sold me the Precarious beforehand and this contract came with the ship.”

“No one told us,” Muscleman replied.

“Now you’re being told,” Halifax said. “You have your cargo. Hand over my latinum and we’ll all go our separate ways.”

“Not so fast,” Muscleman warned. “Hand over your crew and cargo manifests. I’ll check with my superiors and then we’ll see if we do business.”

“Mr. Riker,” she snapped and held her hand over her shoulder. Riker handed her a PADD which she then thrust into Muscleman’s face. “There are my manifests. Satisfied?

“Think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?” he asked threateningly. “My bosses don’t like smart women.”

“They must be awfully lonely then,” she retorted.

“Fine. We’ll be taking your cargo now,” he announced.

She stopped him with a hand pushing back at his brawny chest. “Not so fast yourself. No payment. No cargo.”

“I told you, I have to run your credentials. Once the bona fides are double checked, then you’ll get your payment,” Muscleman grated.

“And that’s when you’ll get your cargo,” Halifax insisted.

Muscleman stared her down but Halifax never flinched. His eyes shifted to Riker’s. They were just as resolute. Wren’s looked predatory and the two men at her shoulders were coolly gathering for a fight. The only one who looked slightly intimidated was the small brunette.

“All right,” he conceded. “We’ll contact you later and we’ll make the exchange then.”

“So where do we meet?” Halifax asked.

“There’s a pub called the Grimshaw. We’ll meet there,” Muscleman informed her.

“How will we find it?” she wondered.

He smirked. “It’s the most famous establishment on Hadon. You won’t be able to miss it.”

They packed up and left. Halifax turned to the away team. “Everyone got your coats on?”

All but Wren nodded. Halifax resisted rolling her eyes and turned to the security men instead. “You two stay here and mind the store just in case they try anything.”

Halifax turned to Riker. “It seems our lives are in your hand at this moment.”

“Don’t worry,” Wren advised. “Like I said, those credentials were genius.”

Riker grinned and Halifax gave Wren a pained look. “Then it looks like we go pub crawling.

Feedback

Please send feedback and other correspondence regarding this story to Brin_Macen at yahoo dot com.

"Decisions" Chapter One / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

Rating: K+

Synopsis: Tom Riker faces new challenges and new choices aboard the USS Gandhi. After eight years alone on Nervalla IV, what will he do now that he’s surrounded by the crew of a starship? How will he differentiate himself from William Riker? One thing is for certain, it won’t be by playing it safe.

Chronology: Three months after the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode “Second Chances” in early 2370 and nine months before the Star Trek: Deep Space Nine episode “Defiant” in 2371.

"Betrayal" Chapter Eight / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

Sisko and Dax beamed down to their intended destination half a kilometer away from the farm. The entire group had transported back to the Rio Grande earlier before gearing up. They’d armed themselves with phasers. Dax also carried a tricorder.

“Shall we?” Sisko gallantly made a sweeping gesture to indicate the direction they should go.

“Let’s,” Dax curtsied and started down the road. Sisko accompanied her. She took readings as they approached the farm.

“I hope Julian made it down all right,” Dax fretted.

“O’Brien is an expert. He’ll set the doctor down where he can do the most good,” Sisko remarked.

“I am surprised, though,” Dax admitted. “I thought you found him to be too inexperienced for a task like this.”

Sisko chuckled. “I trust Bashir to stand back and provide cover fire. Have you ever looked up his proficiency ratings at the Academy?”

“Of course not,” Dax said with indignation. “That’s a CO’s purview. Although I bet Kira’s looked it up.”

“And Odo,” Sisko’s good humor grew.

“Is there a point to this conversation?” Dax asked with a longsuffering air.

“Bashir has some of the highest scores on the range of any cadet in his class. He’s good. Not phenomenal, despite his feelings regarding that matter, but he is good,” Sisko shared. “So while he is inexperienced, his role is to lay down suppressive fire to inhibit movemen,t not to pick off targets.”

“So, he has impressed you,” Dax ventured.

“I respect the Doctor’s professional skills,” Sisko clarified. “I still don’t think he’s fully qualified as field personnel and there’s no reason to expect him to be.”

“Yet you brought him along,” she pointed out.

“I was expecting casualties,” Sisko confessed.

“You didn’t expect Hudson to come quietly,” Dax surmised.

“Cal and I have stretched the boundaries of friendship to the breaking point and beyond. We areadversaries now and will treat each other accordingly.”

“Do you think he would kill you?” Dax asked softly.

Sisko let go of a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. He’s proven himself to be a killer. Why should I be immune if I stand in his way?”

“Well, he…” Dax began, but Sisko stopped abruptly, so she did as well.

Sisko’s feelings were very raw as he spoke. “Cal Hudson is a terrorist. He’s not a soldier any more. He certainly kills military targets but he also indiscriminately butchers civilians for no crime greater than working for the Cardassians. What is a man like that capable of?”

Dax let out a mournful sigh. “We’ve seen it too many times, Benjamin. He has to be brought in for his own good, not just the safety of others. You know what will happen to him if he has to live with himself.”

“Exactly,” Sisko agreed with new resolve. “So let’s keep walking.”

“One question though,” Dax insisted. “Why didn’t you involve the local constabularies?”

Sisko gave her a pained look. “They’re Cardassians.”

“I thought that’s why we were cooperating with them in the first place,” she dryly remarked.

“Cal’s a Maquis and the local police are Cardassians. How well do you think he would be received?” Sisko put it baldly.

“Gotcha,” Dax caught on. “Just asking.”

“We’re running late,” Sisko commented. “Care for a jog?”

She grinned, “Try and keep up.”

Bashir found himself in a peaceful wooded glen…and totally surrounded by armed strangers. One of them, whom he guessed was the authority here, strode towards him. She, at least, didn’t wave her phaser at him. She let her companions do that for her.

“Drop the phaser rifle,” she ordered, “And the phaser on your hip and you will hand over your comm badge.”

Bashir suddenly had a wild thought of tapping his comm badge and calling Sisko. The woman saw it in his eyes and smiled. “On second thought, I think I’ll take that comm badge.”

She removed it from his chest and handed it off to a young woman with violet hair. “Put this someplace safe, Alea.”

The younger woman blinked. “You shouldn’t have used my name, Kalinda.”

This amused Kalinda, “I’m sure Doctor Bashir here would be accurate enough in his descriptions of us for Starfleet Intelligence to identify us…particularly with that hair of yours.”

Alea blushed and moved off. Kalinda motioned for Bashir to step aside. When he did so, other Maquis retrieved his weapons. He scowled as they did so.

“Cheer up, Doctor. You’ve contributed to a noble cause,” Kalinda assured him.

“I don’t see how arming terrorists is serving a noble cause,” Bashir said spitefully.

“I see. You’re an expert on local conditions and politics then?” Kalinda asked.

“Of course not,” Bashir admitted.

“Then keep your mouth shut about things which you have no scope of,” Kalinda warned.

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” he baited her.

Kalinda tried to be reasonable. “No, but I will stun you for the sake of everyone here. Your voice carries, Doctor, and the occupiers have itchy trigger fingers.”

“I thought that pertained to your group as well,” Bashir smarted off.

“Do you see us storming the castle?” Kalinda dryly asked.

Bashir had to admit she had him there. “So what now?”

“Now we sit very quietly and see what your commander flushes out,” Kalinda explained.

“Now see here!” Bashir protested. Kalinda clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Quietly, Doctor! I won’t warn you again,” Kalinda stressed. “You can sit back and observe or you can take a nap while we do our business. Your choice.”

“Just how did you get here before us?” Bashir wondered.

Kalinda smirked, “It wasn’t that hard. The Maquis get things done while Starfleet holes up in hotel rooms.”

Bashir’s cheeks burned. Kalinda pushed him towards a nearby tree. “Sit.”

He planted himself on the ground and she motioned for another Maquis to take her place. He noticed with some satisfaction that it was the woman with the unusual hair. She squatted across from him and frowned.

“Why are you smiling?” she asked suspiciously.

“I’m just admiring you. I’ve never met anyone like you. Captain Rionoj comes the closest,” Bashir observed.

“She’s a Boslic,” Alea commented.

“Are you?” Bashir inquired.

Alea smirked, “No.”

“Then what are you?” Bashir asked after a moment’s hesitation.

“I’m me,” Alea said snarkily.

Kalinda came over. “I said to watch him, not to romance him.”

Alea gave her an angry stare as Kalinda went back to her preferred location. Bashir tried a more conciliatory tone. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“Just shut up,” Alea sullenly demanded.

“Really, I…” Bashir quieted down as Alea aimed her phaser at him.

“Not. Another. Word,” Alea grated.

Bashir settled in and wondered if he’d achieved something by becoming the Maquis’ first prisoner of war.

Kalinda flipped open an old surplus communicator and called Ro. “We’ve captured a Starfleet officer. The doctor of all people.

“Well, it’s not like this wasn’t expected,” Ro commented. “Any sign of the others?”

“None yet, but they can’t be far behind…” Kalinda trailed off. “Wait, they just came jogging up. Literally.”

“What are they doing?” Ro inquired.

“Catching their breath and heading for the front door of the bunkhouse,” Kalinda reported.

Kalinda could imagine Ro’s eye roll as she responded, “Keep an eye on the situation. We’re roiling in now.”

Kalinda knew that Ro and the assault team were a kilometer away on a side road. “Roger that. We’ll be ready and waiting.”

“Starfleet ought to pay us for rescuing their tactical geniuses,” Ro snorted before she cut the transmission.

Kalinda felt the same way.

Dax scanned the bunkhouse and frowned. “They’re not exactly hiding, Benjamin. We have human life signs mixed with one Vulcan and an Andorian. I mark a dozen Cardassians.” She put away the hand scanner. “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s knock on the door,” Sisko suggested.

As they approached, the door flew open and two armed Cardassians stepped out. More came jogging around the building. Given there were twelve inside the building to begin with, the four that had been on external foot patrol made sixteen.

“I’m Commander Benjamin Sisko,” he said. “I’m here to take Calvin Hudson into custody.”

The Cardassian everyone seemed to defer to suddenly laughed. “I heard comedy was a dying art among your people, Commander. But you seem to have a fine grasp of it.”

“It’s not a joke,” Sisko said sternly.

“It’s not?” the leader asked.

“Not even close,” Sisko assured him.

“Then we have a definite problem,” the leader informed him. “In that case, you will surrender your weapons and communications gear and step inside and join the other prisoners.”

“Are you suggesting that you’re taking us prisoner?” Sisko asked.

The Cardassian shook his head. “No Commander, I’m informing you that I am.”

“Your government will hear of this,” Sisko warned him.

The Cardassian chuckled. “Commander, I doubt they’ll even realize you’re gone before we have you on Cardassia Prime. It’s amazing how efficiently prisoners can be lost there.”

Sisko tried one last gambit. “This is an act of war.”

“So were the Maquis attacks on our colony. Consider this a counterstrike,” the Cardassian declared.

Sisko grated, “What is your name?”

“I am Feron,” he said. “That’s all you need know.”

Sisko reached for his phaser and Feron tucked his disruptor’s emitter end under Dax’s chin. “Ah, ah, Commander. You’re willing to lose your life but what about hers?”

Sisko dropped the phaser on the ground. Feron turned to Dax. “And now for you.”

Her eyes met Sisko’s and he nodded. She dropped her phaser and tricorder. Feron then plucked their comm badges off of their uniforms.

He motioned inside with his disruptor. “Come in here.”

They disappeared into the bunkhouse.

Outside, Kalinda swore and flipped open her communicator again. “Ro! Where are you? Starfleet just got taken prisoner.”

“We’re five hundered meters away. You’ll see us in any second,” Ro advised, and in a handful of minutes later, the scout car came sliding across the gravel and the Maquis deployed even before it came to a halt.

“Ben,” Hudson scowled.

“Hello, Cal. This isn’t the reunion that I had planned,” Sisko admitted.

“No, you intended to grab me at phaser point and slap binders on my wrists,” Hudson corrected him.

“Something like that,” Sisko said darkly.

“Now I suppose you’ll be joining us on Cardassia,” Hudson predicted.

“Not her.” Feron pointed at Dax. “Gul Evek is always looking for new comfort women. His supply of Bajorans has dried up. I’m certain he’d like to try an exotic Federation creature.” He laughed at seeing Dax’s revulsion. “Never fear, my pretty. Evek takes good care of his lesser lifeforms. As long as they please him.”

“I guess I’m going to be awfully mistreated then,” Dax warned.

The sound of crunching gravel interrupted Feron’s retort. He pointed at the door. “See what that is.”

The door opened and two Cardassians exited. The sound of phaser fire filled the air. Feron ordered his troops, “Alpha Team with me. The rest of you, fan out and deal with the intruders.”

The others went out a back door. Seconds later, more phaser fire could be heard. Feron called to certain Cardassians on his wrist communicator. There were no replies. He summoned reinforcements from the main house.

Heavy weapons fire sounded after that, as well as cries of pain. Feron called out repetitively but no one ever responded. Not even a wounded man, if there was such a thing.

Phaser fire rained down from the roof. The other four Cardassians fell to the ground. Feron had enough time to look to the roof and see a Bajoran woman and a human male on the rafters and crossbeams above. The woman had him in her sights and he knew that death had found him at long last.

After Feron was dealt with, Ro and Tulley climbed down. Tulley immediately aimed his phaser in Sisko and Dax’s direction. Ro checked in with Hudson.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “Can everyone move?”

“We can but how will we…” Hudson started to ask.

Ro squeezed his arm. “We have a military grade transport outside and a ship at the port. We are leaving, trust me.”

Hudson suddenly knew what Chakotay saw in her. Macius had been the one to take a chance on Ro and that belief had just paid itself back a thousand fold.

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible,” Sisko insisted. “Commander Hudson is my prisoner. He will stand trial…and so will you, Lieutenant Ro.”

Ro met his statement with an incredulous stare. “You are aware of the fact that you’re essentially myprisoner right now?”

“The Maquis don’t have the legal right to take prisoners,” Sisko argued. “Starfleet does.”

“And just how are you going to take us prisoner?” Ro wondered.

“I have a Federation warrant for Commander Calvin Hudson,” Sisko clarified. “I can get one for you, Ro Laren. In the name of expediency I’m willing to let the others go for now.”

Ro grinned. “Then it’s a good thing we’re not in the Federation.”

“Excuse me?” Sisko wasn’t certain he’d heard her correctly.

“We’re in the Demilitarized Zone, Commander,” Ro countered. “Show me a warrant from the central government of the DMZ and I’ll gladly turn myself in.”

Sisko was caught and he knew it as he admitted, “The DMZ lacks any centralized government.”

“Then I guess we’re free to go,” Ro sarcastically opined. She turned to Tulley. “Keep them here while I gather the others.”

Ro stepped away, flipped open her communicator and began speaking into it. Hudson turned to Sisko. “I’m sorry it had to be this way, Ben. But just to warn you, I’m not going to be brought in. Not now, not ever. Even if you manage to capture me somehow, I’ll never break and I’ll never talk. You can put me in the stockade on Jaros II until I die. I’ll never betray these people.” He smiled, “And now I think you can see how far they’ll go for me.”

The rear door opened and Kalinda marched Bashir in. He looked distraught to see Sisko and Dax overpowered as well. He miserably spoke to them.

“I’m sorry. I transported down and they were everywhere,” he lamented.

“Don’t take it personally, Doctor,” Kalinda reassured him. “Your friends were captured with ridiculous ease as well.”

Bashir brightened a bit until Sisko scowled at him. Sisko turned to Hudson and said, “You won’t be able to leave. I have a ship in orbit.”

“And how do you think my people arrived?” Hudson asked scornfully. “That they walked here from another solar system?”

Ro pulled Kalinda aside. “Have everyone gather up the Cardassians’ weaponry.”

“What about Starfleet’s?” Kalinda asked.

“Theirs too,” Ro answered. “Waste not, want not.”

Kalinda went outside and began issuing orders. A few moments later, she paged Ro with her communicator. Ro ordered Kalinda’s squad to mount up and take off for the spaceport.

Ro turned to the Starfleet officers and showed them their comm badges in her hand. “I’ll drop these off alongside the road at a safe distance. By the time you get back to your runabout, me and mine should be long gone.”

Sisko angrily stared at her and she shrugged, “I wouldn’t step out of that door until you hear us drive off. We’ll just stun you and it’ll take that much longer to return to your ship.”

A few hours later, Sisko and his companions found their comm badges sitting alongside the road as promised. Sisko wearily requested a transport. O’Brien beamed Sisko and Dax aboard and then grabbed Bashir. He was full of questions but Sisko derailed him with a question of his own.

“Have any ships lifted off in the last three hours?” Sisko wondered.

“Sure,” O’Brien answered. “At least half a dozen.”

“Were any headed for Ronara Prime or thereabouts?” Sisko clarified.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t tracking traffic. I suppose we could extrapolate it out of the sensor logs,” O’Brien offered.

“Never mind, Chief. Just head us towards home,” Sisko blearily ordered.

“Do you mind, Lieutenant?” O’Brien asked Dax before taking the CONN.

“Be my guest, Chief,” Dax said. “I’m going to crash on a cot in the lounge. Don’t wake me until we get there.”

Sisko sat at Ops, but he wasn’t saying anything. He seemed lost in thought and O’Brien didn’t want to disturb him. He had an alternate resource anyway.

“So Julian, what happened down there?” he asked.

Epilogue

Within twenty four hours the Maquis had spirited Hudson off of Ronara and onto another colony. The move was in case any of the Cardassian tracking stations put their movements together and sent more paramilitaries or even regular forcers to try to apprehend the Maquis Commander once again.

Ro actually thought it unlikely. She’d given the Cardies quite a bloody nose on this one. It would be some time before they crossed paths with her again.

Thinking about all of these events, she entered the Old Biddy. What she saw surprised her. She rather liked it. It was so much livelier than the drab sterility exuded by the place where she’d been recruited. That dive was becoming known as her cell’s favored meeting place. Perhaps it was time to move on after all.

As expected, Macen sat at a table waiting for her. He’d opted for a table in the middle of the room rather than the privacy of a booth. She complained about such as she sat down.

He wore a merry smile. “Then people think you’ve something to hide.”

“I do,” Ro wryly reminded him.

“But why advertise that fact?” he asked jovially. “So what do you think of the place?”

“It’s nice.” Ro wasn’t certain what was expected of her.

“The owner is very accepting of anyone that has coin in their pocket,” Macen shared. “He also insists that conversations remain discreet.”

Now Ro understood where Macen was going with the conversation. “I think I can swing some business his way.”

“So how are you settling into your new job?” he asked.

“I actually think I may be a good fit for it,” Ro admitted.

“You’re a natural,” Macen assured her. “But then, I’ve always thought so.”

“I’m not sure I’d be as certain about you,” Ro confessed.

Macen shrugged. “You’re bound to think so. It comes with your new job.”

“Do you honestly think you can pull this off?” Ro wanted to, no needed, to know.

“What did you think of our first collaboration?” Macen asked.

“It was perfect,” Ro admitted. “But how long will you be able to keep your access?”

“I don’t need access to Starfleet files. I did the job for fifty years. I’m pretty valuable on my own,” Macen countered. “Starfleet just pads the résumé.”

“Okay, let’s really look at this though.” Ro stated, “I can’t give you access to my cell. Not until you’ve proven yourself, really proven yourself.”

Macen chuckled. “Have I ever asked for anything?”

That gave Ro pause. “Well, no.”

“And that’s the way it’ll stay,” Macen promised her. “My people are a self-sustaining operation. Tells us what you need and we’ll do our best to get it. If we can’t we’ll simply say so. Deal?”

Ro thought it over. She really didn’t have anything to lose. She smiled at long last.

“Deal,” she said.

Sisko contacted Nechayev again. She was a little terser this time around. “I didn’t expect to hear back from you, Commander.”

“Why is that, Admiral?” Sisko asked.

“You didn’t exactly succeed, now did you?” she asked crossly.

“The Maquis arrived. Amazingly enough, they seemed to have all of the same intelligence that we had.” Sisko left the accusation unspoken.

“What, precisely, are you implying, Commander?” Nechayev asked sternly.

“You said that you had a contingency in play and lo and behold, the Maquis drop in,” Sisko explained before cutting straight to the point. “Where they your contingency?”

“Commander, you know the Maquis are considered criminals by Starfleet, and Starfleet is not in the practice of working with criminals,” Nechayev said archly.

“Starfleet has made notable exceptions in the past,” Sisko reminded her.

“The past is the past, Commander. Nowadays we don’t have cowboys for starship captains or admirals. You’re speaking of a bygone era,” Nechayev assured him. “I suggest you focus on your area of command and let others who are more attuned to the DMZ work within the DMZ. We have experts for a reason, Commander.”

“The DMZ is near my operational area. I feel…” Sisko began but was cut off.

“Commander, you have two frontiers. You are further out into the interior of the Alpha Quadrant than any other Starfleet commander and you have access to the Gamma Quadrant. Quite frankly, between those and overseeing the reconstruction aid to Bajor, you have your hands quite full.” Nechayev cut to the quick. “I don’t think you need to gallivant about and do some adventuring where you’re frankly not needed.”

Sisko bristled, “Yes, Admiral.”

“So you’ll leave the DMZ alone unless you’re ordered to return?” Nechayev demanded to know.

Sisko tried to remain civil. “Yes, ma’am.” Nechayev’s brusque manner wasn’t helping.

“Good.” Nechayev cut the transmission.

Sisko leaned back in his chair and thought over the events in the DMZ again. The Maquis had received help from an outside source. That source had obviously obtained information from Starfleet. He recalled the so-called “information broker.” He filed a report with Starfleet Security flagging Macen’s operation. He thought about filing one for Starfleet Intelligence, but reconsidered it. Macen had spent his career in intelligence. He undoubtedly still had friends there. Friends that would tip him off.

Sisko knew this hadn’t ended. In fact, things had only begun because he now had a vested interest in events in the DMZ. He would keep a close eye on that region from now on and one day, he would move against the Maquis again.

Acknowledgements

Thanks go to Bernd Schneider for designing the Blackbird-class scoutship.

Thanks also go to the contributors at Memory Alpha Wiki as well as the writers and editors of the Star Trek Encyclopedia 3rd Edition.

Geographic and spatial data was provided by Star Trek Star Charts.

Information was also gathered from the Deep Space Nine Technical Manual.

Feedback

Please send feedback and other correspondence regarding this story to Brin_Macen at yahoo dot com.

"Betrayal" Chapter Seven / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

The Rio Grande assumed orbit over Solosos. Dax had requested an orbital insertion rather than a reentry glide path. Sisko wanted the runabout in position to be a more effective tool in tomorrow’s operation.

He’d chosen to move in the local morning. Since the suspect farm was only sixty kilometers away from Zyrex, the closest city with a spaceport, he’d opted to spend the night in local accommodations and leave the runabout where it was. The ship’s systems would be locked out from any potential boarders.

They beamed down to the local streets and began wandering, looking for shelter. After being rejected by several proprietors, one warily agreed to let them stay. Although they carried no luggage, the guests were first shown to their rooms. They had three altogether.

O’Brien gave Bashir a rueful look. “Looks like we’re bunking together.”

“It’ll be interesting,” Bashir said.

O’Brien merely grunted in disgust. “I’d rather be aboard the ship.”

Sisko suggested that they try the local cuisine. They moved on to the attached pub. It was quite a contrast to the Old Biddy. For one thing, the bulk of the patrons were Cardassian. They noted that their uniforms drew a lot of hostile attention. They took a seat and ordered a meal from an indifferent server.

The Starfleet officers drew sullen stares from all of the Cardassian patrons. Although, to be fair, even the Federation colonists seemed embittered towards them. They ate quickly and returned to Sisko’s room.

Sisko retrieved his PADD and the others groaned but did likewise. They reviewed Starfleet’s intelligence again. Dax voiced the opinion that there had to be more. The picture was too incomplete. Bashir suddenly brought up the idea that Starfleet shouldn’t run an operation within an operation.

“I mean, what if we end up working at cross purposes?” Bashir wondered.

“Admiral Nechayev is famed for her efficiency. She may see the overlap as just another surety of success,” Sisko tried to defend the official line.

“Curzon didn’t think much of her,” Dax revealed. All eyes turned to her. “He saw her too concerned with results to worry about how she got them. They butted heads on several occasions.”

“And how’d that work out?” O’Brien was curious.

“Let’s just say in the end it was probably a draw,” Dax admitted, “And Nechayev has a long memory. She’s a political player with capital to burn. It may have made her arrogant.”

“I remember hearing about her coming aboard the Enterprise. Seems even Captain Picard walked on eggshells around her,” O’Brien shared.

Sisko was impressed. His impression of Picard was that the patrician officer wouldn’t easily bend for anyone. He’d received a similar vibe off of Nechayev. He wondered what it had been like for two unmovable objects to collide.

“I agree,” Sisko admitted. “Admiral Nechayev has potentially set us at cross purposes with another Starfleet team. Our assignment has gotten immeasurably harder rather than easier.”

“What if they’re not Starfleet?” Dax asked. Everyone cast her wary looks. She shrugged in return. “Nechayev was a big booster for ramping up Starfleet’s civilian corps of intelligence gatherers and she plays favorites. Any one of them could now be in the DMZ getting ready to effect a rescue.”

“Let’s not forget the portion where she said that Hudson would be silenced one way or another,” Bashir reminded everyone. They had all seen the copy of her transmission with Sisko. While that statement had unsettled them all, it seemed to especially bother Bashir.

Sensing the need to change the topic, Sisko stood and announced, “Let’s take break. Check in here in four hours.”

“Commander?” O’Brien seemed hesitant.

“Yes, Chief?” Sisko tried to be encouraging.

“Seeing as how this is now primarily a Cardassian colony, I think we should treat it as hostile territory,” O’Brien suggested. “We should travel in pairs and within sight of the group.”

“What about our rooms?” Dax asked suddenly.

“I don’t follow you,” O’Brien admitted.

“Well,” her eyes danced mirthfully, “If we’re to stay in pairs and within sight of the group, we’re going to have to share one room. And it suspiciously sounds as though the boys all want to get in bed with me.”

O’Brien blushed and Dax laughed. “Why Chief, is that a little guilt showing? Don’t worry, I won’t tell Keiko.”

Dax noted the Irishman’s immediate relief. However, Bashir looked a little too intrigued by the possibility. “Julian, you can forget it. I’m sleeping alone tonight. Although, I’d prefer it to be otherwise.”

“I’ll be alone as well,” Sisko decided, “But you and the doctor can still share a room, Chief.”

O’Brien detected Sisko’s humor at play. He nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“But what is there to do?” Bashir lamented.

“Well, if you’re so interested in sharing a bed, you could check out the local women,” Dax suggested.

“Indeed!” Bashir brightened.

Dax was happy to see Bashir wasn’t sullied with prejudices, but he seemed a little too eager. “What do you have in mind, Julian?”

“Well,” he began slyly, “There is the mystery of the ‘third spoon.’”

“The what?” O’Brien made the mistake of asking.

“Well we all know that Cardassians bear a physical mark resembling a spoon on the foreheads.” Bashir was still grinning.

“Yeah, that’s why we called them ‘spoonheads.’” O’Brien remarked, “So did the Bajorans. So what?”

“Well, Cardassian women also bear another mark where their clavicle bones join together,” Bashir continued. He could see his audience wasn’t very receptive yet, but he’d saved the best for last. “There’s a rumor that there’s a third spoon on Cardassian women’s bodies. I’d like to find out where it is.”

“Bloody hell,” O’Brien muttered.

Sisko didn’t quite trust himself to react. Dax, on the other hand, was totally amused. “Trust me, Julian. You can’t handle that truth.”

“I’m just as much a scientist as you are,” Bashir sniffed.

Dax broke into a fit of laughter. When it had ended, she was flushed and so was Bashir. “Good luck with that, Julian. Really. I mean it.”

She began to chortle again when Bashir turned to O’Brien. “Ready, Chief?”

“Ready for what?” O’Brien asked defensively.

“You did suggest that we travel in pairs, Chief. It was a good idea. I think we should stick with it while we’re in public areas,” Sisko said dryly.

Bashir gave O’Brien a baleful look. The Chief rolled his eyes. “Oh for the luvva… All right. I’ll go, but stop looking at me like a wounded puppy.”

Bashir cheered up immediately. “Too right! Follow me, Chief.”

Bashir practically sprinted out the door while O’Brien ambled after him. He could be heard calling, “Slow down, Julian. No one is going anywhere.”

Dax bemusedly looked to Sisko. “Is it really wise letting Julian loose on Cardassian women?”

“Given the traditional xenophobia displayed by Cardassians in general, do you really think he’ll get anywhere?” Sisko humorously asked.

“Well, the Cardassians do take ‘comfort women’ everywhere they go,” Dax pointed out.

“Comfort women,” Sisko repeated. “Have you ever heard of ‘comfort men?’”

Dax snickered. “No. Poor Julian.”

“I believe the good doctor asked for this of his own accord,” Sisko grinned.

“Now what?” she asked eagerly.

“Now we pour over the materials again and see if there’s anything we missed,” Sisko said.

Dax pouted. Sisko ignored her so after a moment she began asking questions regarding if Sisko remembered certain events with Curzon. Sisko played along for several minutes but then redirected back to the task at hand.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I liked it better when I was the senior official and you did my fetch and carry.”

“That was another life, Old Man,” Sisko chuckled.

Dax smiled warmly. “So it was.”

Roughly four hours later, Bashir and O’Brien returned to Sisko’s room. Bashir was downtrodden, but the Chief was pretty upbeat. Bashir’s uniform was also covered by an oily green substance. Dax took a whiff and smiled, “Kanar.”

“What happened?” Sisko was desperately trying not to laugh.

“Wonder Boy here tried to romance every woman in the bar,” O’Brien recalled. “It seems a few of them, although they rejected him, felt put upon by his simply switching to a new target when shot down. They surrounded him and poured their drinks all over him and stormed out together. At that point, the proprietor kicked us out for chasing his business away,” O’Brien happily shared.

“Oh, Julian,” Dax said sympathetically, “I did warn you though.”

“Thank you, Jadzia,” Bashir said. “Commander, could I return to the Rio Grande and replicate a new uniform?”

“No,” Sisko replied, still trying not to laugh out loud.

“But Commander!” Bashir whined.

“No,” Sisko said much more forcefully. “We have an ops plan and no one is going anywhere until we’re reviewed it.”

Even O’Brien sighed over that. They gathered chairs and sat in a circle around a table stand. They’d surrendered their PADDs to Sisko earlier. He redistributed them now.

“You’ll find the plan loaded on each PADD,” Sisko shared. “Chief, it could still use some refining. If I remember correctly, you served on Solosos during the war.”

“That’s right,” O’Brien replied uncomfortably.

“Is there anything you can share about the target area?” Sisko wondered.

O’Brien looked pained. “Look Commander, I spent most of my time keeping my head down and our unit’s equipment running. I can tell you that these farms are a dime a dozen.”

“I’m not sure I follow you,” Sisko admitted.

“They’re all the same. It happened because the colony relied upon prefab construction materials. So every house looks like every other house and it’s the same with the bunkhouses,” O’Brien shared. “I can give you a rough outline, but the orbital views we got from Starfleet will spell out the terrain a lot better that I can. I can’t say I’ve ever been there but I can tell you that, except for the terrain, it’ll look just like its neighbor,” O’Brien elaborated.

Sisko nodded. “Thank you, Chief. We’ll need your knowledge of the interiors in a moment.”

Sisko stated that they’d be transporting to the Rio Grande in the morning and from there to the farmhouse. Sisko and Dax would try the front door while Bashir rested in a nearby grove of trees as back up. Sisko turned to O’Brien.

“Sorry, Chief. You’re staying aboard the runabout to man the transporter,” Sisko informed him.

O’Brien looked irked. “The runabout’s computer can handle the transporter, like usual.”

Sisko gave him a wry look. “Humans are faster with the transporter than a computer any day. You’re even faster than most because you excelled at being a transporter chief. I need you aboard the Rio Grande. Our lives could depend upon it.”

“But you need someone in the trees to provide cover fire if the Cardassians call reinforcements from the house,” O’Brien argued.

“That’s where Doctor Bashir will be stationed,” Sisko said.

O’Brien turned to gaze at Bashir. The doctor was elated to be trusted with the responsibility, yet was unsteady all at the same time. O’Brien had seen that same expression hundreds of times on the front lines.

“All right,” he skeptically said to Sisko. Turning to Bashir, he added, “I’ll give you some pointers tomorrow. Just to be sure.”

Bashir wore a grateful smile. “Thanks, Chief.”

Sisko went on to describe the plan as it stood. He then asked if everyone understood. Everyone nodded. He noticed O’Brien still wasn’t happy but he’d do his duty unflinchingly.

“Good night then,” Sisko dismissed them. “We’re setting out at 0800 local time.”

“See ya, boys,” Dax said as she strolled out of the room.

Bashir looked to Sisko imploringly. “Can I have my own room as well?”

O’Brien looked affronted and Bashir sheepishly explained, “No offense, Chief. But you snore.”

“I do not!” O’Brien insisted.

“Chief, Keiko has come to me and asked if a separate living module could be added to your quarters and if we could soundproof it,” Sisko revealed.

“Of all of the…” O’Brien muttered as he rose. He turned to Bashir. “Coming?”

Bashir looked to Sisko one last time and the commander nodded. Bashir had a defeated air as he followed O’Brien to their room. Sisko chuckled as he went to the bed and tested it. He lay down and switched his PADD’s displayed document to a book he was reading. Almost unconsciously, he switched it back to the operations plan and began to read through it again.

The SS Indomitable flew through space at impulse as it entered the star system containing Solosos. Ro sat at the helm and flew her ship herself, just as Chakotay commanded from the CONN. Kalinda sat at ops beside her. She monitored the ship’s systems despite Thool managing things in engineering. Tulley manned the weapons console to Ro’s left. The final station was taken by Alea. She monitored the sensors and she’d just gotten a hit.

“Ro, I’m detecting a Cardassian shuttle. Just like you said,” Alea reported.

“Transfer its position to the helm and keep a running update to the navigation systems,” Ro replied.

Kalinda grinned over at Ro. “Good call. They’re coming in straight from the Cardassian border, just like you predicted.”

Ro grimaced. “Don’t thank me yet. That shuttle will be armed and we haven’t tested the Indie’s weapons or shields.”

“I think we’re about to get that test,” Kalinda smirked.

“Right,” Ro agreed grimly. “Tulley, arm weapons and raise shields.”

Tulley acknowledged the order and Ro’s status indicator shifted. The shuttle was up on the navigational sensors now. Ro angled her ship for maximum effect. She gave the order to fire and Tulley unleashed a volley from both wingtip-mounted Type VIII phasers.

Ro fired the thrusters and halved the impulse output. The Indie pulled a tight Immelman turn and came back at the Cardassians. They managed to return fire this time. The shields took a hit and deflected most of it, but some of the energy bled through and systems aboard the Indomitable overloaded.

“Damage report!” Ro snapped.

“Some primary systems have gone down and auxiliaries have engaged,” Kalinda reported. “But the backups are unstable. We may lose them if we take another couple of hits.”

“Tulley, load photons,” Ro ordered.

“We only have four,” he reminded her.

“So load two of the damn things, use one, and see if we need to use the other. Okay?” Ro argued.

“Photons loaded,” he reported.

“I’m lining us up. Take the shot ASAP because we’re going to be taking fire and I want to angle us away as soon as the torpedo is off,” Ro explained her plan.

Tulley grinned. “At your command.”

The scoutship was bucking from disruptor strikes and the shields were rapidly losing efficiency and strength. Ro ordered the strike. The port launcher yielded a photon. It streaked straight and true into the Cardassian shuttle.

The shuttle’s shields were already failing when the photon warhead totally overloaded them. The shuttle wasn’t destroyed, but that was by the barest of margins.

“The shuttle is crippled. She’s lost structural integrity and is venting atmosphere,” Alea informed Ro.

Ro fell silent. Kalinda looked over at her with some concern. “We can’t handle prisoners until we run the operation.”

“And where would we hold them anyway?” Ro asked bitterly.

“Orders?” Tilley inquired.

Ro set course for Solosos. “Let nature take its course.”

They all fell silent at that. A staple of interstellar travel was rendering aid to a crippled ship. They’d just crossed a line they could never walk away from.

“On to our real mission,” Ro said as she piloted the ship towards the planet.

Ro landed the Indie at the appropriate spaceport. She was three times the size of a standard runabout. but she was still much smaller than some of the freighters that had touched down here. It was close to dawn. Ro checked in with Thool. His engineers would man the ship will the strike team went out.

“Your friend will be ready for us?” she asked archly.

“Belieze is waiting for you,” Thool assured her. “She’ll have everything ready for you.”

“And how much is this going to cost us?” Ro wanted to know.

Thool grinned, “It’s on the house.”

Ro shared his grin. “My kind of price.”

They met Belieze at her shop, where she ran an equipment rental agency. She had heavy equipment of all types and places of origin. She brought Ro and the Maquis to two six wheeled rovers.

Kalinda sneered. “Those are Cardassian military scouts,” she complained.

“They’re the civilian model,” Belieze retorted, “And unlike most Cardassian equipment, they’re utterly reliable.”

“We’ll take them,” Ro said gratefully.

“Hold on.” Kalinda drug Ro off to the side. “They’re Cardassian!”

Ro shrugged. “So’s the disruptor you’ve been using for the last six weeks.”

Kalinda was stymied and she knew it. “Do you even know how to drive one of things?”

Ro smirked. “Of course. The Cardies drove all over Bajor in these monsters. I was stealing them before my twelfth birthday.”

Kalinda grimaced. “Well, I don’t know how, so you’re going to have to show me.”

It actually took Ro only a few minutes to show Kalinda the basics. Hopefully, they wouldn’t need any fancy driving. Ro doubted the average garresh or gorr knew how to copy moves Ro had been performing in these vehicles since her youth in the Resistance.

They loaded up and took off. Kalinda was tentative at first but she quickly got the hang of things. So they tore down the public road towards their target.

Acknowledgement

Many thanks to Bernd Schneider of Ex-Astris-Scientia.org for designing the Blackbird-class scout vessel mentioned in this story.

Feedback

Please send feedback and other correspondence regarding this story to Brin_Macen at yahoo dot com.

"Betrayal" Chapter Six / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

Ro rose from the desk and approached Macen. He simply sat there, studying her. Finally she smiled.

“Oh, get up so I can say hello to you properly,” she insisted.

Macen stood. He knew that Ro’s height had a tendency to intimidate most men. Many of the women she’d served with had been bothered it by it as well. The first man who didn’t seem bothered was Picard. It didn’t bother some people just because they were taller than her. Will Riker and Worf fell under this category. Macen knew he also belonged to this group. He’d wondered, while she loomed over him, how he’d react if he knew she was actually taller than him.

He shrugged the thought aside. It was a moot point anyway, but it was a factor that could affect him with someone else, so it was important to keep in mind. He held out his hand for her grasp it after he’d stood and she smirked.

“Am I allowed to hug you now that we’re both out of uniform and you don’t outrank me anymore?” she asked.

Macen smiled. “Sure.”

Ro warmly embraced him and then stepped back, but she gripped his shoulder. “Prophets, it’s good to see you again.”

This amused Macen since they’d only met once before. He’d been the mission specialist on a mission she’d led. It had been her first command experience and she’d outperformed herself. Afterwards, Macen had suggested to Picard that she attend Advanced Tactical Training. This surprised Picard. The captain had already considered her, but he also had a few other candidates in mind. When Riker endorsed her as well following the mission, Ro turned into the candidate of choice.

“We only worked together once, Laren,” Macen downplayed her happiness.

“But we kept in touch until I went AWOL,” Ro countered. “And your constant advice to follow my conscience is why I abandoned Starfleet.

Macen grinned ruefully. “I wouldn’t advertise that fact.”

Ro nodded her understanding. She eagerly posed the question on her mind. “So what are you doing in my neighborhood? Did you come to sign up?”

“I came to help,” Macen admitted.

“Why do I get the feeling that’s not an answer?” Ro asked warily.

“I can help, just on your terms,” Macen informed her.

“What does that mean?” There was an edge to her voice now.

“Nechayev recruited me to recruit you,” Macen revealed. “A fact you are not supposed to know.”

“I bet,” Ro snorted.

“Look, the arrangement is fairly simple. You wouldn’t report to Starfleet. You wouldn’t report to Alynna. You’d be free to do as you wish,” Macen assured her.

“I have that now. Why do I need Nechayev crawling up my backside?” Ro was bitter.

“She’s only the source. I’m the pipeline,” Macen stated.

“The pipeline for what?” Ro suspected a trap.

“I can provide intelligence from Starfleet. That kind of data can expand your operations. I can give you enemy troop movements, ship deployments, and the location of Cardassian paramilitaries,” Macen disclosed. “And I can provide details of when Starfleet is closing in on your operations. All you have to do is accept my offer and act upon the intelligence I provide.”

“What makes you think you can get all of that information on a consistent basis if I accept?” Ro narrowed the question down.

“Because I’m licensed to operate within Cardassian space.” Macen dropped that bombshell as though it were nothing. Ro was understandably stunned.

“How did you manage that?” Ro asked. “The Cardies are paranoid bastards. Why would they let a so-called ‘information broker’ into their territory? Civilian or not?”

“Because they see me as primarily being a purveyor of luxury items from locations they no longer have access to,” Macen grinned.

“You’re a smuggler?” Ro couldn’t believe it.

“Look, a few baubles here or there won’t tilt the economies of either side, and if it grants me the access that I need…” He let the thought hang. “I’d say that’s worth it.”

“Okay, say I’m taking this seriously, which I’m not yet. What do you have to offer?” she inquired.

“Give me an hour and I’ll have your answer,” Macen assured her.

“An hour?” Ro was skeptical.

“It took twenty minutes to get here,” Macen replied. “It’ll take twenty minutes to get back. Figure five to ten to get somebody from the Odyssey to beam us up. I will require the release of my first officer. Twenty minutes to load the data onto a PADD and five to ten to return to the surface. Then I can meet with your goon squad again.”

“Okay, but I haven’t told you what information I’m looking for,” Ro reminded him.

He smiled. “You want what everybody wants: the location of Cal Hudson.”

Ro tried not to visibly react. “And you can get that?”

“I already knew where they took him after the kidnappers left Umoth. I just don’t know if they’re still there,” he shared.

“Starfleet knows where he is?” Ro snapped. “Then why the hell is Sisko running around asking about it?”

“Starfleet knows. They’ve always known. They’re just not telling Sisko,” Macen revealed.

“But why?” Ro was flabbergasted.

“Because someone cut a backdoor deal with the Cardassians to eliminate the ‘Maquis problem,’” Macen divulged.

“Why the hell isn’t Nechayev going along with this?” Ro wondered. “It seems to be her style.”

“Alynna didn’t broker the deal. If she had, she’d be more than happy to let Hudson hang,” Macen admitted.

“Lovely,” Ro sardonically quipped. “All right,” she sighed. “If you know the problem you also know we have to move fast.”

“Faster than you think,” Macen warned. “Evek will be in position to launch a long-range shuttle in twenty hours.”

“Why the hell is he waiting for twenty hours?” Ro cried out in exasperation.

“Evek purposefully took the patrol route furthest from Solosos,” Macen grinned. “That’s where Hudsonwas taken, by the way. Anyway, it offered him plausible deniability when Sisko started trying to track Hudson down.”

“All of this cloak and dagger idiocy is giving me a headache,” Ro complained.

“Never fear, all will be well,” Macen replied jauntily. “Summon your minions have me dropped off in Enara again.”

“You’d better not screw with me,” Ro warned.

Macen looked hurt. “Believe me, Laren. We’re actually on the same side. I share the goals of the Maquis. I can just do more damage to the Cardassians on the periphery of the fight than in the middle of it.”

“That remains to be seen,” Ro said skeptically. She pressed a button on her desk and Tulley and his partner in crime entered in. The other Maquis put the hood over Macen’s head and shoved him out of the office space.

Ro motioned for Tulley to step closer. “Take Alea with you.”

“Why?” Tulley sounded dubious.

“I need her to read over the information Macen is going to give us before you return to base,” Ro said snippily.

“Problems?” Tulley asked.

“The Cardies are moving a hell of a lot faster than we’d hoped for. We have to be ready to move as soon as possible,” Ro explained.

“I’ll send Kalinda your way,” Tulley informed her.

Ro patted him on the arm. “Thanks Aric. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Tulley exited the space wearing a genuinely happy smile.

Sisko sat in the Rio Grande’s cockpit while the others sat in the rear crew compartment. They’d enjoyed a meal and now O’Brien and Bashir were playing a game of darts. They’d brought a spare board and darts that they’d squirreled away in case the one at Quark’s was taken down. Dax downloaded some material into a PADD and returned to the cockpit. She sat at the conn reading while Sisko navigated Starfleet Command’s hierarchy from ops.

Dax smiled to herself as he navigated the depths of Starfleet Security’s command structure. She had to give him credit when he arrived at the Director of Starfleet Security’s desk twenty minutes later. Admiral Furrst gazed back at Sisko with some irritation.

“Well, Commander, you’ve thoroughly disrupted my staff to the point they foisted you off on me. What can I possibly do for you?” Furrst asked with some irritation.

Sisko came straight to the point. “I need the whereabouts of Calvin Hudson and the identities of his captors.”

Furrst smiled. As a Caitian, that revealed a healthy set of fangs. “I see. And who will you contact when I tell you to go to hell?”

“Excuse me?” Sisko couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

“Hudson is dead or will soon be wishing he was,” Furrst replied. “Measures have already been taken since Hudson’s defection to the Maquis, so his loss will be negligible.”

“Admiral, I was ordered to capture Hudson, not to hand him over to the Cardassians,” Sisko pointed out.

“So?” Furrst wondered. “The end result is the same.”

“Not for Hudson,” Sisko grated. “Surrendering him is tantamount to a death sentence even if the Cardassians sentence him to a labor camp.

“Calvin Hudson knew the risks he was taking when he resigned his commission. Frankly, I don’t believe Starfleet owes him anything,” Furrst shared. He studied Sisko. “You’re bound and determined to go over my head, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Admiral,” Sisko confirmed. “I’d like to speak with Admiral Marne.”

Furrst smiled again. “Marne recently stepped down. He was replaced by the newly-promoted Fleet Admiral Nechayev. Good luck swaying her.”

The screen shifted to a Starfleet Command symbol. Within minutes an ensign answered. She looked distinctly harried, but she promised that Nechayev would get back to him as soon as possible. Sisko settled in to wait.

While he waited, he recalled what he knew of Alynna Nechayev. She had risen through the ranks in Starfleet Intelligence Operations. SI Operations frequently worked alongside Special Operations Command. They were the “dirty tricks” department of Starfleet.

Nechayev rose quickly while developing a reputation for getting the job done. She also developed a reputation as the “Ice Queen” of Starfleet Command upon achieving flag rank. She and Edward Jellico had been friends for years. It galled Jellico that she had risen to Starfleet Command before him, but also had risen to Vice Admiral and now Fleet Admiral while he had just made flag rank himself rather recently.

Jellico put the delay in his promotion to Nechayev’s supposed interference. Now Jellico was Chief of Operations and it seemed Nechayev had assumed Marne’s old role as the overseer of both Starfleet Intelligence and Starfleet Security. She effectively wielded the twin swords that protected interior and exterior security.

The screen shifted and Sisko refocused. A woman with Slavic features, pale blonde hair, and cool eyes hardened with resolve. It was Nechayev.

“Commander,” she said in a neutral tone.

“Admiral, I need to discuss an important matter with you,” Sisko began without preamble.

“Yes, Admiral Furrst has been discussing the very same matter,” Nechayev remarked snarkily.

“Then you know what I want?” Sisko asked.

“Yes, you want Calvin Hudson’s whereabouts,” Nechayev supplied. “I can tell you that your request is denied. But you rather expected that didn’t you? So who will you appeal to now? The C-in-C herself?”

“Admiral, I received my orders from Admiral Bill Ross of Starbase 375,” Sisko pointed out.

“And may I remind you that I outrank Admiral Ross?” Nechayev scoffed. “You have to give me a reason to approve this request. A well-rationalized argument, not an appeal simply because he is your friend.”

“If I can bring Hudson in, I guarantee that we can get him to give up the Maquis’ secrets,” Sisko promised.

“But the Maquis operate on a cell by cell basis,” Nechayev retorted. “Surely Major Kira has explained the concept to you.”

“She has. But unlike the Bajoran Resistance, the Maquis do have central command figures privy to all of their secrets,” Sisko reminded the admiral. “Hudson is one of the people just as Svetlana Koraponova is another.”

“Are you also offering to bring in Koraponova?” Nechayev asked.

Sisko shook his head. “No. She’s undoubtedly gone to ground by now.”

“And how would you convince Hudson to betray his comrades?” Nechayev wondered.

“Simple. We offer him a choice between us or the Cardassians,” Sisko explained.

Nechayev studied him. “And if he chooses the Cardassians over us?”

“I’ve already made that choice. I offered him a chance to rejoin Starfleet or to choose the Maquis. I let him ruin his life that day. I would do the same again. Make no mistake, Admiral, I’m offering him a choice between life in the stockade or being handed over to Cardassian torturers. I think that any rational man would choose prison,” Sisko said sadly.

“Ah, but you’re assuming he’s still rational,” Nechayev commented. She pondered Sisko’s offer. Weighing her options, she began, “I can tell you Commander, that Starfleet arranged for the capture of Calvin Hudson by Cardassian forces.”

Sisko was visibly shaken as she continued. “I haven’t run down who is responsible, but I believe that any person deserves a better fate than what Hudson will receive at the hands of the Cardassians. I can also tell you he’s on Solosos. I’ll send you what I have and you can decide on whether or not you will proceed.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Sisko said gratefully.

A thin smile blossomed on her features. “Success makes the greatest of thanks, Commander.”

Sisko noted that she hadn’t cut the transmission as she normally would have and asked, “Yes?”

“I do have a contingency plan,” Nechayev informed him. “Even if you choose not to go, it will be in play. Do you understand?”

“Understood,” Sisko confirmed.

“Good, because Hudson will be brought in or silenced one way or the other,” Nechayev warned him.

The transmission was cut at that point, leaving Sisko pondering the implications of that last statement. Sisko looked to Dax as he loaded the navigation data into her board. She lifted the runabout off of Ronara Prime and heads for Solosos, announcing that they would arrive in a few hours.

Macen and Danan met Tulley and Alea at the Old Biddy. They sat at the same table where the information gatherers had met Sisko and Dax. The three other Maquis sat at the adjacent table just as O’Brien and Bashir had done.

Upon introduction, Macen took Alea’s hand and lightly kissed it. Alea blushed and turned to Danan, “Does he always do that?”

“Only with me,” Danan wryly admitted.

“I’m sorry, but your reputation precedes you,” Macen gushed.

Alea suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Macen gave her an almost imperceptible nod and she relaxed a little bit. Macen would keep the young Idanian’s secret but it came at a price. She had to sell his data to Ro.

He’d contacted her after he’d left Starfleet and was gathering his crew. Alea was part of the Maquis as an undercover military advisor and intelligence asset. She’d never intended to be thrust into the limelight. Macen’s offer of assisting Ro made Alea’s cover more plausible.

Alea reviewed Starfleet’s records, the very same records Sisko was perusing while on his way to Solosos. Alea gave Tulley an approving nod. “The information is solid.”

“However, there’s a new wrinkle,” Macen suddenly brought up the potential bad news. “Commander Sisko has also been given this data. Odds are he’ll make a play too.”

Tulley scowled, “We could do a lot with a ship like yours. Why aren’t you picking up a phaser and helping out?”

Macen looked bemused. “First off, the Odyssey is very distinctive. Every Cardassian outpost and sweeper is watching her at every moment. Second, I haven’t been invited yet.”

“I’ll pass that along,” Tulley said menacingly.

“You do that,” Macen nonchalantly replied.

Back at the Maquis compound, Alea made her report and Ro began devising a plan. Pretty soon, she had a rough sketch but she needed hard intel from a former resident. Kalinda pointed out that Thool was originally from Solosos.

The Bolian engineer reported in. Ro began asking questions about the target area. Thool asked for the map and filled in the blanks. The target was a farm with a house and a bunkhouse for the hands. It turned out Thool started his working life as a mechanic on a similar farm.

“The farmhouse will likely be occupied by the new occupants who have taken over the farm. The bunkhouse would be ideal to hold prisoners in. It was meant to house sixty people in a communal living space. It would also have restrooms and a kitchen,” Thool explained.

Ro studied the orbital view. “Well, this particular bunkhouse is vulnerable to an approach from the west. There’s a grove of trees that grow right up to the structure.”

“I also have the names of a few contacts,” Thool promised. “We’ll be able to get ground transports and we’ll need them. This farm is sixty kilometers from the closest town.”

“Why would we need to go to ground when we can simply beam down?” Ro wondered.

Thool looked a little embarrassed. “The Indomitable is a fine ship, but she needs quite a few hands just to keep her in orbit, much less in flight. You’re going to need those hands for the fighting. That means you’ll have to land the Indie.”

“The Indie, huh?” Ro grinned. She couldn’t think of a better nickname for her brand new command. TheIndomitable was a Ju’day-class scout, one of a few that had entered Maquis service. Chakotay had received the first. Several more were in the pipeline for other cells.

Chakotay’s Zola had been the first ship that Eric McMasters had refitted for the Maquis. McMasters’ next project had been the Indomitable. Ro hadn’t given the ship a good field test yet and wondered if now would be that time.

Ro also had to inwardly grin at referring to the Indie as a “new” ship. Her hull was fifty years old and the engine components for the class were no longer manufactured, so McMasters had to rebuild the engine and call it good. The Zola had proven herself in combat a few times now. Hopefully Ro could coax the same kind of performance out of her ship.

“Point taken,” Ro conceded. She revised her ops plan and presented it to Kalinda and Tulley. They both approved, so she gathered her potential crew and laid it out for them. They all understood the basics and bought into the plan. For one brief moment, Ro missed Starfleet. The simple “yes, ma’am” that was a way of daily life in Starfleet would make prosecuting a war that much easier.

She sighed. I knew what I was getting into when I defected. Or at least I thought I did.

Acknowledgement

Many thanks to Bernd Schneider of Ex-Astris-Scientia.org for designing the Blackbird-class scout vessel mentioned in this story.

Feedback

Please send feedback and other correspondence regarding this story to Brin_Macen at yahoo dot com.

"Betrayal" Chapter Five / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

As the Rio Grande flew across celestial boundaries, Dax took a moment to describe to anyone listening the differences between Umoth and its closest inhabited neighbor. “Ronara isn’t like Umoth. Where Umoth is arid and dusty; Ronara Prime is lush and forested.”

She paused to let that comparison sink in before continuing, “Ronara is covered by sixty-four percent surface water. It has one ‘super continent’ which has vast mountain ranges which produce rich, verdant valleys between them. A few of those valleys make up the settled areas of the colony. The capital, Enara, rests in the largest valley and houses more than seventy percent of the population.”

“What’s the local industry?” O’Brien asked.

Dax smiled. “Nice of you to ask, Chief. Ronara has two major industries. One is agriculture. Most of the planet’s valleys are cultivated. Caretakers oversee them, but the bulk of the labor force commutes from the cities to fields.”

“They must not rely upon ground transports then,” O’Brien opined.

Dax’s smile grew. “You’re right. The planet boasts the highest concentration of air travel of any Zone colony. They need the infrastructure to navigate the rough terrain.

“They must be quite industrialized then,” Bashir suddenly spoke. “I mean, air transports require a lot of manufacturing and maintenance.”

“He’s right, Lieutenant,” O’Brien supported. “We’re not talking a simple cottage industry here.”

Dax was positively delighted. “Which makes part of Ronara’s manufacturing capacity. They not only specialize in the construction of antigrav vehicles, but the bulk of their output is in retrofitting spacecraft.”

“And I just bet the Maquis are all over the retrofitting shops,” O’Brien commented.

“That’s the theory, Chief,” Sisko confirmed. “Starfleet Security and Starfleet Intelligence are working on that angle.”

“Can I ask what the name of any the shops are?” O’Brien wondered.

Sisko reviewed a padd. “I believe the most suspect shop is McMasters Retrofit. Owned by…”

“Eric McMasters!” O’Brien suddenly blurted.

Sisko was momentarily startled and then smiled. “You know him?”

O’Brien shook his head. “Only by reputation. McMasters designs and builds custom racing shuttles and refits runabouts and other small craft into sporting models.”

“No wonder the Maquis have an active interest in him,” Sisko realized.

“Starfleet’s right to be worried. McMasters could easily refit and weaponize Peregrine-class couriers and other similar ships like what we saw when we last faced Hudson,” O’Brien ventured.

“But why would he?” Sisko wondered.

“Sir, McMasters was born and raised in these parts and now he works here. I’d say he has just as much as a right to be disgruntled as anyone else,” O’Brien shared.

“Chief, the Demilitarized Zone was established to end the violence and help these people,” Sisko stated.

“Yeah, but that’s an outsider’s perspective. I think the Major was right. She should be here. She could tell you how these people fought for almost two decades only to have their hopes and dreams tossed back in their faces. I guess if it were me I’d be disgruntled too,” O’Brien admitted.

“What are you telling me, Chief?” Sisko’s voice got very low and O’Brien knew he was treading a fine line here.

“Sir, you can’t have served in the Border Wars, particularly the front lines, and not empathize with the colonists,” O’Brien confessed.

“Empathize but not sympathize?” Sisko saw the distinction the Irishman was making.

O’Brien shook his head. “No sir. The Federation did what they could. They couldn’t satisfy everyone, so they made the best compromise that they could. But that compromise hasn’t sat well with some. Still, it’s no excuse killing and terrorism. People from Ireland know that better than anyone.”

A light flashed in Sisko’s brain. “Lt. Hathaway mentioned something about an ‘Irish Republican Army’ movement that was like the Maquis. Care to elaborate?”

O’Brien grew sad as he explained Ireland’s divided twentieth century history. When he finished describing the history of the IRA, he expanded into general history. “Of course, Ireland was united under the flag of the Republic nearly a hundred years later, after the Third World War. By then, people wanted to reach out to one another because they were sick of the fighting.”

O’Brien struggled to explain what was on his mind. “The Irish know what it’s like to be twisted up by hate and we know it’s not worth it. The Maquis are in that boat now. Hopefully it won’t take them as long to figure out it isn’t worth it.”

“Nice sentiments, Chief,” Bashir piped up.

Dax smirked as she shook her head. Leave it to Julian.

“Yes, they are,” Sisko said drolly. He turned back to the OPS station and smiled. “It seems we’re almost there.”

“We’ll be in the system in less than five minutes,” Dax said happily. “But who knows how long it’ll take traffic control to let us set down.”

“It shouldn’t take that long,” Sisko offered. “After all, it’s just one out of the way colony.”

Dax gave him a longsuffering glance.

In the end, their transit of the solar system to Ronara Prime took an hour. Ronara was the fourth planet in the system — not quite out of the habitable zone but drifting towards it edge. Starfleet’s data on the world said it was cooler than most Class-M worlds. Even Bajor was warmer and Sisko found that world cooler than Earth.

There was an unexpected amount of traffic throughout the system and in orbit above the planet. Dax commented on this and Sisko noted it as well.

“It makes it easier for the Maquis to slip in and out this way,” he deduced.

They landed at Enara’s main spaceport. There were three, actually. Each of the auxiliary fields served the refit shops and engineers moved ships from the fields to their individual shops and back out again when the work was finished.

Downloading a map from the planet’s InfoNet database, the Starfleet crew set out. The Old Biddy wasn’t far from the spaceport, but it was near to the other side of it. Dax quipped that they’d see who would pass their Starfleet yearly medical exam tonight. Bashir thought so highly of the idea he went back inside theRio Grande to get his medical kit.

The local night was very cool. Sisko was actually pleased with the literal hike across the port. Dax was thrilled by the weather since her native Trillius Prime was even slightly cooler than Ronara. O’Brien mentioned that it was a lot like home. Bashir, though, was quite unhappy. Born in raised in Sudan on Earth, he’d learned to tolerate other climes, but it didn’t mean he favored them.

Bashir was quick to point out the old carved wooden sign above the door of the Old Biddy. They entered in to find a quaint public house. O’Brien was the first to mention the décor.

“It’s like the pubs back home,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Everyone in the establishment suddenly went silent. Sisko observed that it seemed more to do with their uniforms than anything else.

“Perhaps we should get a drink,” he suggested.

“Thank God,” O’Brien sighed.

They approached the bar and the owner simply stared at them. After sixty seconds of silent scrutiny Sisko finally asked, “Could we get some drinks?”

“What’ll you be having?” the bartender asked.

O’Brien spoke first. “A Bushmills. Make it a double.”

O’Brien noted the baleful look Sisko was giving him and rationalized, “It’s been a helluva day.”

Sisko had to agree but wished O’Brien had ordered synthale so he could shrug aside the inebriating effects of the alcohol if need be. Judging from the hostility in the room, they might actually have to fight their way out.

“And what’ll you lot be having?” the bartender asked warily.

“What do have in the way of synthale?” Sisko inquired.

The host shrugged. “Just about everything.”

“Try a Frenner’s,” a new voice said. They all looked to the left and saw a man dressed in civilian clothes standing at the counter. He grinned, “It’s a local brew. Helping the local economy will buy a little goodwill. Not much, but it’ll be a start.”

The barkeep served up their drinks and asked for payment in Cardassian currency. Sisko was stunned. “I thought this was a Federation colony?”

“It was,” the barkeep growled, “Now it ain’t. No freebies for Starfleet types that ain’t smart enough to carry some coin either. Pay up or take off.”

The stranger handed the barkeep some coins and told the Starfleet officers, “Don’t worry. This one is on me.”

“It seems we’re in your debt again, Mr…?” Sisko asked.

The man smiled, “Macen. Brin Macen. But you must have suspected that by now. I heard you were looking for me.”

Sisko studied Macen. Most Starfleet Intelligence officers that he’d encountered, even former ones, exuded an air of caution. Macen didn’t. He seemed surprisingly open and relaxed. Just like Martus Mazur had. Sisko immediately decided he didn’t like Macen.

Macen suddenly smirked, “No fair comparing me Martus. He’s a very misguided individual.”

Sisko suddenly wondered if Macen had telepathic abilities. No reports regarding El-Aurians indicated the species possessed such abilities. But then again, they were a highly enigmatic race.

“What makes you say that?” Sisko guardedly inquired.

Macen looked amused. “Everything about you is screaming it, Commander.”

O’Brien tugged at Sisko’s sleeve and pulled him aside. In hashed tones the Chief conferred with his commanding officer, “Sir, the lead bartender in Ten Forward aboard the Enterprise was an El-Aurian.”

“Guinan?” Sisko asked. Seeing O’Brien’s momentary confusion, Sisko shared with him, “I travelled to DS9aboard the Enterprise, remember? I spent some time in Ten Forward.”

O’Brien nodded. “Guinan did things like that as well.”

“Like what, exactly?” Sisko pinned him down.

“Huge intuitive leaps,” O’Brien answered. “She’d figure everything there was to know about you upon first meeting you. Sometimes it was stuff you didn’t know about yourself.”

“I see.” Sisko and O’Brien rejoined the others.

“The Chief reminding you about Guinan?” Macen inquired.

“I take it you know her?” Sisko bristled. The situation was spiraling out of his control and he had no idea where this conversation was headed.

“Of course I know her,” Macen revealed. “It was Guinan’s idea for our group to head to Earth. She said we could blend in there.”

Sisko looked to O’Brien, who nodded. “We found out that Guinan had visited Earth in the 1890s. It could’ve been her idea for the El-Aurians to come here. She seems to like humans.”

“This is all well and good, but it doesn’t answer the question you really have,” Macen ventured.

Sisko felt the metaphorical rug slipping again as he asked, “How did you know I wanted to find you?”

“Open secrets, remember?” Macen smirked again.

Sisko remembered Captain Haewoo using that same expression. He’d certainly file a report questioning Haewoo’s loyalties. Macen shook his head in disappointment.

“You really should leave the good captain alone. He did you a favor,” Macen suggested.

“How so?” Sisko wanted to know.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down for this?” Macen asked. “My associate has saved a few tables in the corner. You could all join us.”

Sisko looked to Dax. She nodded. O’Brien agreed, as did Bashir. Sisko considered their input.

Macen looked exasperated for the first time. “Look, we’re the only friendly faces in here. It’s us or the cold outside.”

Sisko relented and Macen guided Sisko’s crew to the tables he and Danan had saved.

Dax saw Danan and cried, “Lees!”

They each ran to the other and embraced. They seemed to exchange hundreds of words in a few seconds time. Sisko and the other were totally surprised. Macen was decidedly amused.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” he quipped.

Dax and Danan were chatting away when Sisko cleared his throat.

“Dax?” Sisko sought to remind her they were here on business.

“Lees, we need to talk with these nice people.” Macen was a little more insistent with Danan.

“What?” the Trills said in stereo. They looked back at each other and laughed.

“We have business to finish, Lieutenant,” Sisko insisted.

“Later,” Dax said happily to Danan. They each took a seat at the table. Sisko was somewhat irked to discover they sat beside each other. Macen merely smiled, shrugged and then took a seat at Danan’s other side. Sisko filled out the complement at that table. Bashir and O’Brien took the nearby table. They could overhear but they were relegated to the sidelines.

O’Brien began sampling his whiskey as Bashir stirred. “Leave them be, Julian. They have some talking to do.”

“But who is that strange Trill woman?” Bashir fretted.

“Dax will share if she feels we need to know,” O’Brien reassured him.

“So, you want to know where Cal Hudson is?” Macen mused.

“First I want to know more about you,” Sisko demanded.

Macen wasn’t offended. “Tell me what you already know.”

“You’re a former Commander in Starfleet Intelligence. You served for seventy years and then resigned to become an information broker.” Sisko’s disdain at the last was clearly evident.

“And you look much better with a mustache and goatee rather than a full beard,” Dax opined. She gave Sisko a What? look as he shot her an annoyed glance.

“Doesn’t he though?” Danan threw out there. “It took a few hundred years off.”

That only served to remind Sisko that Macen was over four hundred years old, despite looking like he was in his thirties. Turning to Danan, he continued, “And you’re formerly Lt. Commander Lisea Danan. Your last assignment was as the Starfleet liaison to the Amagosa Observatory. You suddenly resigned your commission without warning and departed the Observatory with Commander Macen.”

“Please, it’s Captain now,” Macen quipped.

Sisko wasn’t amused. “Neither of you gave any indications of leaving Starfleet before your sudden resignations. On your way out of Starfleet, you managed to obtain the recently decommissioned Starfleet scout, the USS Tiberius, and next you have a crew and are operating in the DMZ.”

“It’s the SS Odyssey now and I detect an accusation,” Macen mused.

Sisko came out and asked the question lingering in his mind. “Are you working for the Maquis?”

Macen looked taken aback. “Commander, I work for everyone.”

“Even the Cardassians?” Sisko baldly demanded to know.

“If they can meet my price,” Macen replied smoothly.

“That’s odd considering what the Cardassians did to you,” Sisko opined.

Both Dax and Danan were suddenly very alert. Macen shrugged. “It was war.”

“But how did you manage to escape your interrogators?” Sisko wondered.

Macen smirked. “I do believe that is classified information. It’s ‘need to know.’”

“I am a deep space commander and I have a need to know,” Sisko asserted.

“No, you don’t,” Macen dryly retorted. “I’ll tell you what though, I’ll warn you off of trying rescue Hudson. He’d beyond your reach.”

“How do you know that?” Sisko inquired.

Macen grinned. “Because I know what Starfleet knows.”

“I was told they didn’t know anything,” Sisko admitted.

“You just haven’t asked the right person,” Macen suggested. He rose to leave and Danan said her goodbyes to Dax. As they stepped away from the tables, Sisko asked them one last question.

“How will I find you if I need to talk to you again?” he wondered.

“Try coming back here. I’ll hear about it. After all, the entire planet is watching you right now. Civilians, the Maquis, the Cardassians, and even Starfleet,” Macen explained and then left.

Sisko motioned for Bashir and O’Brien to join him and Dax. He asked for opinions. Dax was quick with a comment.

“It seems that wheels have been set inside of wheels. Curzon dealt with a lot of machinations like this, enough so that I know we aren’t being told the full story by anyone,” she said.

“I agree with you,” Sisko confessed. “I think we need to get back to the Rio Grande and there I can crawl my way through Starfleet Command and find out just what the hell is going on.”

They finished their drinks and headed for the spaceport. Unbeknownst to them, they were followed by several different groups. They returned to the confines of their runabout and most of the groups set up various camps to observe the Starfleet team. One pair moved away.

Macen and Danan were stopped by Aric Tulley and three Maquis as they began to depart. Tulley wore a thin smile. “Going somewhere?”

“Apparently wherever you’re taking us,” Macen retorted.

The Maquis separated Macen from Danan. He was taken to an air car and had a hood thrown over his head. He tried to count off how many minutes they’d been in the air before they landed. He was then escorted, hood on, through the Maquis base. Finally, he was deposited in a chair and the hood was yanked off. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. He was only marginally surprised to discover sitting opposite him, behind a desk, was Ro Laren.

Acknowledgement

Many thanks to Bernd Schneider of Ex-Astris-Scientia.org for designing the Blackbird-class scout vessel mentioned in this story.

Feedback

Please send feedback and other correspondence regarding this story to Brin_Macen at yahoo dot com.

"Betrayal" Chapter Four / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

While Hathaway used Dax’s data rod to run down the identification of the as-of-yet unnamed corpse, they were all hoping that she was registered in the Starfleet Intelligence database. Sisko was confident that she was. Bernstein had to ask why.

Sisko’s mood grew a little less grave. “As you know, Cardassian women are generally relegated to scientific pursuits and support roles. A notable few have risen through the ranks in the Militia…or other services.” He let the implication hang as he continued. “But women in a military style unit are enough of a rarity to register as a blip on the radar.”

“Uh…Commander?” Hathaway suddenly called out. “We may have a problem.”

Sisko moved over to the terminal granted to Starfleet by the constabulary. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

Sisko noted Dax’s look of frustration and he repeated the question. His science officer answered, “We’ve hit a roadblock from Starfleet Intelligence. The information we want requires a level seven clearance.”

Sisko was impressed. He had a level seven clearance — a fact that Dax was privy to. But he had only acquired that level of clearance upon accepting command of Deep Space Nine. As a regional commander, he required it. He also knew that theoretically there were only ten levels in total, but he had heard rumors of the “ultraviolet” levels within Starfleet Command itself.

“Excuse me, Lt. Hathaway,” Sisko said as he took her place at the station. Level seven required the standard voiceprint but it also needed a retina scan. He gave the computer what it required and a file came up on the screen.

A hazy image of the Cardassian in life appeared. It was a scene of utter carnage and she seemed to be in the midst of it. Details of the incident were included as well as her name.

“Illya Galan,” Sisko mused. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

Dax was skimming the file. “It says that Galan was a suspected operative for the Obsidian Order. That has never been confirmed, just as her ouster was never verified.”

“They threw her out?” Sisko was surprised. “I thought the Obsidian Order lived by the motto, ‘once in, never out.’”

“You’re thinking of the Maquis,” Bernstein chuckled.

“Or the IRA,” Hathaway blurted. Seeing every eye turned towards her, she grew embarrassed. “You know? The Irish Republican Army from twentieth century Earth.”

“I vaguely remember them from my course work when I studied for this job,” Bernstein suddenly recalled. “The Maquis share a lot with them.”

“Didn’t they eventually buy into the political peace process?” Hathaway asked. “Something about a power sharing arrangement in their territory?”

“At least most of them did,” Bernstein corrected. “Splinter factions kept the sectarian violence alive for decades afterwards. Fortunately, they only had a few followers, not much funding, and didn’t rack up a heavy body count.”

Sisko glared at her and she planted her fists on her hips. “What? I’m trying to look at the upside here. If the Maquis really are similar then the similarities may hold out as time goes by.”

“The Maquis aren’t interested in peace. They’re only out for revenge,” Sisko declared.

Bernstein’s eyes went flinty. “Some, maybe. But the majority want their homes to stay their homes and not be forced out of them.”

“If they truly wanted that, then they would trust in the system,” Sisko argued.

“Why?” Bernstein demanded to know. “The system screwed them.”

“Are you a sympathizer?” Sisko suddenly asked.

“Excuse me?” Bernstein was affronted.

“You heard me, Chief Constable.” Sisko emphasized her title in a derogatory way.

“Maybe,” Bernstein allowed, “Or maybe I’m just tired of covering up murders committed by the Cardassiansettlers in our city.”

“What are you saying?” Sisko’s anger was totally derailed.

“Oh, they’re not really murders. They’re accidents,” Bernstein sneered. “But the Cardassians are really good at accidents and they happen every day. Hell, they’re practically an hourly event now.”

“Have you told the Federation’s DMZ representative?” Sisko wondered.

“What do you think?” Bernstein asked sarcastically.

“How did they respond?” Sisko wanted to know.

“They sent you,” Bernstein spat. She collected herself and said, “Gul Evek said the problem is that the Maquis exist. As long as they’re free, the Cardassian settlers will kill at the slightest provocation in ‘self defense.’ So, the Federation representative contacts Starfleet and you magically show up. Don’t you find it a little coincidental that Cal Hudson was abducted before you arrived?”

“Yes,” Sisko admitted.

“And don’t you find it the slightest bit odd that occurs on the same day you shared Hudson’s location with Gul Evek?” Bernstein had to wonder.

“Yes,” Sisko said again.

“Then just don’t sit there!” Bernstein urged, “Do something about it!”

“I intend to question Gul Evek about his part in these events,” Sisko announced.

Bernstein threw her hands up in the air and stormed out the room. As she left she shouted back, “Fat lot of good that’s going to do!”

Sisko turned to look at Dax. She was giving him a sympathetic smile but there were doubts in her eyes. Sisko could empathize because he shared those doubts. He suddenly realized Hathaway was still standing behind him, playing like a hole in space. He turned to her.

“Do you have something to add?” He inquired a little more sharply than intended.

“No sir!” she said crisply. She hesitated a moment, then plunged ahead. “Actually, I do. Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“If I didn’t want your opinion, I wouldn’t have asked for it.” Sisko tried to be encouraging.

“I think the Commander is being taken for a fool, sir,” Hathaway suddenly threw out. She waited for an eruption but instead Sisko smiled.

“And why is that, Lieutenant?” He asked.

“I’ve seen what the Cardassians do first hand. There’s never been a case of ‘self defense.’ All the forensic pointed to the Cardies being the aggressors if not downright killers, sir,” she shared.

“I see.” He pondered this. “You are aware that Starfleet no longer tolerates the term Cardies, are you not?”

“A slip of the lip,” she riposted. “It will happen again.”

Sisko appreciated the young woman’s sudden audaciousness. She was a relatively junior officer, yet she was also senior on a posting with little to no support behind it and she was a witness to events that would make the most experienced men or women go mad from frustration. He’d “enjoyed” similar circumstance during the conflict with the Tzenkethi. Fortunately for him, his circumstances had only lasted a few weeks. Hathaway was here until her duty rotation was up.

“Tell me, Lieutenant, how long have you been stationed here?” Sisko gently inquired.

“Since the Zone was established.” Hathaway confirmed his suspicions. “I guess that would make it nearly twenty-four months.”

Sisko inwardly winced. A standard rotation was eighteen months. Not only had Hathaway been given a dismal assignment, they’d buried her in it.

“I know what you’re thinking, Commander.” Hathaway wore a rueful expression. “I was kind of thinking that Command had forgotten about me as well. The plain truth is that they can’t find anybody to replace me. Dezuron is in the same boat.” Her expression turned a little more aggravated. “It’s not fair what they’re doing to Ilk though. He had a transfer lined up to serve aboard your station. Those orders were rescinded because we’re serving in such a heap of natural fertilizer that no one will take our place. I can cope, but Ilk’s just out of the Academy and has enthusiasm to burn.”

Sisko wondered what had happened to Hathaway’s enthusiasm, although he was sure he already knew the answer. Too many scenes like the one at the housing quad had eroded her idealism.

“I’m going to get answers. I promise,” he assured Hathaway.

She gave him a dubious look. “Good luck with that then.”

Dax ushered Hathaway to the other side of the room where O’Brien had silently witnessed these events. Dax noted that O’Brien had a rather dour mien.

“Problem, Chief?” She asked.

“The Commander’s wasting his time. Gul Evek is gonna deny everything and blame it on us,” O’Brien stated.

Dax felt the same way, but she had to play it out the way Starfleet wanted. “Maybe, Chief. But we have to try. No one wants another war.”

O’Brien grimaced. “And Evek is enough of a prig he’d start one just for the helluva it.”

Dax smiled. She may not have put it quite so bluntly, but O’Brien had captured the gist of it. Chuckling, she agreed with him. “Exactly.”

Sisko’s conversation didn’t even begin well. Evek demanded to know why Starfleet had allowed a Cardassian citizen to be killed. “Weren’t you supposed to be there?”

Sisko grated. He found Evek to be officious at the best of times, and this wasn’t one of those. “My officers and I arrived precisely on schedule. However, elements within the Cardassian settlers moved before we arrived and attacked the residents of that housing bloc.”

“That’s not what I heard. I was told that the poor woman was duped into joining the Federation settlers that resided there and they killed her in cold blood,” Evek blustered.

“And how do you account for the deaths of the residents?” Sisko wanted to know.

“She defended herself,” Evek said as though it were incontrovertible fact.

“She killed nearly fifty people before they managed to overwhelm her and kill her?” Sisko was incredulous.

“On Cardassia, we teach our women how to defend themselves,” Evek huffed.

“They’re obviously trained very well, especially when they are agents of the Obsidian Order,” Sisko baited Evek to see how he’d respond.

“I wouldn’t know. The Central Command and the Obsidian Order each run their separate affairs and departments,” Evek countered.

“So, you’re not denying that this Illya Galan was an Obsidian Order agent?” Sisko tightened his grip on the conversation.

“Why would I deny it?” Evek acted as though he were affronted. “I have no idea if this woman really is who you claim she is or if she was an agent of the Obsidian Order.”

“So you’re saying that she was a former agent of the Order?” Sisko asked.

“Of course she is a former agent! She’s dead. Everything about her life is in the past tense. And her blood is on your hands!” Evek grated.

“Gul Evek, is the Central Command running weapons into the Demilitarized Zone and training paramilitaries in how to use them?” Finally, Sisko got to the question he’d been dying to ask.

“No more than Starfleet is supplying the Maquis,” Evek snapped. Evek saw that he had achieved a verbal superiority of sorts. “I’ve rendered what assistance that I could, Commander. But your inaction cost the life of one of our citizens. We will have justice. One way or another.”

“Wait! What do you…?” Sisko abruptly stopped as Evek cut the transmission.

The others across the room began talking softly amongst themselves. Sisko could tell his expression had completely given him away and that things had proceeded as they’d expected. Not wanting to give up, Sisko reached out to his last potential ally among the Central Command.

It took several moments for Gul Dukat to respond, but when he did he looked most pleased. “Why Commander, I haven’t been expecting a message from you. How are things on Terok Nor?”

Sisko didn’t respond. He couldn’t imagine Dukat being so out of the loop that he wasn’t aware of Sisko’s present location. But then again, Dukat had been caught out in the cold regarding the Central Command’s arming the Cardassian settlers in the DMZ in the first place.

Dukat suddenly had a crafty look in his eye. “But you’re not aboard Terok Nor. Rather, you are in the Demilitarized Zone and things have not gone your way.”

“There have been murders, Dukat, including the death of a Cardassian woman,” Sisko shared.

Dukat nodded gravely, yet Sisko has the feeling he was being toyed with. “Indeed. Poor Illya Galan. She will not be missed.”

“Wait!” Sisko almost yelped, “You know who Illya Galan is?”

“Of course,” Dukat said silkily. “Galan was a suspected member of the Obsidian Order. Of course, it is only a theory. If it is true then Galan was an assassin, quite an accomplished one from all reports, but she enjoyed her work a little too much. The Obsidian Order prefers skullduggery to bloodbaths. Massacres tend to get noticed.”

You should know, Sisko thought. He also noted that Dukat wasn’t condemning Galan’s actions on moral grounds, but rather practicality when it came to covert operations.

“So how did Galan end up in the DMZ?” Sisko inquired.

Dukat spread his hands in an expansive gesture. “Perhaps she wanted a new life? Who knows? What matters is she’s dead and the Cardassian people will want an answer for that death.”

“Dukat, she was part of an operation to kidnap Cal Hudson,” Sisko divulged.

“Hudson? The Maquis leader?” Dukat sounded surprised but Sisko could see in his eyes that this was old news to him. “Weren’t you on your way to arrest him?”

Sisko nodded and Dukat kept the game in play. “And someone beat you to him?” He shook his head sorrowfully. “Really, Commander, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Dukat, I need to find Hudson,” Sisko insisted.

Anger appeared in Dukat’s eyes. “You had your chance with him, Commander. You gave it, and him, up in a moment of sentimentality. I warned you then that you were being a fool. This is the price you must pay for that foolishness.”

Dukat looked at him without remorse. “I suggest you let things take their natural course.”

“But the Cardassian paramilitaries will hand Hudson over to Evek,” Sisko tried again.

“No, they won’t. The Central Command has no affiliation with the paramilitaries. You saw to that,” Dukat countered. “These are private citizens who have taken the law into their own hands. I suggest that if you want a solution to the problem, you convince your government to allow my government to move in and deal with the perpetrators.”

“You’re suggesting we allow military units into the Zone?” Sisko wasn’t certain he’d heard him correctly.

“Temporarily, of course,” Dukat assured him.

Sisko’s temper started to flare. “No deal.”

Dukat spread his hands again. “Then there’s nothing that I can do. Good day, Commander. Call me if you change your mind.”

The screen shifted to a UFP symbol. Sisko called Hathaway over. “What are Starfleet’s assets in the DMZ?”

“You’d know that better than I would,” she admitted.

Sisko asked who Hathaway’s superior officer was and she referred him to Starbase 211. Captain Haewoo took the call in short order. He seemed rather interested in Sisko.

“I’ve heard of you and your command,” Haewoo admitted. “Aren’t you a tad junior to command a deep space station?”

“I leave those decisions to Starfleet Command,” Sisko riposted.

Haewoo smirked. “Good answer. Especially when it concerns the DMZ. Now, how can I help you?”

“I need a list of your undercover Starfleet assets in the local area,” Sisko explained.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Haewoo replied. “Those officer’s lives are at stake.”

“But I need intelligence on a developing situation,” Sisko divulged.

“You mean Calvin Hudson’s capture?” Haewoo asked. Seeing Sisko’s surprise, he chuckled, “Everyoneknows of your mission, Commander. It’s the biggest open secret in the DMZ.”

“I still need to acquire that intelligence,” Sisko insisted.

Haewoo sighed, “I’ll tell you what, there is a new player on Ronara Prime. Contact him and see what you can find out.”

“Is he Starfleet?” Sisko didn’t like the sound of this already.

“Word is he was. He runs a scoutship now. Both he and his first officer were Starfleet. The rumor is they’ve gone into business for themselves.”

“What’s their business?” Sisko hated to ask.

“Information,” Haewoo revealed, “which you need and they might have.”

“A mercenary?” Sisko didn’t relish that thought.

Haewoo weighed his answer. “More of an information broker.”

“Does this ‘broker’ have a name?” Sisko grated at being reduced to this level.

“Brin Macen,” Haewoo supplied. “And watch out, he’s an El-Aurian.”

Sisko inwardly groaned. Sisko had only encountered one El-Aurian, and was a con artist who made life on the station difficult for a time. He was now in jail and the situation had been stabilized, much to Quark’s relief. Having a rival bar and casino owner aboard DS9 had cut into his profits.

“So noted,” Sisko replied. “Where should I look?”

“Ronara Prime only has one spaceport. A favorite tavern for the assorted crews that gather there is the Old Biddy. Go there,” Haewoo suggested.

“How will I find this ‘Macen’?” Sisko wondered.

“Trust me, Commander. He’ll find you. Open secret and all that,” Haewoo chuckled again and signed off.

Sisko rose from the station. “It seems we’re going to Ronara Prime.”

“We’ll need to collect Julian,” Dax reminded him.

A flood of voices could be heard as several constables returned from their patrols. Two figures stood out as they approached. One was Bashir. The doctor looked tired and frustrated. His crewmates assumed it was because he’d lost too many patients for his taste.

Beside him was a young woman roughly Hathaway’s age. She saw Hathaway and positively glowed. She moved into Hathaway’s body space.

“Hey sexy. Miss me?” she asked.

Hathaway stroked the other woman’s cheek where a smear of blood was crusted on. The woman smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s not mine.”

Sisko had just enough time to register that the stranger was a medic when the two women kissed. Hathaway turned to Sisko. “Commander, this my wife, Desiree Johnson.”

“A pleasure,” Sisko said with a smile. Hathaway introduced Dax and O’Brien to Johnson as well.

Johnson gave Sisko a warm smile. “Any chance you could swing a transfer for my darling wife? I’d love to dust this mud ball off my feet.”

Sisko’s smile became beaming. He could remember his wife, Jennifer, following him from posting to posting over the years. Eventually Jake had been born and the entire family traveled to new assignments. Of course, Jennifer had died in Sisko’s line of duty. He could only hope the same wouldn’t happen to Johnson.

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do except put another good word in,” Sisko ruefully admitted.

Johnson pouted as she turned to Hathaway, “We’re gonna be stuck here forever.”

Hathaway caressed Johnson’s cheek and gently kissed her again. “We’ll get out, sweetie. Trust me.”

“What have I missed?” Bashir suddenly interjected. The couple grinned wryly at having their moment interrupted. Dax smiled at the awkwardness that was totally in Bashir’s character. O’Brien merely rolled his eyes at his youthful friend’s indiscretion.

Sisko was amused but he was properly somber considering his reply. “You’re just in time, Doctor. We’re leaving.”

“Oh, are we retuning to the station?” Bashir asked hopefully.

Sisko let him down easy. “No, we’re headed for the nearest inhabited world. We have a meeting to keep.”

“Really?” Bashir sounded surprised. “With whom?”

“I have no idea,” Sisko balefully admitted.

Acknowledgement

Many thanks to Bernd Schneider of Ex-Astris-Scientia.org for designing the Blackbird-class scout vessel mentioned in this story.

Feedback

Please send feedback and other correspondence regarding this story to Brin_Macen at yahoo dot com.

"Betrayal" Chapter Three / September 13, 2014 by Charlynn Schmiedt

by Travis Anderson

Ro situated herself in front of her comp/comm. It was a portable version of the desktop mounted units that had proliferated in Starfleet. Starfleet also used the occasional portable model, but they were more frequently employed by civilians. The Maquis had “acquired” several cargo holds’ worth of these units from a sympathetic merchantman who claimed pirates had taken his whole cargo after the Maquis kindly shot up his freighter. The damage was enough to disable the warp drive but not enough to cripple the venerable ship. Both sides had won that day.

The real trick was the encryption protecting the subspace transmission. Hudson and Koraponova had recruited several Starfleet cryptologists. Ro herself was a fair hand with codes, but the specialists made her skills seem rather feeble in comparison. This was good because Starfleet Intelligence monitored the bulk of the DMZ’s transmissions with the Argus Array. Their code breakers worked overtime against their former peers.

Added to the dilemma was the fact the Cardassian Obsidian Order also monitored every transmission in the Zone, not only through their border outposts but also through passing ships that cruised within the DMZ itself. Some humans made jokes that the nondescript Cardassian freighters would claim to merely be “fishing vessels” if boarded. Ro didn’t get the joke.

Ro activated the comp/comm. She keyed in her cipher for the comm unit. The screen first activated to show the red symbol of the Maquis Council. Kalinda had once warned Ro that could prove incriminating if the unit was captured.

Ro had replied with gallows’ humor, “If they’ve get this far, I think they’ve already figured out who we are.”

Numbers flashed across the bottom of the screen as the incoming message was accepted into the memory. The numbers stopped and Ro activated the playback. Sveta Koraponova’s features suddenly appeared. Despite being a fairly striking woman, Ro was jealous of Koraponova’s looks. She’d never admit, it of course, but the pang was there nonetheless.

“Laren, I hope you get this in short order. I’ll be holding on for the next two hours awaiting your reply. The reply cipher is attached to this file. Use it as soon as you can. If it’s already been two hours then we’ve switched to our secondary option and more lives will be lost.” Koraponova was dead serious as she spoke. “Call me.”

Ro checked the time stamp on the message. It had come in while the cell was travelling back to base but she still had a few minutes before the deadline was up. It would be close though.

She triggered the attachment and the comm automatically replied. Ro fidgeted while the signal was being accepted at the other end. Finally the picture shifted and Koraponova gazed back at her.

“Laren! Thank God!” Koraponova practically sagged.

“Sveta, what’s going on? You made it sound like life or death,” Ro forced Koraponova to focus.

“It is life and death,” the Maquis Chief of Operations replied. “The cell on Umoth was hit. Dozens are dead, most of them innocent bystanders whose only crime was to host our cell.”

“Who did it?” Ro said in an eerily cool voice.

“The survivors saw Cardassians.” Koraponova held up a hand to stop Ro from venting her outrage. “They weren’t Militia. They were paramilitaries. Although, their precision indicates that they had military training. One of them was killed. Our contact in the local constabulary is trying to get us an ID.”

“But why Umoth? That cell has been quiet lately,” Ro wondered.

Koraponova looked stricken. “Cal has been based off of Umoth for the last six weeks.”

“Oh, hell,” Ro lamented. “They have him?”

The Architect nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Ro grimaced, “I suppose you want me to go after them?”

“I’d ask Chakotay but Seska was able to get a feeler on the supply route the Cardassians have been using to smuggle arms into the DMZ. He and the crew of the Zola are ‘taking care of the problem,’ or so he said.”

Ro snorted. “If anyone can, it’ll be him and his crew.”

“Which leaves you rescuing Cal Hudson and the command staff of the Umoth cell,” Koraponova said as though it were nothing.

“I’m honored Sveta, you have to know that, but I don’t know if we can pull it off. Santos was just killed and I’ve been made brigade commander,” Ro confessed.

“So you’ll be in a better position to get results,” Koraponova assured her. “Look, I know you’re new, but you’re the most capable asset that I have now and I need you. The Maquis Council needs you. You can do this.”

“All right.” Ro held up a hand to ward off any more encouragement. “I never was one for pep talks. I’ll do my best to bring them back.”

“If you can’t,” Koraponova’s voice turned glacial, “then you have to eliminate them. Cal in particular. Hecannot be taken to Cardassia.”

“You think that’s where he’s headed?” Ro inquired.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Evek wants Cal in order to show how effective he’s being at ‘suppressing’ the Maquis. He’ll hand off Cal to some monster like Gul Madred. They’ll break him. Oh, it’ll take a while, but eventually he’ll crack and the whole movement will suffer for it,” Koraponova explained.

Ro nodded. She’d been in similar circumstances in her youth in the Resistance. She put a phaser to the head of her only friend on the world and fired. She would do it again if the mission called for it.

“I understand,” Ro said with an air of finality. There was an instant understanding between the two women. “Any idea where they took him until they can hand him over to Evek?”

Koraponova looked crestfallen. “I haven’t a clue.”

Ro suddenly broke into a fierce smile. “Well, my intel chief has wanted to impress me. Now’s her chance.”

“Good luck,” Koraponova said. “However this plays out.”

“Thanks, Prophets know we could use a break,” Ro said.

That amused Koraponova, “I thought you were agnostic.”

“Being dead changes one’s outlook,” Ro quipped.

Koraponova gave her a quizzical look. Ro waved it aside, “Never mind. Look, some aliens inside of a wormhole want to play god? Fine. I’ll humor them.”

“Whatever,” Koraponova said dismissively. “Just get it done. I don’t care how or how high the body count is. Get it done.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ro nodded.

The screen went dark. Ro contemplated the task at hand. Was Alea up to her part? They’d find out. Ro had a contact in Starfleet Intelligence. It was time to call in some markers and try not to get arrested in the process.

The Rio Grande arrived at Umoth. Her presence was recorded by the Cardassians’ Outpost 61 and passed along to Gul Evek. He ordered them to continue monitoring the area and keep him apprised of the runabout’s movements.

Dax sat the ship down at Alores’ principal spaceport. Terrestrial capable craft of all shapes and sizes were parked there. Traffic Control alerted the city’s constabulary to the Starfleet team’s arrival. Two peace officers presented themselves.

The Superintendent of the Constabulary was a shifty fellow that owed his appointment more to his ability to coddle Cardassian feelings than actually manage an investigation. The “power sharing” arrangement between the Federation colonists and the new Cardassian minority reflected many instances of this effect across the DMZ. The Superintendent blustered about this was a bad business for all and that heads would roll.

The political official left and a real police officer presented herself. She held out a hand to Sisko. “Hello Commander, I’m Chief Inspector Bernstein. Lt. Hathaway and Ensign Dezuron told me to be expecting you as we began our investigation.”

“I trust that the two officers have proven useful?” Sisko asked.

“Of course they have,” Bernstein let go of a bitter laugh. “Unlike most of my force, they know what the hell they’re doing.”

Sisko blinked and the others remained quiet as Bernstein waved the comment aside, “I’m sorry. Local politics. Let me get all of your names.”

“As you’ve probably been warned, I’m Commander Benjamin Sisko. This is my Science Officer, Jadzia Dax. This is my Chief of Operations, Miles O’Brien. And this fellow is my Chief Medical Officer, Julian Bashir,” Sisko revealed.

“Aren’t you a little young to be a Chief Medical Officer?” Bernstein eyed Bashir skeptically.

“I assure you I’m fully qualified,” Bashir insisted.

“We’ll see,” Bernstein said warily.

“Excuse me, Inspector,” Sisko began to say.

Bernstein unexpectedly laughed, “Just call me, Sarah. Our force isn’t big on formalities.”

“All right, Sarah, you sound as if something has happened,” Sisko surmised.

“You wanted us to watch that suspected Maquis hideout, right?” Bernstein asked.

“Yes,” Sisko replied.

“Well, it’s now a confirmed Maquis base,” Bernstein revealed. “Or at least it was.”

“What do you mean ‘it was’?” Dax inquired.

“Somebody blew the holy hell out of it,” Bernstein explained. “They tore through the housing bloc the Maquis were holed up in and killed anyone who got in their path.”

“How many were injured?” Bashir’s interest was suddenly galvanized.

“We don’t have an exact estimate yet,” Bernstein admitted. “We’re still figuring that out.”

“And the fatalities?” Sisko grimly inquired.

Bernstein sighed, “We’re still figuring that out, too. All we know for certain is that both numbers are high.”

“Can you take me there?” Bashir suddenly blurted. Knowing he may have overstepped his bounds, he turned to Sisko. “Commander, I may be able to help.”

Sisko nodded. “Let’s see what we all can do.”

Bernstein brightened a little bit. “Follow me and I’ll take you to the scene.”

They walked towards a large box-like vehicle. Bernstein flashed them an embarrassed smile as she said, “I’m sorry. Ground transports are the best we can manage.”

“Bajor relies upon ground based transports as well. Most of them were left behind when the Cardassians withdrew,” O’Brien reassured her.

Bernstein stopped when she reached the vehicle and patted its chassis. “Well, this baby is a local product.”

“What’s it called?” Dax asked enthusiastically.

“We call it a ‘van.’” Bernstein said with pride.

“Can I drive?” Dax eagerly asked.

“I…” Bernstein floundered, “Are you qualified?”

“I have previous hosts stretching back three hundred years,” Dax said merrily. “I remember driving vehicles like this.”

Bernstein looked to Sisko for advice. He smiled, “It’s your call.”

Bernstein looked at the imploring look in Dax’s eyes. She also saw something while Dax met her gaze. The Trill looked to be in her late twenties, yet her eyes were ancient. She’d heard stories about Trills and their arcane knowledge, but this was the first time that she’d encountered it.

She decided to take a risk. “Climb in. I’ll ride shotgun.” She rolled back the cargo door. “Gentlemen?”

They climbed aboard. Bernstein keyed the biometric ignition with her thumb and they were off. A Heads Up Display gave Dax direction after she’d queried the van’s computer. Bernstein filled in Sisko and his crew on some of the details that they knew so far.

“Witnesses claim the attackers were Cardassian,” Bernstein shared.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” O’Brien commented.

Sisko gave him a pained look and the Chief managed a “sorry.”

Bernstein grinned, “Normally we’d take that info with a grain of salt. The Cardies are the boogeymen of the planet, so there’s a lot of hyperbole regarding their ‘crimes’. Add to that the fact that these people sheltered the Maquis.”

“Which also makes them a prime target for this kind of attack,” Sisko realized.

“Bingo,” Bernstein said. Seeing the blank stares that she got in return, she added, “It’s a game.” There was still no recognition, so she plunged on. “You collect numbers and when you get the right ones you…oh, never mind.”

“Sounds like Quark trying to explain tongo,” O’Brien chuckled.

“Actually Chief, tongo is very easy to learn once you master the rules of acquisition,” Dax shared.

“Spare me,” O’Brien muttered.

“What was that?” Dax cheerfully asked.

“Nothing,” O’Brien replied.

“I’m sure Keiko believes you every time you say that too,” Dax teased.

O’Brien blushed and Dax laughed. Sisko looked towards Bernstein and asked, “You have more evidence than heresy to point to the Cardassians, don’t you?”

Bernstein reappraised Sisko. “Very good, Commander. We have direct physical evidence linking Cardassians to the crime.”

“And that would be?” Bashir wondered.

“A body,” Bernstein revealed.

Bernstein wouldn’t elaborate except to say they were running the corpse’s identity down through the usual channels. Sisko asked if the Cardassian Militia liaisons were assisting. Bernstein grimaced and admitted the Cardassians were throwing up more roadblocks than assistance.

They arrived at the scene and Bashir plunged ahead where the planet’s emergency medical services staff labored. Bernstein brought them into the courtyard. Bodies littered the area. She explained that they’d had to move the bodies from the entrance in order to get their medical equipment in.

Dax looked horrified. O’Brien’s expression badly gave his opinion away. Sisko had to admit to dismay as well. He’d seen the atrocities of war against the Tzenkethi and the Borg, and this was a massacre that rivaled any of those.

Bernstein called over an inspector from her department. He grabbed Hathaway and brought her along as well. Hathaway smiled out of relief upon seeing fellow Starfleet officers.

“Commander, you are a sight for sore eyes,” she said a little shakily.

“I know the Chief Inspector mentioned your name before, but you’ll have to refresh my memory,” Sisko admitted.

Hathaway nodded. “Lt. Diana Hathaway. Ensign Ilk Dezuron is my counterpart.” She turned to Bernstein. “I’ve organized everyone as best I could. Most of the deputies are taking statements. Dezuron is helping with forensics.”

“So Charlie told me. Found anything conclusive?” Bernstein asked.

Hathaway wore a wry smirk, “You mean besides a Cardassian body?”

Bernstein grimaced. “What are our Cardassian liaisons doing?”

“They’ve established a perimeter around the corpse and won’t let anyone near it.” Hathaway tried to keep the anger out of her voice.

“What?” Bernstein began to share Hathaway’s anger, “Has anyone informed them when need to ID the body and find out who she was?”

“Repetitively,” Hathaway’s frustration was mounting, “But they’ve claimed jurisdiction over the body and are waiting for one of their transports to haul it away.

“They don’t have any jurisdiction. I have jurisdiction. It’s my damn planet!” Bernstein snapped, “Of all the unmitigated gall!”

She stormed off to confront the Cardassians. Sisko turned to Hathaway, “Lieutenant, how would you like to assist us in getting some scans of the body?”

Hathaway genuinely smiled for the first time. “I’d love to.”

Bernstein was in the leading glinn’s face. His subordinate, a garresh, stood by as she grew livid. The glinn nodded in all the right places but his reply left something to be desired.

“The murder victim was a Cardassian national. As such, her remains fall under my jurisdiction. We will determine her identity and process her remains as per her legal arrangements. Afterwards, we will hand over her identity so that you can investigate, apprehend, and prosecute her killers.” The glinn smiled coldly. “Unless you’d like to see Cardassian justice done.”

“Murder? The forensic evidence all points to the fact that she was one of the killers,” Bernstein sputtered.

“And who did she kill?” the glinn wondered.

“Aren’t the bodies littering this courtyard and the corridors evidence enough of murder?” Bernstein asked.

“Nonsense. This was a food riot and these people killed one another.” The glinn pointed at Galan’s corpse. “She was lured in here expressly for the purpose of slaying the lovely woman. Yet another evidence of the racism that pervades your Federation.”

Sisko, Hathaway, and O’Brien joined Bernstein. They’d moved into the Cardassians’ body space so the two junior officers shifted position. The Starfleet representatives repeated their move and the Cardassians moved yet again, but this time they fiercely glared at the Starfleet team as if to challenge them to try it again.

“Do you mind explaining to Commander Sisko what you’ve been suggesting to me?” Bernstein hotly demanded.

“I would love to share. I-” A beep cut the glinn off. Suddenly he and the garresh realized that Galan’s body was now behind the humans. They each darted to a side to find Dax rising to her feet while holding a tricorder.

“Give that to me,” the glinn requested.

“I don’t think so,” Dax replied sweetly.

“You will give that to me now!” the glinn shouted.

Dax looked to Sisko, who nodded. She shrugged and handed over the device. The glinn turned to Bernstein. “I believe we are done here, Chief Inspector.”

Bernstein bristled but Sisko took her by the shoulders and began to steer her away. “I believe we should visit the Constabulary station.”

“Why?” Bernstein was puzzled as Sisko guided her towards the van.

Sisko looked to Dax. “Do you have it?”

She held up the isolinear data rod from the tricorder. She’d palmed it before handing over the hand scanner. “Oh yeah. I’ve got it.”

Her grin was infectious. They reached the van and Sisko spoke, “Now we need to be out of here before those two figure out what we’ve done. Lt. Hathaway, are you coming? We could use your help.”

A sudden roar of outrage filled the air. Hathaway nodded. “I’m in.”

They piled into the van and its tires squealed as Dax stomped on the accelerator. Bernstein entered in the destination request and Dax’s HUD shifted. She wore a mischievous grin as she drove through the town. It was only a matter of time before the two Cardassian officers joined them at the Constabulary station. With luck, they’d have the mysterious Cardassian woman’s name and history by then.

Bernstein turned to face Sisko and Hathaway. “Diana, Dezuron was helping my people with forensics. Had they found anything?”

“Ilk and I were composing a battlefield analyses,” Hathaway reported. Seeing Bernstein’s curious look, she explained, “We were trying to establish how much training the killers had and what their motive was.”

“And did you?” Sisko inquired.

“Possibly,” Hathaway hedged. “They set up a rooftop sniper and then came through the front door while others of their unit flanked the other access points and killed the guards there as they tried to respond to the main assault. That speaks of a high degree of training and coordination.”

“So they were soldiers,” Bernstein growled.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Sisko countered. “Intelligence reports have the Cardassians recruiting ex-military personnel and relocating them into the DMZ and newly acquired Federation colonies.”

“And into the paramilitary units,” O’Brien added.

“So you don’t think this was the Cardassian Militia at work?” Bernstein asked.

“I don’t think it was an official arm of the Central Command,” Sisko clarified. “But the Central Command was supplying the paramilitaries with arms and training until recently. Officially, it has stopped.”

“Yeah, but unofficially the bastards are just sneakier about it,” O’Brien opined.

“Belay that, Chief. We aren’t here to worry about the Cardassians. The Maquis are our focus. The Central Command believes Starfleet is smuggling in weapons and training to the Maquis,” Sisko warned.

“But they only believe it because they’ve done it themselves and are probably still doing it,” Dax chimed in.

“Be that as it may, it still doesn’t answer the why of this attack,” Sisko reminded everyone.

Hathaway spoke up. “Commander, surviving witnesses claim the Cardassians took prisoners.”

Sisko’s blood ran cold. He retrieved a PADD out of his pocket, activated it, and scrolled through the information until he reached a file photo. He handed it to Hathaway.

“Did any of the witnesses describe the capture of this man?” Sisko asked sharply.

“They mentioned him by name,” Hathaway confirmed. “All they could talk about was how Cal Hudson had been taken.”

Bernstein whistled, “The Big Kahuna himself. He wasn’t among the bodies so I assumed he got away.”

“You knew he was there?” Sisko demanded.

“Yes,” Bernstein warily replied.

“You knew and didn’t tell me,” Sisko growled.

“You already suspected he was there or you wouldn’t have come all this way,” Bernstein fought back. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, I have one helluva crime scene back there.”

“And what were you going to do when it came time to arrest Hudson?” Sisko angrily inquired.

Bernstein smiled slyly. “Let’s just say Cal Hudson would’ve been on another rock before you reached him.”

“I could have your badge for this,” Sisko threatened.

Bernstein laughed. “How? You don’t have much more jurisdiction that our Cardassian friends.” Seeing Sisko’s sudden dawning of realization, she added, “You have what authority I give you. No more. No less. Right now I think your quest for Hudson will lead me to my killers so I’m willing to give you some rope.”

Hathaway looked perturbed, “What I want to know is: if the locals kept Hudson’s location from Dezuron and I, how did the Cardassians get it?”

Sisko suddenly looked gut punched. “They know because I told them where to find him.”

Acknowledgement

Many thanks to Bernd Schneider of Ex-Astris-Scientia.org for designing the Blackbird-class scout vessel mentioned in this story.

Feedback

Please send feedback and other correspondence regarding this story to Brin_Macen at yahoo dot com.