Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
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Improbable Deniability
“Okay, the main plasma distribution shunt, plasma intercooler and plasma intermix chamber are all properly plasma-aligned,” Tendi reported wiping her forehead. “Should I begin integrating the pulse actuator and flux moderator into the ODN matrix?”
“Not yet,” Rutherford said sitting next to her. He and Tendi were busy working on the dilapidated shuttlecraft propped up on support blocks. “Wait until I finish installing a few more self-sealing standoffs between the secondary rectilinear relays and magnetic plasma guides.”
“Guys! Guys!” A very agitated Boimler suddenly burst into the Repair Bay. “You’ll never guess what just happened!”
“Commander Ransom decided to shave his hair and stubble beard because he didn’t think they were nautical-looking enough?” Tendi ventured.
“No,” Boimler said.
“A powerful, non-corporeal alien entity was encountered by personnel who belonged to an organization other than Starfleet?” Rutherford conjectured.
“No,” Boimler shook his head.
“The Romulans successfully attempted a selfless time travel mission in order to stop a terrible, horrible, galaxy-wide catastrophe from occurring?” Tendi postulated. “Thus preventing the destruction of life, history and the very fabric of reality as we know it?”
“No!” Boimler shouted. “But those guesses are all far more probable and realistic than the mindboggling scene I just witnessed.”
“Really?” Rutherford was surprised. “What happened? Tell us! Tell us!”
“Okay, let me start from the beginning,” Boimler quickly collected his thoughts. “You know that lone star we launched a Class Five probe at yesterday?”
“The one that didn’t even have a name?” Tendi asked. “The one listed in the astronomical catalogue as GFC-419904?”
“Yep, that’s the one,” Boimler confirmed. “Turns out it’s not so alone anymore. Surveillance records from the probe showed an entire planet suddenly appeared in orbit around GFC-419904.”
“What?” Rutherford gasped in shock. “That’s incredible! Why didn’t we hear about this before?”
“Well, we have been working on the shuttlecraft all night,” Tendi reminded grabbing a padd and used it to bring up the latest related sensor data and reports. “Nobody bothered to inform us about it. We are Lower Decks after all.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s right,” Rutherford nodded. “So, how did this new planet manage to suddenly appear out of nowhere?”
“That’s what everyone has spent an entire duty shift trying to find out,” Boimler said. “Preliminary analyses show that the planet phase shifted in from another dimension.”
“Oh, so kind of like a Meridian situation?” Tendi asked.
“Apparently,” Boimler shrugged. “Except the status of GFC-419904’s new planet is now stable and won’t be phase shifting back to whatever original dimension it came from.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” Rutherford marveled in awe. “You’re right. I never would have guessed that.”
“That’s not the unbelievable part,” Boimler continued. “The new planet has already caught attention from several passing galactic neighbors. Three different ships are already orbiting the planet and threatening to fight each other over it.”
“What?” Tendi blinked. “Huh, interstellar news sure does travel fast. Almost as fast as the Cerritos’ rumor mill.”
“Are you kidding?” Boimler gave her a look. “Nothing travels faster than a rumor aboard the Cerritos.”
“You have a point,” Rutherford agreed. “So, what are the three ships threatening to fight each other?”
“Well, first there’s a Ferengi D’Kora-class marauder,” Boimler began ticking off his fingers. “Their DaiMon has tried to claim exploitation rights to the planet which is loaded with vendarite, cormaline, pergium and other valuable ores.”
“Ah, that would do it,” Tendi nodded in understanding.
“Then there’s a Yridian destroyer,” Boimler proceeded with the next ship. “Whose captain wants to establish a ‘sensor and observation outpost’.” He made air quotes with his fingers.
“You mean a spy station,” Rutherford translated.
“Yep,” Boimler confirmed. “Which kind of makes sense since GFC-419904 is closest to the Yridian system and the new planet’s unique geological composition creates a magnetic resonance effect combined with the radiation output of the star which allows the planet to have the fastest subspace transmission speed for parsecs around.”
“I see,” Tendi hummed studying the probe’s data.
“And finally, we have a Klingon K’Vort-class cruiser which has unilaterally claimed GFC-419904’s new planet for the Empire,” Boimler finished. “And wants to conqueror it because she and her crew are apparently really, really bored.”
“Ah, okay,” Rutherford said absently.
“And if that weren’t enough, scans also show an indigenous sentient species inhabiting the new planet,” Boimler went on. “Whose lives and society will be irreversibly damaged no matter which ship and associated interstellar power manages to prevail.”
“What?” Tendi gasped. “That’s terrible! Starfleet has to do something!”
“Unfortunately, we can’t,” Boimler explained. “The planet’s sentient species is a pre-warp civilization so the Prime Directive applies. The Cerritos can’t just go in and interfere with a species in order to save it.”
“I guess so,” Rutherford frowned at the situation. “Still, there must be something we can do.”
“Captain Freeman already hailed the other ships and offered to act as a mediator in the dispute,” Boimler informed his friends. “Starfleet would obviously prefer to have GFC-419904 declared off-limits to everyone, but the other ship captains aren’t interested. Instead, they’re threatening to fire on anyone who tries to interfere with their own plans, including the Cerritos.”
“Well, that’s not very reasonable,” Tendi commented. “Starfleet won’t take someone firing on a Federation ship lying down.”
“Why not? It’s happened before without any serious repercussions,” Rutherford pointed out. “Even way more often than you might think.”
“No kidding,” Boimler sighed. “The Cerritos can’t use force to make the other ships leave GFC-419904’s new planet alone. But doing nothing and allowing them to drastically interfere with a pre-warp civilization would be unconscionable. And despite their bluster the other ship captains aren’t willing to fire on one another first in order to preserve at least a veneer of plausible deniability. But they’re also apparently either too greedy, too arrogant or too prideful to back down.”
“Wow, what a standoff,” Tendi blinked at the situation. “Though it does kind of sound like an implausible made-up plot dreamt up by a third-rate holonovel writer. Wait, how do you know so much about the other ship captain’s behaviors and motivations?”
“Because I was the one who spent the past duty shift piloting the Cerritos to the new planet after Captain Freeman ordered us to return to GFC-419904 at record speed,” Boimler explained. “And I was also present when the Captain contacted and spent over an hour trying to negotiate with the other ship captains.”
“Ah, okay,” Rutherford nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”
“And here’s the really unbelievable part,” Boimler paused dramatically. “Mariner was on Bridge duty with me the entire time and witnessed the whole thing. And she did…absolutely nothing!”
“Huh?” Tendi and Rutherford blinked. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!” Boimler shook his head in amazement. “Mariner didn’t say a thing! No sarcastic commentary. No whispered criticism. No mocking, protesting or talking back to the Captain. Nothing!”
“Wow, that’s a shocking first,” Rutherford remarked. “Though not an unpleasant one. You must be relieved.”
“Actually, Mariner’s uncharacteristically respectful behavior has me even more concerned,” Boimler gulped worriedly. “I’ve never seen her act in a such a cold, standoffish way before. That means she must be secretly holding all her frustrations in and planning to unleash them by doing Q the heck knows what!”
“Yo, hey guys!” Mariner waved sauntering into the Repair Bay. “What’cha doing?”
“Oh, not much,” Tendi greeted cheerfully. “Boimler was just telling us all about the recent finding around star GFC-419904 and the related standoff going on in orbit around its new planet.”
“Ah, so you’ve heard about it, huh?” Mariner nodded. “That didn’t take long. Talk about a triple-sized combo of duty, ethics and realpolitik. But never fear! I know how to handle this.”
“Oh no! Here it goes!” Boimler cried bracing himself. “You’re about to go on yet another unauthorized mission to try and have everything work out. But it’s not going to happen! I’m not going to let you ruin Starfleet’s outstanding reputation of dignity, honor and respect. Not to mention what little remains of your own!”
“Geeze, relax Boims,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “No need to go to Red Alert. I’m not going out on some wild private mission this time. I’m not even going to leave the ship.”
“Really?” Boimler blinked, stunned. “You’re just going to passively stand off to the side and watch how everything unfolds?”
“Now I didn’t say that,” Mariner grinned wickedly. “Hey, Ruthy. Fire up your modified relay processing core and separate subspace antenna array, will ya? I got a few off-the-record comm calls to make.”
“Okey-dokey!” Rutherford shrugged doing so.
“Oh no,” Boimler groaned. “I should have known!”
“Shhhh, keep it down Boims and stay out of sight,” Mariner shushed while positioning herself in front of a desktop monitor connected to Rutherford’s relay equipment. “And that goes for the rest of you guys too.”
“Okay!” Tendi smiled scooting aside.
“Alright, comm is up,” Rutherford announced activating his equipment. “All systems are stable.”
“Great. Good job, Ruthy. I owe you one,” Mariner nodded before tapping the desktop terminal and opening a series of discreet hails. “Yo! What up, peoples?”
“Beckett Mariner!” The face of a scarred, bearded Klingon appeared on one-third of the monitor. He seemed to be working in a small maintenance room. “I thought I told you never to contact me again, you stinking piece of baktag!”
“Nice to see you too, Ch’Par,” Mariner greeted. “How’s the ol’ forehead ridge holding up?”
“It aches every time the Ku’leth surpasses warp five point six!” Ch’Par snarled. “No thanks to you!”
“Oh great. Now what?” The image of a uniformed, low-ranking Ferengi appeared alongside that of Ch’Par’s. “Mariner. Why am I not surprised to see you out here?”
“Relax, Greb,” Mariner waved. “I’m not calling you about paying back those three strips of latinum you owe me. Or the other sixteen either.”
“This is highly irregular,” The final visage on the display screen was that of a wrinkled Yridian female. “How are you managing to encode a covert communication signal like this? It’s not even appearing on my ship’s extensive sensor sweeps or security logs.”
“Sorry, Nyksis. That’s on a need-to-know basis,” Mariner said. “Speaking of which, let’s all have a chat on how to resolve the potential brouhaha that’s on the verge of breaking out between your three ships.”
“Why should I do that?” Ch’Par snapped irritably. “I’m not the captain or one of the Ku’leth’s senior officers. Those swaggering top’as probably don’t even know a mid-grade weapons’ maintenance technician like me exists!”
“No kidding,” Greb grumbled. “I’m just a particle emission monitoring grub-digger. Compared to a DaiMon, my yearly wage amounts to a rounding error of a rounding error.”
“Besides, how could I possibly affect this impasse situation’s outcome?” Nyksis asked. “I am only a semi-confidential-level data analysis and collector aboard my ship. I do not possess any information worth attempting to present to my superiors.”
“Exactly. You’re all ignored, overlooked and forgotten lower decks personnel just like me,” Mariner pointed out. “And you all just happen to occupy solitary yet key ship positions that are vital in carrying out my latest plan.”
“Oh no! Don’t even think about it, Mariner!” Ch’Par hissed. “I am not some honorless petaQ to attempt sabotage or pass ship secrets to a conniving taHqeq like you!”
“Don’t worry, Ch’Par. I’m not asking you to do anything dishonorable that will harm your ship or crew in any way,” Mariner held up her hands. “I just need you to slightly modify the Ku’leth’s prefire chambers to generate large amounts of duderon radiation. Your ship’s disruptors emit duderon radiation anyway so nobody will notice a bit more.”
“What?” Ch’Par stared at Mariner in confusion. “Why should I do that?”
“Because I’m asking you to,” Mariner explained. “Just like I’m asking Greb here to tweak his ship’s warp nacelles to flood the surrounding area with anyon particles.”
“Anyon particles?” Greb frowned. “But anyons are harmless. Even in planet-covering quantities, deliberately saturating an area with anyon particles is pointless.”
“Then you shouldn’t have any reason not to do it,” Mariner pointed out. “Pass it off as a maintenance accident or something. And Nyksis, once the local anyon concentration reaches nineteen parts per million, I want you to run a high-intensity tachyon scan of the planet and surrounding space. At a frequency of just over 720 gigahertz.”
“A high-intensity tachyon scan?” Nyksis repeated questioningly. “Whatever for?”
“You’ll see,” Mariner smiled cryptically. “Trust me, guys. This will all work out for the best.”
“Forget it, Mariner,” Ch’Par snapped. “I’m not falling for another of your crazy, underhanded tricks. You’ve fooled me for the last time, you honorless d’blok!”
“Watch it, Ch’Par,” Mariner warned. “Don’t make me resort to bringing out the big guns.”
“Ha! In your dreams!” Ch’Par declared boastingly. “I laugh at your puny threats! I am a proud soldier of the Empire! I am a Klingon warrior! I fear nothing! Nothing, you hear me?”
“Really?” Mariner grinned whipping out a padd. She quickly opened a separate communication channel with it. “Hey, Na’Dak! Long time, no bleed!”
“Oh no!” Ch’Par blanched. “Not her!”
“Na’Dak? Who is she?” Nyksis asked curiously. “A powerful starship captain or general? A famed Klingon assassin? A rogue agent of Imperial Intelligence?”
“Worse,” Ch’Par paled. “She’s my wife!”
“Mariner! You old saber bear!” A regal-sounding female voice boomed over the padd. “Still not dead, I see.”
“Not for lack of trying,” Mariner shrugged. “Hey, guess what your husband did the last time he stopped by Maranga IV?”
“What?!” Na’Dak’s voice turned shrill. “That sneaky k’pekt never told me he visited Maranga IV! I bet he went there last year instead of being with me on our wedding anniversary, didn’t he? DIDN’T HE?!”
“Oh no,” Ch’Par trembled in horror. “I’m a dead man!”
“Not yet,” Mariner grinned muting her padd. “Though you’ll wish you were if I tell Na’Dak here what really happened while you were at Maranga IV. Unless the Ku’leth starts generating a whole lot of duderon radiation pronto.”
“Fine, I’ll do it,” Ch’Par gulped. “I’ll do anything! Just don’t tell her…!”
“Mariner! Mariner, are you still there?” Na’Dak demanded.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Mariner said unmuting her padd. “Just wanted to see if you liked the Terellian diamond-studded gorget Ch’Par picked up for you while he was at Maranga IV. And the matching knuckle-armored gauntlets.”
“He what?” Na’Dak sounded stunned. “I never heard about this. That lazy husband of mine finally did something right! But wait, I never received those gifts.”
“Oh, guess he’s just been waiting for a special occasion to give them to you,” Mariner said. “Let me know when he does, okay. Oops, gotta go. See ya!”
“Great,” Ch’Par groaned as Mariner closed the channel with Na’Dak. “Thanks a lot, Mariner. Now I have to get those gifts you mentioned for my wife or else I’ll never be able to go home. What am I saying? That old bat’leth would simply come after me no matter what!”
“Don’t worry, Ch’Par. I’ll hook you up with a supplier I know who can get you that stuff guaranteed,” Mariner assured him. “Though it might cost you an arm and a leg. Literally.”
“Still better than what Na’Dak will do to me,” Ch’Par moaned. “And a lost less painful too!”
“Ha, silly Klingon,” Greb chuckled. “Serves you right for permitting your females to possess so much power and opportunities. A Ferengi would never allow himself to be cowed by a female like that. Even with the latest round of social and economic reforms, my wife knows her place.”
“Oh yeah?” Mariner grinned punching her padd again. “Hey, Hisha. What’s shaking?”
“By the sweet Blessed Exchequer, no!” Greb blanched. “Not my Moogie!”
“Mariner? Is that you?” A sharp-toned female voice came over the padd. “Why are you contacting me at this hour? I’m trying to sleep.”
“Your beauty sleep?” Mariner quipped. “Don’t bother. You look gorgeous. Anywho, want to know what potentially unprofitable deals your son made on the Sepian Commodities Exchange?”
“HE WHAT?!” Hisha’s outraged shrieks were even louder that Na’Dak’s. “That lobeless little gree-worm! I bet he invested what little latinum he had in gouge mining and lokar beans again! Do you have any idea how far prices have fallen in the last week alone?”
“Oh no,” Greb’s ears turned white. “Don’t tell her!”
“It depends on the local anyon particle count,” Mariner warned muting the padd once more. “If it goes high enough, I wouldn’t tell Hisha how you used six months of her allocated stipend to pay for your investments. Along with that of your mother-in-law…”
“Aggghhh! Fine! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” Greb babbled desperately immediately leaping into action. “See? I’m doing it right now!”
“Good to hear,” Mariner said unmuting her padd. “Yo, don’t worry, Hisha. Greb’s investments didn’t fail. In fact, his cunning business savvy allowed him to make a profit while far wealthier and more experienced investors took a loss.”
“He did?” Hisha sounded stunned. “Well, that’s a first. Guess all those years of pre-chewing his food finally paid off.”
“Yet another sound investment strategy made by you,” Mariner remarked. “You can tell me all about it later. Gotta run. Bye!”
“Oh no,” Greb groaned as Mariner closed out her padd. “Nice going, Mariner. Now I need to alter my financial portfolio records along with scrapping up an outrageous amount of profit from only Gint knows where!”
“Relax, Greb. I’ll handle it,” Mariner soothed. “I’ll gladly arrange to have the necessary funds lent to an old friend like you. With a relatively modest interest rate too.”
“I should have known,” Greb moaned. “Maybe I should start preparing to sell my vacuum-desiccated remains on the Ferengi Futures Exchange?”
“Na, better hold off on that,” Mariner advised. “What’s the point of earning any profit you won’t enjoy?”
“This has all been a very informative and questionably entertaining experience, Mariner,” Nyksis spoke up. “But such coercive tactics will not work on me. I have no mate, no family and my superiors know all about my past and secrets anyway.”
“Except for the whole mud wrap ‘accident’ you just happened to be involved in with the Proxcinians,” Mariner reminded. “Which included you, a giant bathtub full of noodles, some Balosnee incense, the stationmaster’s barely-legal twin nephews…”
“HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?!” Nyksis yelped.
“You ain’t the only information specialist, ya know,” Mariner smirked. “I even have a video or three of the whole thing lying around somewhere.”
“WHAT?!” Nyksis cried.
“Sure would be a shame if copies of those videos would just ‘happen’ to be sent to every one of your superiors,” Mariner went on hypothetically. “Not to mention your crew, the entire Yridian planetary net and various subspace broadcasts in general. Hmmm, I wonder how much war surplus the Proxcinians still have in stock?”
“You wouldn’t,” Nyksis blanched.
“She would,” Greb groaned. “Trust me on this.”
“Fine,” Nyksis looked completely dejected. “I will run the tachyon scan as you described.”
“Great. Knew I could count on you, Nyky,” Mariner smiled. “Catch up with ya later. Ciao!”
“O-kay,” A completely stunned Boimler stared at Mariner with his jaw agape. Tendi and Rutherford were in a similar state. “What the heck was all that about?”
“You’ll find out in a minute, Boims,” Mariner smirked closing out all the communication channels and equipment. “Should be any second now…”
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Improbable Deniability
“Okay, the main plasma distribution shunt, plasma intercooler and plasma intermix chamber are all properly plasma-aligned,” Tendi reported wiping her forehead. “Should I begin integrating the pulse actuator and flux moderator into the ODN matrix?”
“Not yet,” Rutherford said sitting next to her. He and Tendi were busy working on the dilapidated shuttlecraft propped up on support blocks. “Wait until I finish installing a few more self-sealing standoffs between the secondary rectilinear relays and magnetic plasma guides.”
“Guys! Guys!” A very agitated Boimler suddenly burst into the Repair Bay. “You’ll never guess what just happened!”
“Commander Ransom decided to shave his hair and stubble beard because he didn’t think they were nautical-looking enough?” Tendi ventured.
“No,” Boimler said.
“A powerful, non-corporeal alien entity was encountered by personnel who belonged to an organization other than Starfleet?” Rutherford conjectured.
“No,” Boimler shook his head.
“The Romulans successfully attempted a selfless time travel mission in order to stop a terrible, horrible, galaxy-wide catastrophe from occurring?” Tendi postulated. “Thus preventing the destruction of life, history and the very fabric of reality as we know it?”
“No!” Boimler shouted. “But those guesses are all far more probable and realistic than the mindboggling scene I just witnessed.”
“Really?” Rutherford was surprised. “What happened? Tell us! Tell us!”
“Okay, let me start from the beginning,” Boimler quickly collected his thoughts. “You know that lone star we launched a Class Five probe at yesterday?”
“The one that didn’t even have a name?” Tendi asked. “The one listed in the astronomical catalogue as GFC-419904?”
“Yep, that’s the one,” Boimler confirmed. “Turns out it’s not so alone anymore. Surveillance records from the probe showed an entire planet suddenly appeared in orbit around GFC-419904.”
“What?” Rutherford gasped in shock. “That’s incredible! Why didn’t we hear about this before?”
“Well, we have been working on the shuttlecraft all night,” Tendi reminded grabbing a padd and used it to bring up the latest related sensor data and reports. “Nobody bothered to inform us about it. We are Lower Decks after all.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s right,” Rutherford nodded. “So, how did this new planet manage to suddenly appear out of nowhere?”
“That’s what everyone has spent an entire duty shift trying to find out,” Boimler said. “Preliminary analyses show that the planet phase shifted in from another dimension.”
“Oh, so kind of like a Meridian situation?” Tendi asked.
“Apparently,” Boimler shrugged. “Except the status of GFC-419904’s new planet is now stable and won’t be phase shifting back to whatever original dimension it came from.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” Rutherford marveled in awe. “You’re right. I never would have guessed that.”
“That’s not the unbelievable part,” Boimler continued. “The new planet has already caught attention from several passing galactic neighbors. Three different ships are already orbiting the planet and threatening to fight each other over it.”
“What?” Tendi blinked. “Huh, interstellar news sure does travel fast. Almost as fast as the Cerritos’ rumor mill.”
“Are you kidding?” Boimler gave her a look. “Nothing travels faster than a rumor aboard the Cerritos.”
“You have a point,” Rutherford agreed. “So, what are the three ships threatening to fight each other?”
“Well, first there’s a Ferengi D’Kora-class marauder,” Boimler began ticking off his fingers. “Their DaiMon has tried to claim exploitation rights to the planet which is loaded with vendarite, cormaline, pergium and other valuable ores.”
“Ah, that would do it,” Tendi nodded in understanding.
“Then there’s a Yridian destroyer,” Boimler proceeded with the next ship. “Whose captain wants to establish a ‘sensor and observation outpost’.” He made air quotes with his fingers.
“You mean a spy station,” Rutherford translated.
“Yep,” Boimler confirmed. “Which kind of makes sense since GFC-419904 is closest to the Yridian system and the new planet’s unique geological composition creates a magnetic resonance effect combined with the radiation output of the star which allows the planet to have the fastest subspace transmission speed for parsecs around.”
“I see,” Tendi hummed studying the probe’s data.
“And finally, we have a Klingon K’Vort-class cruiser which has unilaterally claimed GFC-419904’s new planet for the Empire,” Boimler finished. “And wants to conqueror it because she and her crew are apparently really, really bored.”
“Ah, okay,” Rutherford said absently.
“And if that weren’t enough, scans also show an indigenous sentient species inhabiting the new planet,” Boimler went on. “Whose lives and society will be irreversibly damaged no matter which ship and associated interstellar power manages to prevail.”
“What?” Tendi gasped. “That’s terrible! Starfleet has to do something!”
“Unfortunately, we can’t,” Boimler explained. “The planet’s sentient species is a pre-warp civilization so the Prime Directive applies. The Cerritos can’t just go in and interfere with a species in order to save it.”
“I guess so,” Rutherford frowned at the situation. “Still, there must be something we can do.”
“Captain Freeman already hailed the other ships and offered to act as a mediator in the dispute,” Boimler informed his friends. “Starfleet would obviously prefer to have GFC-419904 declared off-limits to everyone, but the other ship captains aren’t interested. Instead, they’re threatening to fire on anyone who tries to interfere with their own plans, including the Cerritos.”
“Well, that’s not very reasonable,” Tendi commented. “Starfleet won’t take someone firing on a Federation ship lying down.”
“Why not? It’s happened before without any serious repercussions,” Rutherford pointed out. “Even way more often than you might think.”
“No kidding,” Boimler sighed. “The Cerritos can’t use force to make the other ships leave GFC-419904’s new planet alone. But doing nothing and allowing them to drastically interfere with a pre-warp civilization would be unconscionable. And despite their bluster the other ship captains aren’t willing to fire on one another first in order to preserve at least a veneer of plausible deniability. But they’re also apparently either too greedy, too arrogant or too prideful to back down.”
“Wow, what a standoff,” Tendi blinked at the situation. “Though it does kind of sound like an implausible made-up plot dreamt up by a third-rate holonovel writer. Wait, how do you know so much about the other ship captain’s behaviors and motivations?”
“Because I was the one who spent the past duty shift piloting the Cerritos to the new planet after Captain Freeman ordered us to return to GFC-419904 at record speed,” Boimler explained. “And I was also present when the Captain contacted and spent over an hour trying to negotiate with the other ship captains.”
“Ah, okay,” Rutherford nodded. “I guess that makes sense.”
“And here’s the really unbelievable part,” Boimler paused dramatically. “Mariner was on Bridge duty with me the entire time and witnessed the whole thing. And she did…absolutely nothing!”
“Huh?” Tendi and Rutherford blinked. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!” Boimler shook his head in amazement. “Mariner didn’t say a thing! No sarcastic commentary. No whispered criticism. No mocking, protesting or talking back to the Captain. Nothing!”
“Wow, that’s a shocking first,” Rutherford remarked. “Though not an unpleasant one. You must be relieved.”
“Actually, Mariner’s uncharacteristically respectful behavior has me even more concerned,” Boimler gulped worriedly. “I’ve never seen her act in a such a cold, standoffish way before. That means she must be secretly holding all her frustrations in and planning to unleash them by doing Q the heck knows what!”
“Yo, hey guys!” Mariner waved sauntering into the Repair Bay. “What’cha doing?”
“Oh, not much,” Tendi greeted cheerfully. “Boimler was just telling us all about the recent finding around star GFC-419904 and the related standoff going on in orbit around its new planet.”
“Ah, so you’ve heard about it, huh?” Mariner nodded. “That didn’t take long. Talk about a triple-sized combo of duty, ethics and realpolitik. But never fear! I know how to handle this.”
“Oh no! Here it goes!” Boimler cried bracing himself. “You’re about to go on yet another unauthorized mission to try and have everything work out. But it’s not going to happen! I’m not going to let you ruin Starfleet’s outstanding reputation of dignity, honor and respect. Not to mention what little remains of your own!”
“Geeze, relax Boims,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “No need to go to Red Alert. I’m not going out on some wild private mission this time. I’m not even going to leave the ship.”
“Really?” Boimler blinked, stunned. “You’re just going to passively stand off to the side and watch how everything unfolds?”
“Now I didn’t say that,” Mariner grinned wickedly. “Hey, Ruthy. Fire up your modified relay processing core and separate subspace antenna array, will ya? I got a few off-the-record comm calls to make.”
“Okey-dokey!” Rutherford shrugged doing so.
“Oh no,” Boimler groaned. “I should have known!”
“Shhhh, keep it down Boims and stay out of sight,” Mariner shushed while positioning herself in front of a desktop monitor connected to Rutherford’s relay equipment. “And that goes for the rest of you guys too.”
“Okay!” Tendi smiled scooting aside.
“Alright, comm is up,” Rutherford announced activating his equipment. “All systems are stable.”
“Great. Good job, Ruthy. I owe you one,” Mariner nodded before tapping the desktop terminal and opening a series of discreet hails. “Yo! What up, peoples?”
“Beckett Mariner!” The face of a scarred, bearded Klingon appeared on one-third of the monitor. He seemed to be working in a small maintenance room. “I thought I told you never to contact me again, you stinking piece of baktag!”
“Nice to see you too, Ch’Par,” Mariner greeted. “How’s the ol’ forehead ridge holding up?”
“It aches every time the Ku’leth surpasses warp five point six!” Ch’Par snarled. “No thanks to you!”
“Oh great. Now what?” The image of a uniformed, low-ranking Ferengi appeared alongside that of Ch’Par’s. “Mariner. Why am I not surprised to see you out here?”
“Relax, Greb,” Mariner waved. “I’m not calling you about paying back those three strips of latinum you owe me. Or the other sixteen either.”
“This is highly irregular,” The final visage on the display screen was that of a wrinkled Yridian female. “How are you managing to encode a covert communication signal like this? It’s not even appearing on my ship’s extensive sensor sweeps or security logs.”
“Sorry, Nyksis. That’s on a need-to-know basis,” Mariner said. “Speaking of which, let’s all have a chat on how to resolve the potential brouhaha that’s on the verge of breaking out between your three ships.”
“Why should I do that?” Ch’Par snapped irritably. “I’m not the captain or one of the Ku’leth’s senior officers. Those swaggering top’as probably don’t even know a mid-grade weapons’ maintenance technician like me exists!”
“No kidding,” Greb grumbled. “I’m just a particle emission monitoring grub-digger. Compared to a DaiMon, my yearly wage amounts to a rounding error of a rounding error.”
“Besides, how could I possibly affect this impasse situation’s outcome?” Nyksis asked. “I am only a semi-confidential-level data analysis and collector aboard my ship. I do not possess any information worth attempting to present to my superiors.”
“Exactly. You’re all ignored, overlooked and forgotten lower decks personnel just like me,” Mariner pointed out. “And you all just happen to occupy solitary yet key ship positions that are vital in carrying out my latest plan.”
“Oh no! Don’t even think about it, Mariner!” Ch’Par hissed. “I am not some honorless petaQ to attempt sabotage or pass ship secrets to a conniving taHqeq like you!”
“Don’t worry, Ch’Par. I’m not asking you to do anything dishonorable that will harm your ship or crew in any way,” Mariner held up her hands. “I just need you to slightly modify the Ku’leth’s prefire chambers to generate large amounts of duderon radiation. Your ship’s disruptors emit duderon radiation anyway so nobody will notice a bit more.”
“What?” Ch’Par stared at Mariner in confusion. “Why should I do that?”
“Because I’m asking you to,” Mariner explained. “Just like I’m asking Greb here to tweak his ship’s warp nacelles to flood the surrounding area with anyon particles.”
“Anyon particles?” Greb frowned. “But anyons are harmless. Even in planet-covering quantities, deliberately saturating an area with anyon particles is pointless.”
“Then you shouldn’t have any reason not to do it,” Mariner pointed out. “Pass it off as a maintenance accident or something. And Nyksis, once the local anyon concentration reaches nineteen parts per million, I want you to run a high-intensity tachyon scan of the planet and surrounding space. At a frequency of just over 720 gigahertz.”
“A high-intensity tachyon scan?” Nyksis repeated questioningly. “Whatever for?”
“You’ll see,” Mariner smiled cryptically. “Trust me, guys. This will all work out for the best.”
“Forget it, Mariner,” Ch’Par snapped. “I’m not falling for another of your crazy, underhanded tricks. You’ve fooled me for the last time, you honorless d’blok!”
“Watch it, Ch’Par,” Mariner warned. “Don’t make me resort to bringing out the big guns.”
“Ha! In your dreams!” Ch’Par declared boastingly. “I laugh at your puny threats! I am a proud soldier of the Empire! I am a Klingon warrior! I fear nothing! Nothing, you hear me?”
“Really?” Mariner grinned whipping out a padd. She quickly opened a separate communication channel with it. “Hey, Na’Dak! Long time, no bleed!”
“Oh no!” Ch’Par blanched. “Not her!”
“Na’Dak? Who is she?” Nyksis asked curiously. “A powerful starship captain or general? A famed Klingon assassin? A rogue agent of Imperial Intelligence?”
“Worse,” Ch’Par paled. “She’s my wife!”
“Mariner! You old saber bear!” A regal-sounding female voice boomed over the padd. “Still not dead, I see.”
“Not for lack of trying,” Mariner shrugged. “Hey, guess what your husband did the last time he stopped by Maranga IV?”
“What?!” Na’Dak’s voice turned shrill. “That sneaky k’pekt never told me he visited Maranga IV! I bet he went there last year instead of being with me on our wedding anniversary, didn’t he? DIDN’T HE?!”
“Oh no,” Ch’Par trembled in horror. “I’m a dead man!”
“Not yet,” Mariner grinned muting her padd. “Though you’ll wish you were if I tell Na’Dak here what really happened while you were at Maranga IV. Unless the Ku’leth starts generating a whole lot of duderon radiation pronto.”
“Fine, I’ll do it,” Ch’Par gulped. “I’ll do anything! Just don’t tell her…!”
“Mariner! Mariner, are you still there?” Na’Dak demanded.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Mariner said unmuting her padd. “Just wanted to see if you liked the Terellian diamond-studded gorget Ch’Par picked up for you while he was at Maranga IV. And the matching knuckle-armored gauntlets.”
“He what?” Na’Dak sounded stunned. “I never heard about this. That lazy husband of mine finally did something right! But wait, I never received those gifts.”
“Oh, guess he’s just been waiting for a special occasion to give them to you,” Mariner said. “Let me know when he does, okay. Oops, gotta go. See ya!”
“Great,” Ch’Par groaned as Mariner closed the channel with Na’Dak. “Thanks a lot, Mariner. Now I have to get those gifts you mentioned for my wife or else I’ll never be able to go home. What am I saying? That old bat’leth would simply come after me no matter what!”
“Don’t worry, Ch’Par. I’ll hook you up with a supplier I know who can get you that stuff guaranteed,” Mariner assured him. “Though it might cost you an arm and a leg. Literally.”
“Still better than what Na’Dak will do to me,” Ch’Par moaned. “And a lost less painful too!”
“Ha, silly Klingon,” Greb chuckled. “Serves you right for permitting your females to possess so much power and opportunities. A Ferengi would never allow himself to be cowed by a female like that. Even with the latest round of social and economic reforms, my wife knows her place.”
“Oh yeah?” Mariner grinned punching her padd again. “Hey, Hisha. What’s shaking?”
“By the sweet Blessed Exchequer, no!” Greb blanched. “Not my Moogie!”
“Mariner? Is that you?” A sharp-toned female voice came over the padd. “Why are you contacting me at this hour? I’m trying to sleep.”
“Your beauty sleep?” Mariner quipped. “Don’t bother. You look gorgeous. Anywho, want to know what potentially unprofitable deals your son made on the Sepian Commodities Exchange?”
“HE WHAT?!” Hisha’s outraged shrieks were even louder that Na’Dak’s. “That lobeless little gree-worm! I bet he invested what little latinum he had in gouge mining and lokar beans again! Do you have any idea how far prices have fallen in the last week alone?”
“Oh no,” Greb’s ears turned white. “Don’t tell her!”
“It depends on the local anyon particle count,” Mariner warned muting the padd once more. “If it goes high enough, I wouldn’t tell Hisha how you used six months of her allocated stipend to pay for your investments. Along with that of your mother-in-law…”
“Aggghhh! Fine! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” Greb babbled desperately immediately leaping into action. “See? I’m doing it right now!”
“Good to hear,” Mariner said unmuting her padd. “Yo, don’t worry, Hisha. Greb’s investments didn’t fail. In fact, his cunning business savvy allowed him to make a profit while far wealthier and more experienced investors took a loss.”
“He did?” Hisha sounded stunned. “Well, that’s a first. Guess all those years of pre-chewing his food finally paid off.”
“Yet another sound investment strategy made by you,” Mariner remarked. “You can tell me all about it later. Gotta run. Bye!”
“Oh no,” Greb groaned as Mariner closed out her padd. “Nice going, Mariner. Now I need to alter my financial portfolio records along with scrapping up an outrageous amount of profit from only Gint knows where!”
“Relax, Greb. I’ll handle it,” Mariner soothed. “I’ll gladly arrange to have the necessary funds lent to an old friend like you. With a relatively modest interest rate too.”
“I should have known,” Greb moaned. “Maybe I should start preparing to sell my vacuum-desiccated remains on the Ferengi Futures Exchange?”
“Na, better hold off on that,” Mariner advised. “What’s the point of earning any profit you won’t enjoy?”
“This has all been a very informative and questionably entertaining experience, Mariner,” Nyksis spoke up. “But such coercive tactics will not work on me. I have no mate, no family and my superiors know all about my past and secrets anyway.”
“Except for the whole mud wrap ‘accident’ you just happened to be involved in with the Proxcinians,” Mariner reminded. “Which included you, a giant bathtub full of noodles, some Balosnee incense, the stationmaster’s barely-legal twin nephews…”
“HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?!” Nyksis yelped.
“You ain’t the only information specialist, ya know,” Mariner smirked. “I even have a video or three of the whole thing lying around somewhere.”
“WHAT?!” Nyksis cried.
“Sure would be a shame if copies of those videos would just ‘happen’ to be sent to every one of your superiors,” Mariner went on hypothetically. “Not to mention your crew, the entire Yridian planetary net and various subspace broadcasts in general. Hmmm, I wonder how much war surplus the Proxcinians still have in stock?”
“You wouldn’t,” Nyksis blanched.
“She would,” Greb groaned. “Trust me on this.”
“Fine,” Nyksis looked completely dejected. “I will run the tachyon scan as you described.”
“Great. Knew I could count on you, Nyky,” Mariner smiled. “Catch up with ya later. Ciao!”
“O-kay,” A completely stunned Boimler stared at Mariner with his jaw agape. Tendi and Rutherford were in a similar state. “What the heck was all that about?”
“You’ll find out in a minute, Boims,” Mariner smirked closing out all the communication channels and equipment. “Should be any second now…”
Nice story. Mariner pulled a tribble out of her hat. Loved it!
