Nicely done! I wouldn't want to be Slade once the debriefing begins--something tells me he's going to be missing a few inches of rear end after Masamune finishes chewing on it. As for Lt. Mech, got to get her for the team...
Barely Human: Shadow Plays
- Thread starter CeJay
- Start date
Great segment! As to Black, sounds to me like the robot from the old movie Westworld played by Yul Brinner. 
Thanks for all the great feedback.
The last post concluded part one. Barely Human will take a short hiatus before returning with part two.
Part one is now also available to read at http://www.barelyhuman.us.
The last post concluded part one. Barely Human will take a short hiatus before returning with part two.
Part one is now also available to read at http://www.barelyhuman.us.
*********
PART TWO
*********
018 – “The Offer Stands.”
Mech watched the sun rise over the city from the thirty-eight floor of the Civic Center Tower, an imposing glass structure build on top of the old Museum of Asian Culture which still contained the largest collection of ancient Asian art in Federation space.
“Let me make sure I get this straight. You are saying that a high-ranking Starfleet officer wants you dead and already almost succeeded in killing you by utilizing a UEDA orbital weapons platform, and that the same man was in league with a stims dealing criminal we only recently found out to be an android with links to Michael Gary Grayson.”
Mech had crossed her arms in front of her chest as her gaze had wandered towards civic center square below. The iconic domed city hall building across the street was still dark but would be bustling with activity soon enough.
“Yes.”
Masamune leaned back in his heavy swivel chair, his hawk like eyes watching Mech’s back intently. “And I suppose you have no evidence to support any of this.”
“No.”
Masamune nodded. “We have gathered some circumstantial evidence to suggest links between the android we have nicknamed Mister Black and Grayson since we have begun to investigate this case a few months ago. I find it difficult to believe however Starfleet could be involved. I’m admittedly not their greatest admirer but to suggest they might be tied up in a criminal enterprise right here in this city is a difficult implication to digest.”
“May that as it be,” Mech said and turned to face the old man, “I know that they want me out of the picture.”
“But why? Up until now you haven’t even been involved in this case.”
“Let’s say I might have snooped around in places somebody does not want me to look.”
A small smile crossed Masamune’s features. “You do have a talent for that. But what exactly have you been looking into and how does it relate to my case?”
The young woman avoided eye contact.
“Come on now, don’t play coy with me. Clearly we’ve stumbled upon something here which is bigger than we both imagined. Let us pool our resources and get to the bottom of this.”
Now Mech cracked her lips for a slight grin. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“It makes sense. The way I see it I need you and you –“
“I can do this on my own,” she interrupted. “I don’t need your help.”
The chief of MSD leaned back in his high-back chair again and studied her carefully. “If we were to deal with another run-of-the-mill cyber-gangster back on Nyuchiba then yes, no doubt you could handle it with ease. But this is different and I know you’ve realized this. Go ahead, try and do this by yourself. Face Grayson, a man with seemingly limitless resources, take on all of Starfleet and the Federation government. And then what’s next? You’ll conquer the Klingon Empire single handedly?”
At this Mech laughed. She didn’t much and it was a very subtle sound, almost forced.
“I’m not saying that by joining me you’ll have a free hand to deal with Grayson and Starfleet as you like. But as far as this city is concerned we have far reaching powers. We can investigate who we want and what we want.”
“This is bigger than this city.”
Masamune nodded in agreement. “I know. Let me work on that. But for the meantime this is where everything seems to come together. Let’s concentrate on that first.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Everything she had found out so far was pointing decisively to the City at the Bay. This was the focus point of whatever events had been set in motion.
“Fine,” Mech said after a few seconds of consideration. “As long as you understand that this is a temporary measure. And I don’t want to have to worry about power struggles or be slowed down by bothersome regulations.”
Masamune stood. “You’ll be team leader with a wide range of pre-emptive authority. However you’ll have to be flexible too. Every playground has rules, some of which we’ll be able to bend but not all. Play fair and I promise I will try to do whatever I can to keep the heat off your back.”
Mech grinned. “We’ve got a deal,” she said and shook Masamune’s hand.
“Where are you going to start?”
Mech considered that question for a moment. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the fact that Whren didn’t recognize me even though he tried to have me killed. I spoke to him only very shortly before Black intervened but he mentioned a large scale operation and something tells me it’s going to happen right here. We need to get our hands on him again.”
Masamune shook his head. “That’d be difficult. We don’t have jurisdiction at Starfleet Headquarters and if Whren is as guilty as you make him sound he’s going to make damn sure he’s not going to leave Starfleet premises. Short of infiltrating their compound we can pretty much forget of getting close to the man.”
Mech’s eyes sparkled.
“You can’t be serious. That’s even out of your league.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “There might be another way.”
The doors to the office opened to allow the CCiD team members to enter. Most of them looked tired. Their heads hung low due to the less than successful mission the night before. The dampened mood was palpable.
“Excellent,” said Masamune. “Time for introductions.”
Tank ‘s spirits rose almost instantly “He finally got you convinced, didn’t he? About time you come aboard. It’ll be just like old times.”
“I hope not,” Mech replied with an eye wink.
“You’ve already met Gavin Thorgood,” said Masamune.
“Welcome aboard,” the young agent said.
Mech gave him a nod.
“The rest of the team, please meet Miss McLaren.”
“Mech will be fine,” she was quick to point out.
“Sly Martinez, our weapons and equipment expert; the newest member of the team, Bobbie Case, cybernetics specialist; Eldex from Benzar knows about everything you would ever need to know about computer systems; Hailey Rodgers pilots our SAFVe and of course you’ve also run into Jackson Slade.”
Each team member gave Mech a friendly smile. The only two exceptions, Bobbie Case who seemed to be bursting with exhilaration and Slade who completely ignored the new member and instead kept his gaze focus on the man in charge.
“And in what capacity exactly is Miss McLaren joining us?” he asked.
Masamune locked eyes with the dark haired man. “She’ll be taking over as team leader. Temporarily.”
Slade took a step forward. “I know that I messed up yesterday, letting that Starfleet officer fool me in giving up that body –“
“You practically gave it to them on a silver platter,” said Tank.
Slade ignored the snide comment. “But this treatment is uncalled for. You can’t just replace me like this.”
“Perhaps this discussion is better suited for a more private –“
Slade shook his head, interrupting the chief. “There is no need to pamper me, sir. If you want me out you can just say so.”
Masamune showed no signs of irritation. “Very well. The truth is I was not pleased at all at the way you handled the situation yesterday. But it is not the reason why I have asked Mech to take command. As you might all be aware by now we are facing bigger challenges than a local ring of stims dealers. Mech here brings a number of unique skills to the table which will become extremely useful to us. I had tried to recruit her before and she has now agreed to my request.”
Slade sill looked skeptical.
“Don’t be fooled by her appearance,” Masamune continued. “She has plenty of experience and we worked together previously in a very similar situation. And Slade, I asked you to join this team for a reason. Your background as a Starfleet officer and Marine make you invaluable to us, especially now. So I do understand if you wish to leave but I’d rather you stayed and helped us getting to the bottom of this.”
The room fell quiet as the first rays of the rising sun hit the windows. Most eyes were focused on Jackson Slade.
He sat down on the couch along the wall. “You’ll still need discipline in this team and the way I see it I’m the best person to provide it.”
Masamune nodded.
Tank shrugged his shoulders with indifference.
“But what about our case?” said Gavin. “We lost our best lead with Black. We’re back to square one.”
“Not necessarily,” Mech replied and removed a tiny green chip from her a pocket in her leather jacket. She placed it on the Masamune’s desk.
“What’s that?” asked the rookie.
Bobbie Case had quickly moved forward to inspect the chip. It contained a green liquid and appeared to be dented in a few places. “It’s a bio-neural memory chip like the ones used in the latest android models.”
“It’s from Black, isn’t it,” Tank said. “It’s his memory core. You lifted it just before Starfleet beamed away the body, you crafty little thing.”
Mech smiled. “Analyzing it should give us some more insights into the android’s movements.”
“It has been damaged,” said Bobbie Case after inspecting it closer. When she looked up again there was nothing but unbridled optimism sparkling in her large eyes. “But I’m sure we’re going to be able to squeeze some information out of it.” She turned to look at Eldex.
The Benzite nodded. “We should get on that right away.”
“Excellent,” said Masamune. “We’re also due to get some new equipment and I want everybody to familiarize themselves as soon as possible. That is all, people.”
With that the team members began to file out of the room. Mech hung behind a little bit, as if to avoid to be swept up by the others. Before she was able to slip out of the room however, Masamune called for her and she turned around to look at her mentor.
“I don’t want this to be like Nyuchiba. You have a team and I except you to work with it. I do not appreciate those solo heroics of yours.”
She gave him a sly grin. “You know I’ve never been much of a people person,” she said before slipping out of the room.
_ _ _ _
I'm glad to see the return of "Shadow Plays!" Looks like you've brought the team together, albeit with some personality conflicts. Whether or not Slade can handle answering to Mech remains to be seen.
A great start to Part II. Looking forward to more!
A great start to Part II. Looking forward to more!
Great to see this story return. Mech and Slade'll be an interesting team up. Lots of good character interactions and dynamics here. You've got my appetite whetted...
019 – “It’s Politics As Usual.”
“We greatly appreciate your continued support of our agenda. We are hopeful that by the end of the year we’ll be able to pass resolute legislation to ban cybernetic augmentation in all cases not involving the replacement of lost or damaged body parts or the rectification of birth defects.”
The dark skinned man sitting across from the bearded Efrosian didn’t reply.
“Support of our polices is growing amongst the general public, especially on worlds with prevalent religious societies such as Bajor, Saltok IV and Epsilon Canaris. I don’t think we have the votes in the Council yet but give me some time and I’m optimistic that we’ll be able to increase support.”
Kuntii’la was overlooking Paris while the leader of the Federation Council spoke. This wasn’t unusual by any means. Besides having the reputation of being a cunning politician and brilliant compromiser, Kuntii’la was also well known as a man who was able to follow seemingly dozens of different train of thoughts simultaneously.
“We have been able to keep Starfleet mostly free of any cyberoids and the response to our efforts has been positive.”
“Not from everyone,” he said it in his very slow, deliberate speech pattern.
Veltum Jarni looked up from his padd, startled by the response. “Some opposition is to be expected, Mister President.”
Kuntii’la turned to face the speaker. He nodded slowly. “I am not entirely comfortable with the course we have taken regarding this matter.”
Jarni looked confused, almost panicked at this revelation.
A raised hand from the president helped to calm him somewhat. “Don’t get me wrong. I agree that cybernization, if not checked, has the potential to run amuck and change the very basics of our society. But throughout history, attempts to ban new technologies and new ways of thinking have always been unsuccessful. And it shouldn’t be the role of the government to determine the course of society.”
The speaker carefully placed the padd onto the desk. “I would agree with you, Mister President, if we were talking about a natural occurring process. But this is not. This is not simply changing our society, it is changing ourselves by artificial means. The first step is cyberization. Replacing your limbs with artificial ones because the implants are stronger and more reliable. Then comes enhancing your brain so that we can link together and become a society of drones not unlike the Borg. And then what, I ask? After we lost all individuality what is not to say that we will become just like the Borg? What is not to say that this is exactly how they started out? Do you want us to become like them, roaming through the galaxy like merciless predators, ever expanding and destroying that which we deem inferior?”
President Kuntii’la glanced back towards the Paris skyline, still being dominated for hundreds of years by the unique design of the Eiffel tower, one of Earth’s greatest testaments to the fusion of science and individualism. “It is difficult to argue with a point based on hypotheses.”
“I tell you what is not an hypothesis but solid fact. I have learned from reliable sources that Starfleet has been looking into the option of utilizing full body androids for military operations.”
If Kuntii’la attempted to appear surprised he failed. Something in eyes revealed that he was fully aware of those rumors. “Starfleet already has androids.”
“Yes, one. And it – he – serves as an officer on a starship and is fully self-conscious. A court has ruled that he is in fact a sentient being. We have created a sentient being. Starfleet wants thousands just like him. Creating life from nothing, making them appear just like us. There will be no way to distinguish them from us.”
The president sighed. “This administration will continue to support any legislation limiting cybernization. Shall we move on to the next issue?”
“Certainly,” Jarni said and reached for his padd again. “Cardassian reconstruction.”
The president nodded. “A matter I am very dedicated to as you are aware.”
“Of course. And so am I. The Council has voted to increase resources being used for the reconstruction effort by fifteen percent. However we are now quickly reaching a point where we are unable to produce enough resources to meet the rising demand. What I would suggest –“
The doors to the presidential office opened and Trelu-Chi Sill entered in a hurry. He seemed upset. “Mister President, Mister Speaker I apologize for this intrusion but we have a situation unfolding I believe you should be made aware of immediately.”
The president showed no signs of irritation and simply nodded towards his adviser.
Sill on the other hand froze for a moment, shooting a quick glance at the president’s visitor.
“It is quite alright, Mister Sill, we do not keep secrets from the Council.”
Sill nodded and proceeded to the wall screen. “I have Admiral Tessier for you on the emergency channel.”
Both the president and the leader of the Council perked up. This could only mean bad news.
The face of the auburn-haired Starfleet officer appeared on the screen. Her bloodshot eyes and barely wrinkled skin, making her look slightly closer to her actual age than usual. “Mister President,” she began right away. “I regret to inform you that the USS Tripoli has been destroyed.”
“How?”
“We do not have all the information yet, but according to Nyuchiban security forces our ship was attacked by Asukan rebels, claiming sovereignty over the entire system. Initial estimates point to a complete loss with less than fifty survivors.”
The President was visibly shaken. “Of how many?”
“The Tripoli had a crew of seven hundred and eighty, sir.”
When nobody refused to break the silence that had ensued, Tessier continued. “We have assembled a task force just outside Nyuchiban territory which could arrive at Asuka III within a day.”
“A task force?” asked Sill. “How did you mange to assemble ships this quickly, Admiral?” Sill smiled but his voice was not without a hint of accusation.
Tessier noticed this. “As you may be aware, Mister Sill, the Nyuchiban Confederacy borders a number of territories hostile to the Federation which have actively supported piracy and border incursions into our territory. For the last few decades Nyuchiba has served as an essential buffer to our vulnerable colonies close to the border. But since the Asuka conflict their forces have not been able to protect their own borders and piracy has been on the upswing.”
The president did not miss the venom Tessier directed towards his advisor. “Admiral, nobody is disputing your intentions of protecting our borders. But I do not wish to make a hasty decisions at this time.”
“I understand, Mister President. But please allow me to move the task force to Asuka in order to investigate the destruction of the Tripoli and rescue the survivors.”
“If I may, Mister President,” said Jarni who had listen carefully to everything that had been said.
Kuntii’la nodded for him to proceed.
“Admiral, what ships are part of this task force?”
The admiral shot the speaker a surprised look, revealing for just a moment that she had not anticipated this question. She glanced off the screen for a second. “The Sutherland is the lead vessel. Then there is Eagle, Independence and –“
“I’m sorry, Admiral, I didn’t make myself clear,” Jarni interrupted. “What I meant to ask was, what kind of ships are part of this task force? Do you have for example any battleships, hospital ships, transports and so forth?”
Tessier didn’t appear to like the direction this line of questioning was taking. “Sir, with respect, Starfleet does not have battleships.”
Jarni smiled. “My apologies, Admiral. I am not overly familiar with starship terminology.”
“We have two heavy cruisers, three frigates, two escorts and four transport vessels,” the admiral explained with forced patience.
“That appears to be a very large number of transport ships to rescue fifty survivors,” Jarni said.
The admiral didn’t respond right away. The cunning politician had maneuvered her into a position she had tried to avoid. She considered her answer carefully. “The transports have other functions.”
“Would you mind elaborating, Admiral?” asked Sill. His smile was widening almost as if he took comfort in the knowledge that the admiral had been found out.
“They carry marines,” she said. But then quickly added. “A standard procedure in this kind of situation. After all a large number of the survivors might have fallen prisoner to the enemy. We require sufficient troops to carry out effective rescue measures.”
The president had heard enough. “Admiral, you may dispatch one of your cruisers to Asuka III. Keep the marines on station and the rest of the task force to secure the border.”
Tessier was not pleased at this concession but did her best to hide it. She wasn’t all too successful. “Understood. Thank you, Mister President. Tessier out.”
Her image vanished from the screen.
“Mister Speaker, I’m certain you understand that given these developments our meeting will have to be postponed.”
Jarni nodded and stood. “Of course. I would just like to stress that you can depend on the Council to stand behind you in this crisis. But please also consider that the prevailing notion is that Federation resources are stretched to a breaking point already. Another crisis might evaporate the support of key members of the Council.”
“Mister Speaker, I appreciate your advice as always.”
“Thank you, Mister President,” he said and quickly strode out of the office.
As soon as the doors had closed behind him Sill turned to face Kuntii’la. “Why did that sound like a threat to me?”
“The Council wants us to leave Nyuchiba alone, it is not a secret.”
The advisor approached the desk. “We might not have that luxury. Not only is the Nyuchiba one of our most important trade partners, we might also be bound by treaty to assist them with any crisis they ask us for help with.”
The president rubbed his temples. “If Starfleet had its way we’d invade Asuka III within a few weeks. If we leave it to the Council we turn our back to our most important ally in the sector.”
The Andorian smiled. “They call you the Compromiser for a reason, sir.”
The grin on the President’s lips was so small it hardly looked like a grin at all. Then it was gone completely. “I want this crisis resolved as quickly as possible. We have too much to worry about to be distracted by this. Advise the Diplomatic Corps to make this their top priority and step up their efforts to find a solution. Have them dispatch more mediators if necessary. “
“That might work in the long run but what do we do about the escalating violence on Asuka III?”
“We’ll have to increase support of the Confederacy. Supply them with more resources and equipment in order to pacify Asuka themselves.”
The president noticed his advisor’s skeptical eyes. “It will have to work.”
Sill nodded and headed for the exit. He stopped short of leaving. “Mister President, we cannot afford to lose Asuka III.”
“You’re beginning to sound like Tessier.”
“I hate to be the one to point it out, sir, but this situation could seriously damage your bid for re-election next year.”
“I refuse to have my polices guided by what is best for my campaign,” said the president, only slightly masking his anger.
“You took office with the promise to create a stable and peaceful Alpha Quadrant and we are well on our way to realize those ambitions. The reconstruction of Cardassia, renewed diplomatic ties with the Tzenkethi and Alshain and stable peace and trade treaties with the Gorn and the Tholians are all key elements of this plan which are now at their most critical stages. They require widespread support or we risk the collapse of our entire agenda. And as you know most of your political opponents are waiting for exactly that to happen. If they took office the Federation would reverse course on most if not all those initiatives.”
“Are you suggestion my legacy is at stake?”
“Mister President,” Sill said. “What I am suggesting is that if we lose Nyuchiba, we might lose our best hope for lasting peace in the Alpha Quadrant.”
“We greatly appreciate your continued support of our agenda. We are hopeful that by the end of the year we’ll be able to pass resolute legislation to ban cybernetic augmentation in all cases not involving the replacement of lost or damaged body parts or the rectification of birth defects.”
The dark skinned man sitting across from the bearded Efrosian didn’t reply.
“Support of our polices is growing amongst the general public, especially on worlds with prevalent religious societies such as Bajor, Saltok IV and Epsilon Canaris. I don’t think we have the votes in the Council yet but give me some time and I’m optimistic that we’ll be able to increase support.”
Kuntii’la was overlooking Paris while the leader of the Federation Council spoke. This wasn’t unusual by any means. Besides having the reputation of being a cunning politician and brilliant compromiser, Kuntii’la was also well known as a man who was able to follow seemingly dozens of different train of thoughts simultaneously.
“We have been able to keep Starfleet mostly free of any cyberoids and the response to our efforts has been positive.”
“Not from everyone,” he said it in his very slow, deliberate speech pattern.
Veltum Jarni looked up from his padd, startled by the response. “Some opposition is to be expected, Mister President.”
Kuntii’la turned to face the speaker. He nodded slowly. “I am not entirely comfortable with the course we have taken regarding this matter.”
Jarni looked confused, almost panicked at this revelation.
A raised hand from the president helped to calm him somewhat. “Don’t get me wrong. I agree that cybernization, if not checked, has the potential to run amuck and change the very basics of our society. But throughout history, attempts to ban new technologies and new ways of thinking have always been unsuccessful. And it shouldn’t be the role of the government to determine the course of society.”
The speaker carefully placed the padd onto the desk. “I would agree with you, Mister President, if we were talking about a natural occurring process. But this is not. This is not simply changing our society, it is changing ourselves by artificial means. The first step is cyberization. Replacing your limbs with artificial ones because the implants are stronger and more reliable. Then comes enhancing your brain so that we can link together and become a society of drones not unlike the Borg. And then what, I ask? After we lost all individuality what is not to say that we will become just like the Borg? What is not to say that this is exactly how they started out? Do you want us to become like them, roaming through the galaxy like merciless predators, ever expanding and destroying that which we deem inferior?”
President Kuntii’la glanced back towards the Paris skyline, still being dominated for hundreds of years by the unique design of the Eiffel tower, one of Earth’s greatest testaments to the fusion of science and individualism. “It is difficult to argue with a point based on hypotheses.”
“I tell you what is not an hypothesis but solid fact. I have learned from reliable sources that Starfleet has been looking into the option of utilizing full body androids for military operations.”
If Kuntii’la attempted to appear surprised he failed. Something in eyes revealed that he was fully aware of those rumors. “Starfleet already has androids.”
“Yes, one. And it – he – serves as an officer on a starship and is fully self-conscious. A court has ruled that he is in fact a sentient being. We have created a sentient being. Starfleet wants thousands just like him. Creating life from nothing, making them appear just like us. There will be no way to distinguish them from us.”
The president sighed. “This administration will continue to support any legislation limiting cybernization. Shall we move on to the next issue?”
“Certainly,” Jarni said and reached for his padd again. “Cardassian reconstruction.”
The president nodded. “A matter I am very dedicated to as you are aware.”
“Of course. And so am I. The Council has voted to increase resources being used for the reconstruction effort by fifteen percent. However we are now quickly reaching a point where we are unable to produce enough resources to meet the rising demand. What I would suggest –“
The doors to the presidential office opened and Trelu-Chi Sill entered in a hurry. He seemed upset. “Mister President, Mister Speaker I apologize for this intrusion but we have a situation unfolding I believe you should be made aware of immediately.”
The president showed no signs of irritation and simply nodded towards his adviser.
Sill on the other hand froze for a moment, shooting a quick glance at the president’s visitor.
“It is quite alright, Mister Sill, we do not keep secrets from the Council.”
Sill nodded and proceeded to the wall screen. “I have Admiral Tessier for you on the emergency channel.”
Both the president and the leader of the Council perked up. This could only mean bad news.
The face of the auburn-haired Starfleet officer appeared on the screen. Her bloodshot eyes and barely wrinkled skin, making her look slightly closer to her actual age than usual. “Mister President,” she began right away. “I regret to inform you that the USS Tripoli has been destroyed.”
“How?”
“We do not have all the information yet, but according to Nyuchiban security forces our ship was attacked by Asukan rebels, claiming sovereignty over the entire system. Initial estimates point to a complete loss with less than fifty survivors.”
The President was visibly shaken. “Of how many?”
“The Tripoli had a crew of seven hundred and eighty, sir.”
When nobody refused to break the silence that had ensued, Tessier continued. “We have assembled a task force just outside Nyuchiban territory which could arrive at Asuka III within a day.”
“A task force?” asked Sill. “How did you mange to assemble ships this quickly, Admiral?” Sill smiled but his voice was not without a hint of accusation.
Tessier noticed this. “As you may be aware, Mister Sill, the Nyuchiban Confederacy borders a number of territories hostile to the Federation which have actively supported piracy and border incursions into our territory. For the last few decades Nyuchiba has served as an essential buffer to our vulnerable colonies close to the border. But since the Asuka conflict their forces have not been able to protect their own borders and piracy has been on the upswing.”
The president did not miss the venom Tessier directed towards his advisor. “Admiral, nobody is disputing your intentions of protecting our borders. But I do not wish to make a hasty decisions at this time.”
“I understand, Mister President. But please allow me to move the task force to Asuka in order to investigate the destruction of the Tripoli and rescue the survivors.”
“If I may, Mister President,” said Jarni who had listen carefully to everything that had been said.
Kuntii’la nodded for him to proceed.
“Admiral, what ships are part of this task force?”
The admiral shot the speaker a surprised look, revealing for just a moment that she had not anticipated this question. She glanced off the screen for a second. “The Sutherland is the lead vessel. Then there is Eagle, Independence and –“
“I’m sorry, Admiral, I didn’t make myself clear,” Jarni interrupted. “What I meant to ask was, what kind of ships are part of this task force? Do you have for example any battleships, hospital ships, transports and so forth?”
Tessier didn’t appear to like the direction this line of questioning was taking. “Sir, with respect, Starfleet does not have battleships.”
Jarni smiled. “My apologies, Admiral. I am not overly familiar with starship terminology.”
“We have two heavy cruisers, three frigates, two escorts and four transport vessels,” the admiral explained with forced patience.
“That appears to be a very large number of transport ships to rescue fifty survivors,” Jarni said.
The admiral didn’t respond right away. The cunning politician had maneuvered her into a position she had tried to avoid. She considered her answer carefully. “The transports have other functions.”
“Would you mind elaborating, Admiral?” asked Sill. His smile was widening almost as if he took comfort in the knowledge that the admiral had been found out.
“They carry marines,” she said. But then quickly added. “A standard procedure in this kind of situation. After all a large number of the survivors might have fallen prisoner to the enemy. We require sufficient troops to carry out effective rescue measures.”
The president had heard enough. “Admiral, you may dispatch one of your cruisers to Asuka III. Keep the marines on station and the rest of the task force to secure the border.”
Tessier was not pleased at this concession but did her best to hide it. She wasn’t all too successful. “Understood. Thank you, Mister President. Tessier out.”
Her image vanished from the screen.
“Mister Speaker, I’m certain you understand that given these developments our meeting will have to be postponed.”
Jarni nodded and stood. “Of course. I would just like to stress that you can depend on the Council to stand behind you in this crisis. But please also consider that the prevailing notion is that Federation resources are stretched to a breaking point already. Another crisis might evaporate the support of key members of the Council.”
“Mister Speaker, I appreciate your advice as always.”
“Thank you, Mister President,” he said and quickly strode out of the office.
As soon as the doors had closed behind him Sill turned to face Kuntii’la. “Why did that sound like a threat to me?”
“The Council wants us to leave Nyuchiba alone, it is not a secret.”
The advisor approached the desk. “We might not have that luxury. Not only is the Nyuchiba one of our most important trade partners, we might also be bound by treaty to assist them with any crisis they ask us for help with.”
The president rubbed his temples. “If Starfleet had its way we’d invade Asuka III within a few weeks. If we leave it to the Council we turn our back to our most important ally in the sector.”
The Andorian smiled. “They call you the Compromiser for a reason, sir.”
The grin on the President’s lips was so small it hardly looked like a grin at all. Then it was gone completely. “I want this crisis resolved as quickly as possible. We have too much to worry about to be distracted by this. Advise the Diplomatic Corps to make this their top priority and step up their efforts to find a solution. Have them dispatch more mediators if necessary. “
“That might work in the long run but what do we do about the escalating violence on Asuka III?”
“We’ll have to increase support of the Confederacy. Supply them with more resources and equipment in order to pacify Asuka themselves.”
The president noticed his advisor’s skeptical eyes. “It will have to work.”
Sill nodded and headed for the exit. He stopped short of leaving. “Mister President, we cannot afford to lose Asuka III.”
“You’re beginning to sound like Tessier.”
“I hate to be the one to point it out, sir, but this situation could seriously damage your bid for re-election next year.”
“I refuse to have my polices guided by what is best for my campaign,” said the president, only slightly masking his anger.
“You took office with the promise to create a stable and peaceful Alpha Quadrant and we are well on our way to realize those ambitions. The reconstruction of Cardassia, renewed diplomatic ties with the Tzenkethi and Alshain and stable peace and trade treaties with the Gorn and the Tholians are all key elements of this plan which are now at their most critical stages. They require widespread support or we risk the collapse of our entire agenda. And as you know most of your political opponents are waiting for exactly that to happen. If they took office the Federation would reverse course on most if not all those initiatives.”
“Are you suggestion my legacy is at stake?”
“Mister President,” Sill said. “What I am suggesting is that if we lose Nyuchiba, we might lose our best hope for lasting peace in the Alpha Quadrant.”
_ _ _ _
Nice bit of political background here--cybernetics, Nyuchiba, and other events all coalescing.
I thought this was a particularly well-written, thoughtful segment. It was interesting to see the political machinations - all which rung true.
This story continues to evolve and pique my interest. Great work!
This story continues to evolve and pique my interest. Great work!
020 – “We Need Guns. Lots of Guns.”
“As some of you have undoubtedly noticed MSD’s standard issue weapon, the Fletcher 88 Enforcer is rather ineffective against heavily cybernized targets.”
“Try useless,” said Tank and was quickly seconded by Gavin.
Bobbie Case nodded. “That’s because cybernetic bodies can be configured to absorb a great amount of the energy discharged by conventional beam weapons.”
“So what do we use against them?” Slade asked Sly Martinez who had asked all the members of the team to assemble in the training room, a large holo-suit located at the very center of the building. It was painted in dull green tones but otherwise the large space was mostly kept empty.
Silvestre Martinez, the Mexican born weapons and equipment expert had a small twinkle in his eyes. “Well, androids and cybernetically enhanced persons are still relatively new on Earth, however in other parts of the galaxy they have been much more common for almost a hundred years or so. On Nyuchiba for example one of out every five persons has been cybernized.”
“Nyuchiba? Isn’t that where you’re from?” asked Gavin and looked at Mech who stood a few feet apart from the rest of the team, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed in front of her.
Her only response was a short nod.
“And so is the chief,” said Sly. “He’s used some of his contacts to get us some new equipment,” he added and turned to a table that stood behind him. He picked up a silver and black, pistol shaped weapon. It looked heavier and more imposing than the Enforcer. “This is a Seburo Super Seven Highpower. Like the LT’s weapon it fires duranium laced bullets which are certain to penetrate any cybernetic body.”
Case stepped forward and Sly handed her the weapon.
“Bobbie here has volunteered to demonstrate.”
“No offense,” said Tank, “but are you sure that’s a good ideas? I mean she’s a cybernetics expert and not –“ he stopped himself when he caught the fiery look in the young woman’s eyes.
“Just so you know,” she said and turned away, “I’ve undergone Starfleet certified advanced weapons training. I think I can handle this.”
Tank shrugged.
Sly’s lips cracked for a small smile. “Computer, load target practice one.”
A faceless humanoid shaped drone appeared out of thin air just about ten meters from Bobbie Case and the rest of the team.
“Now the first thing you need to know about these weapons is that they all possess a full man-machine interface,” explained Sly.
“What exactly does that mean?” asked Gavin, not sounding too enthused.
“This.”
A holographic imagine appeared a few feet above Case’s head. It was an exact reproduction of Bobbie’s field of vision. When the blonde woman took the Super Seven into both hands and aimed at the drone a yellow head-up display appeared super-imposed over her vision. It featured a target rectangle focused on the head of the lifeless drone, displaying some basic target information, including range and speed.
The lower right corner of the screen showed information about the weapon such as the remaining ammunition.
“This image will be superimposed over your vision by your enhancers every time you draw your weapon,” said Sly and upon noticing Gavin’s frown he added. “It’s optional and you can tell your enhancer not to. But having this up will give you greater accuracy when using your weapon not to mention information on your target and weapon. Trust me after you’ve gotten used to it you will not want to shoot without it. Bobbie, please proceed.”
She gave him a curt nod and then focused in on her target again. On the image above her, the target rectangle flashed red. She slightly squeezed the trigger and the gun fired.
The three bullets perforated the drone’s head easily.
Tank and the other team members showed obvious surprise at her accuracy. She responded with a beaming smile. “And I don’t need my enhancer to do that,” she said.
“The magazine holds 25 bullets,” said Sly. “It can fire up to five rounds a seconds in full automatic mode. It’s effective range is about 500 meters, it has almost no recoil at all and is the most accurate projectile handheld firearm ever built.”
“That all sounds very fascinating,” said Gavin. “But what if we have to stop somebody who isn’t cybernized? With something like this we’re going to blow their flesh and blood bodies apart.”
“Excellent question,” said Sly. “Bobbie?”
She nodded. “Computer, target program 2b.”
The demolished drone disappeared to be replaced by a very similar figure which looked like an animated mannequin, covered from head to toe in pink skin.
Bobbie took aim again – the rectangle now a green color – and this time the weapon fired a crimson bolt of energy. The mannequin was hit square in the chest and immediately collapsed.
“The Super Seven also has a stun setting. It will work on most humanoids and is similar in strength to setting two on a standard phaser. The power cell in the magazine will allow for up to 75 stun blasts. If your target doesn’t fall right away just keep firing. Even a Klingon should succumb after being hit repeatedly.”
“Not bad,” said Slade.
But Sly wasn’t done yet. “Now, let’s move on to the heavy equipment,” he said, the twinkle in his eyes even brighter now. He picked up a rifle roughly two feet long and very compactly designed. It featured a very short and small barrel at the font and a smooth, black exterior.
Bobbie took it eagerly. In her hands it looked a whole lot less compact.
Tank was about to speak up again but a quick elbow shove by Gavin made him reconsider.
“The Seburo TJ-7 is our new heavy duty, all-purpose assault weapon. If you are a weapons aficionado you might recognize the design. It is based on the P90 submachine gun popular in the 21st century on Earth. But the design is about the only thing it has in common with that relic.”
Bobbie held up the weapon for everyone to get a good look at it. The heads-up display above her changed to show the new weapon being wielded.
“This is the first ever projectile weapon designed with a high-speed replicator which can produce up to 30 duranium laced bullets per second. It can fire up to 15 of those per second,” said Sly.
“Computer, run target program 3a.”
No sooner had Boobie given the order, a dozen of metallic drones appeared.
She took aim at the first by using the laser sight and fired a short burst. The drone was demolished in seconds. She moved to the next one to deliver the same destructive force. With apparent glee she mowed down one target after the other.
“The preferred firing option is the burst mode. It can also fire single shots or full automatic. The power cell can produce up 200 bullets before it is exhausted. Bobbie, show’em our favorite mode.”
She nodded eagerly, inputted a command into the small access panel imbedded in the weapon’s body and took aim at one of the few remaining targets. The barrel slowly rotated and increased the caliber.
Bobbie squeezed the trigger and what appeared to be a missile shot out of the rifle. An ear shattering explosion tore the drone apart.
Half the team members jumped or ducked, being taken completely by surprise by the noise and destruction. Mech hardly even flinched.
A few upset glances were shot towards Sly.
He ignored them. “That’s the 23 caliber grenade launcher. The TJ-7 can fire up to ten of those. But I suggest to use them sparingly as they seriously drain the power cell.”
“Yeah, I think they would,” said Gavin, still trying to get the ringing out of his ears.
“Does this monster come with a stun setting too?” asked Slade, the up until recent team-leader.
Sly nodded. “Of course,” he said and indicated towards Bobbie.
She ordered another mannequin, changed the settings once more, causing the barrel to rotate to a much smaller caliber again and took aim.
She pressed the trigger but nothing happened.
The display flickered a few times then disappeared only to completely reboot, showing the text: Thank you for choosing Seburo Firearms, Nyuchiba’s weapon of choice.
Bobbie quickly checked her settings. “Hang on,” she said and then tried again. A thin crimson colored beam shot out but then abruptly discontinued. The mannequin hardly even moved on impact.
System error #4323-47-B. Please consult your technical manual or contact your Seburo dealer.
“That’s going to be real useful,” said Tank.
“I don’t understand, the settings are right,” said Bobbie and checked her weapon again. Sly joined her but didn’t seem to be able to find anything wrong either. “I should point out that these weapons are still prototypes, so they might have a few bugs. Hopefully we’ll be able to iron them out over time.”
“Hold on, your saying we’re going to go out there with prototypes?” asked Gavin, sounding very concerned now. “What if those things blow up in our hands?”
Sly smirked. “Not to worry, we’ve got a full five year warranty on all the weapons.”
“I’m worried about my hands, not the damned weapons.”
Tank clasped him on the back. “Maybe it’s time to get some cybernetic ones then,” he said with a smile and grasped air with his own huge hands.
“No thanks, I kind of like the ones I’ve got.”
“Listen, they’re not going to blow up on you. But for the time being I suggest you use the Super Seven if you want to stun somebody. And please be careful with these. We only have a very limited supply and we’re practically the only ones who use them. Neither Starfleet nor the UEDA have access to these.”
“I feel better already,” mumbled Gavin.
Sly began to hand out the weapons. Mech refused the Super Seven. “I’ll stick to my Glock.”
Sly gave her a puzzled look.
“It’s a sentimental thing,” Tank was quick to explain.
“Alright people, make sure you get your gear. I don’t want you to start shooting at anything or anyone until you’ve familiarized yourselves with your weapons. The last thing we need is somebody taking off somebody else’s head by mistake. Everybody is to take at least ten hours training with the new weapons every week. We’ll start right now,” said Slade but then stopped himself before continuing. He wasn’t team leader any more. Slade looked at Mech.
She nodded to him. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”
“As some of you have undoubtedly noticed MSD’s standard issue weapon, the Fletcher 88 Enforcer is rather ineffective against heavily cybernized targets.”
“Try useless,” said Tank and was quickly seconded by Gavin.
Bobbie Case nodded. “That’s because cybernetic bodies can be configured to absorb a great amount of the energy discharged by conventional beam weapons.”
“So what do we use against them?” Slade asked Sly Martinez who had asked all the members of the team to assemble in the training room, a large holo-suit located at the very center of the building. It was painted in dull green tones but otherwise the large space was mostly kept empty.
Silvestre Martinez, the Mexican born weapons and equipment expert had a small twinkle in his eyes. “Well, androids and cybernetically enhanced persons are still relatively new on Earth, however in other parts of the galaxy they have been much more common for almost a hundred years or so. On Nyuchiba for example one of out every five persons has been cybernized.”
“Nyuchiba? Isn’t that where you’re from?” asked Gavin and looked at Mech who stood a few feet apart from the rest of the team, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed in front of her.
Her only response was a short nod.
“And so is the chief,” said Sly. “He’s used some of his contacts to get us some new equipment,” he added and turned to a table that stood behind him. He picked up a silver and black, pistol shaped weapon. It looked heavier and more imposing than the Enforcer. “This is a Seburo Super Seven Highpower. Like the LT’s weapon it fires duranium laced bullets which are certain to penetrate any cybernetic body.”
Case stepped forward and Sly handed her the weapon.
“Bobbie here has volunteered to demonstrate.”
“No offense,” said Tank, “but are you sure that’s a good ideas? I mean she’s a cybernetics expert and not –“ he stopped himself when he caught the fiery look in the young woman’s eyes.
“Just so you know,” she said and turned away, “I’ve undergone Starfleet certified advanced weapons training. I think I can handle this.”
Tank shrugged.
Sly’s lips cracked for a small smile. “Computer, load target practice one.”
A faceless humanoid shaped drone appeared out of thin air just about ten meters from Bobbie Case and the rest of the team.
“Now the first thing you need to know about these weapons is that they all possess a full man-machine interface,” explained Sly.
“What exactly does that mean?” asked Gavin, not sounding too enthused.
“This.”
A holographic imagine appeared a few feet above Case’s head. It was an exact reproduction of Bobbie’s field of vision. When the blonde woman took the Super Seven into both hands and aimed at the drone a yellow head-up display appeared super-imposed over her vision. It featured a target rectangle focused on the head of the lifeless drone, displaying some basic target information, including range and speed.
The lower right corner of the screen showed information about the weapon such as the remaining ammunition.
“This image will be superimposed over your vision by your enhancers every time you draw your weapon,” said Sly and upon noticing Gavin’s frown he added. “It’s optional and you can tell your enhancer not to. But having this up will give you greater accuracy when using your weapon not to mention information on your target and weapon. Trust me after you’ve gotten used to it you will not want to shoot without it. Bobbie, please proceed.”
She gave him a curt nod and then focused in on her target again. On the image above her, the target rectangle flashed red. She slightly squeezed the trigger and the gun fired.
The three bullets perforated the drone’s head easily.
Tank and the other team members showed obvious surprise at her accuracy. She responded with a beaming smile. “And I don’t need my enhancer to do that,” she said.
“The magazine holds 25 bullets,” said Sly. “It can fire up to five rounds a seconds in full automatic mode. It’s effective range is about 500 meters, it has almost no recoil at all and is the most accurate projectile handheld firearm ever built.”
“That all sounds very fascinating,” said Gavin. “But what if we have to stop somebody who isn’t cybernized? With something like this we’re going to blow their flesh and blood bodies apart.”
“Excellent question,” said Sly. “Bobbie?”
She nodded. “Computer, target program 2b.”
The demolished drone disappeared to be replaced by a very similar figure which looked like an animated mannequin, covered from head to toe in pink skin.
Bobbie took aim again – the rectangle now a green color – and this time the weapon fired a crimson bolt of energy. The mannequin was hit square in the chest and immediately collapsed.
“The Super Seven also has a stun setting. It will work on most humanoids and is similar in strength to setting two on a standard phaser. The power cell in the magazine will allow for up to 75 stun blasts. If your target doesn’t fall right away just keep firing. Even a Klingon should succumb after being hit repeatedly.”
“Not bad,” said Slade.
But Sly wasn’t done yet. “Now, let’s move on to the heavy equipment,” he said, the twinkle in his eyes even brighter now. He picked up a rifle roughly two feet long and very compactly designed. It featured a very short and small barrel at the font and a smooth, black exterior.
Bobbie took it eagerly. In her hands it looked a whole lot less compact.
Tank was about to speak up again but a quick elbow shove by Gavin made him reconsider.
“The Seburo TJ-7 is our new heavy duty, all-purpose assault weapon. If you are a weapons aficionado you might recognize the design. It is based on the P90 submachine gun popular in the 21st century on Earth. But the design is about the only thing it has in common with that relic.”
Bobbie held up the weapon for everyone to get a good look at it. The heads-up display above her changed to show the new weapon being wielded.
“This is the first ever projectile weapon designed with a high-speed replicator which can produce up to 30 duranium laced bullets per second. It can fire up to 15 of those per second,” said Sly.
“Computer, run target program 3a.”
No sooner had Boobie given the order, a dozen of metallic drones appeared.
She took aim at the first by using the laser sight and fired a short burst. The drone was demolished in seconds. She moved to the next one to deliver the same destructive force. With apparent glee she mowed down one target after the other.
“The preferred firing option is the burst mode. It can also fire single shots or full automatic. The power cell can produce up 200 bullets before it is exhausted. Bobbie, show’em our favorite mode.”
She nodded eagerly, inputted a command into the small access panel imbedded in the weapon’s body and took aim at one of the few remaining targets. The barrel slowly rotated and increased the caliber.
Bobbie squeezed the trigger and what appeared to be a missile shot out of the rifle. An ear shattering explosion tore the drone apart.
Half the team members jumped or ducked, being taken completely by surprise by the noise and destruction. Mech hardly even flinched.
A few upset glances were shot towards Sly.
He ignored them. “That’s the 23 caliber grenade launcher. The TJ-7 can fire up to ten of those. But I suggest to use them sparingly as they seriously drain the power cell.”
“Yeah, I think they would,” said Gavin, still trying to get the ringing out of his ears.
“Does this monster come with a stun setting too?” asked Slade, the up until recent team-leader.
Sly nodded. “Of course,” he said and indicated towards Bobbie.
She ordered another mannequin, changed the settings once more, causing the barrel to rotate to a much smaller caliber again and took aim.
She pressed the trigger but nothing happened.
The display flickered a few times then disappeared only to completely reboot, showing the text: Thank you for choosing Seburo Firearms, Nyuchiba’s weapon of choice.
Bobbie quickly checked her settings. “Hang on,” she said and then tried again. A thin crimson colored beam shot out but then abruptly discontinued. The mannequin hardly even moved on impact.
System error #4323-47-B. Please consult your technical manual or contact your Seburo dealer.
“That’s going to be real useful,” said Tank.
“I don’t understand, the settings are right,” said Bobbie and checked her weapon again. Sly joined her but didn’t seem to be able to find anything wrong either. “I should point out that these weapons are still prototypes, so they might have a few bugs. Hopefully we’ll be able to iron them out over time.”
“Hold on, your saying we’re going to go out there with prototypes?” asked Gavin, sounding very concerned now. “What if those things blow up in our hands?”
Sly smirked. “Not to worry, we’ve got a full five year warranty on all the weapons.”
“I’m worried about my hands, not the damned weapons.”
Tank clasped him on the back. “Maybe it’s time to get some cybernetic ones then,” he said with a smile and grasped air with his own huge hands.
“No thanks, I kind of like the ones I’ve got.”
“Listen, they’re not going to blow up on you. But for the time being I suggest you use the Super Seven if you want to stun somebody. And please be careful with these. We only have a very limited supply and we’re practically the only ones who use them. Neither Starfleet nor the UEDA have access to these.”
“I feel better already,” mumbled Gavin.
Sly began to hand out the weapons. Mech refused the Super Seven. “I’ll stick to my Glock.”
Sly gave her a puzzled look.
“It’s a sentimental thing,” Tank was quick to explain.
“Alright people, make sure you get your gear. I don’t want you to start shooting at anything or anyone until you’ve familiarized yourselves with your weapons. The last thing we need is somebody taking off somebody else’s head by mistake. Everybody is to take at least ten hours training with the new weapons every week. We’ll start right now,” said Slade but then stopped himself before continuing. He wasn’t team leader any more. Slade looked at Mech.
She nodded to him. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”
_ _ _ _
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Some nasty projectile weapons you've got here. But then, that makes sense--with Trek technology projectile weapons can be especially effective killing tools--in many ways, better than energy weapons.
Also, I liked the last bit, Mech handled that very well--it might not seem like much, but it tells Slade that she respects him and is not trying to take away his dignity. Little gestures like that pay big dividends down the road.
Also, I liked the last bit, Mech handled that very well--it might not seem like much, but it tells Slade that she respects him and is not trying to take away his dignity. Little gestures like that pay big dividends down the road.
"Peace through superior firepower." 
Nice Treknology applications to projectile weapons - very plausible. The glitch was a nice touch, too!
Nice Treknology applications to projectile weapons - very plausible. The glitch was a nice touch, too!
021 – “She’s Hearing Voices But She Ain’t Crazy.”
<Unofficial sources in Starfleet report that the destruction of the starship Tripoli at Asuka III was a carefully planned attack by Nyuchiban rebels who have taken control of most of the planet’s surface. Starfleet Commander-in-Chief Admiral Quinzeros denied any rumors that a fleet of Federation ships close to the Nyuchiban border has been assembled as a precursor to a military invasion of Asuka III. A spokesperson for the administration has reaffirmed that President Kuntii’la will continue to pursue all diplomatic avenues available in order to bring a peaceful end to the rising sectarian violence on the Nyuchiban colony.
A recent poll conducted by FNS shows that 53 percent of Federation citizens support a diplomatic solution while 39 percent believe that a military response is required. This number is up five percent from last week and before the destruction of the Tripoli. The strongest support for military action is coming from Earth’s Asian continent where many see the nikkeijin – as the citizens of Nyuchiba are known – as close relatives.
Members of the UE General Assembly have also spoken out for a swift resolution of the crisis and have not ruled out their support for military intervention if -- >
Gavin looked at the woman occupying the passenger seat of the hover. “What do you think of what is happening on Nyuchiba? As a former resident I mean.”
“I try not to,” Mech replied.
“It’s rare to find somebody without an opinion these days.”
“I suppose.”
If Gavin had tried to strike up a conversation with his new team leader he had been utterly unsuccessful. Mech simply pushed a few strains of black hair out of her face and looked out of the window again.
“Say, you don’t talk much, do you?”
Unbeknownst to the young agent, Mech was concentrating on an entirely different conversation. <I had a look at the data you send me from the memory chip and I gotta say your people were surprisingly apt at extracting information from it. Wouldn’t have expected that from your little law enforcement outfit.>
Mech’s lips curled up into a small smile. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Well if you put it that way, I don’t know. I just thought something along the lines of breaking the ice.”
“Small talk?”
<Can I assume from your self-satisfied tone, Trigger, that you found something we’ve overlooked?”>
He nodded. “Sure.”
“I don’t do small talk.”
“Right.”
<Well they wouldn’t call me the second greatest hacker in the history of FedNet if I hadn’t,> he replied. <It was pretty hard to find as it was in the damaged part of the chip but I’ve got the company that created the hardware. After crosschecking FedNet I’m pretty sure it’s a bogus firm but I found a well hidden link to a warehouse location right in San Francisco.>
Gavin was not yet ready to give up. He didn’t let the presumed silence settle for too long. “You think we’ll be able to find something?”
She reached into her jacket to retrieve the greenish data chip.
“Bobbie and Travin managed to extract enough information to give us a number of potential locations our suspect might have visited within the last 72 hours,” said Gavin when he noticed the memory unit. “But here we are, following an entirely different lead.”
<Location?>
<Well ahead of you, darling. I’ve accessed your vehicle’s computer and entered the new destination.>
The hover made a sudden sharp turn, catching Gavin by complete surprise. “What the hell.”
“Relax,” Mech said.
“This is your doing?”
Mech closed her fist around the chip. “I want to know who is behind this piece of hardware. It is pretty impressive.”
“Alright, so where are you taking us?”
<Trigger?>
<An old shipyard in a place called Hunters Point. I’m uploading everything I found to you now. I’m afraid I can’t stay and chat. I do have other clients, you know.>
<Without doubt. Just stay away from those who are trying retire you permanently.>
<You should worry about your own artificial skin. Much bigger fish are after you,> he said and signed off.
“Hunters Point?” asked Gavin when he noticed the direction they had taken.
Mech nodded. “The old shipyards.”
A few minutes later the hover slowed down as it was approaching its preprogrammed destination. It was the late evening, after dark, and the entire area made a rather deserted impression. The vehicles powerful headlights revealed nothing but rows of old cranes and warehouses.
“And what makes you think we’ll find the supplier here?” asked Gavin as he strained his eyes to find anything that could rouse suspicion.
“I have a reliable source.”
He shot her a quick look. “Not something you would want to share, I take it.”
The hover stopped and Mech deactivated the lights, drowning them into darkness.
“A girl’s gotta have secrets,” she said with a wink and stepped out of the hover.
He got out after her and then followed his new boss as she quickly made her way down the narrow alleyways between the tall storage buildings.
It was already almost pitch dark but Mech – the LT – moved with determined purpose.
Cybernetic eyes, Gavin thought. He had to rely on his real pair but managed to stick close to the young woman. When she reached for her Glock he followed suit and drew his Seburo Super Seven. He’d had training with it but the projectile weapon still felt odd in his hand. It was heavier than the weapon he had been used to and required two hands in order to take a steady aim.
Mech stopped so suddenly he nearly ran right into her back.
She pointed at a tiny computer panel next to a well disguised door.
Gavin nodded. He hated doing this but he was not the type to complain to somebody he hardly even knew. He withdrew two dataports, fixed one to the side of his neck and the other right onto the computer terminal.
He was surprised at what he found. <That’s a level five firewall. What do they keep in here, the crown jewels?>
<Can you get passed it?>
<Sure, I guess but It’ll take a while,> he replied and went to work.
A bright green light flashed in front of his virtual vision and for a moment he lost sight of the firewall he was attempting to hack. He wasn’t exactly sure but he thought he could make out the feint outline of a purple haired woman.
He logged out and found that the door had opened already.
He threw Mech a surprised glance. She smiled and removed a dataport from her own neck.
“Damn your good. No wonder the old man wanted you on our side.”
Mech smartly slid back the barrel of her Glock to ensure a duranium bullet sat in the chamber and then stepped into the open door.
Gavin dove in after her.
<Unofficial sources in Starfleet report that the destruction of the starship Tripoli at Asuka III was a carefully planned attack by Nyuchiban rebels who have taken control of most of the planet’s surface. Starfleet Commander-in-Chief Admiral Quinzeros denied any rumors that a fleet of Federation ships close to the Nyuchiban border has been assembled as a precursor to a military invasion of Asuka III. A spokesperson for the administration has reaffirmed that President Kuntii’la will continue to pursue all diplomatic avenues available in order to bring a peaceful end to the rising sectarian violence on the Nyuchiban colony.
A recent poll conducted by FNS shows that 53 percent of Federation citizens support a diplomatic solution while 39 percent believe that a military response is required. This number is up five percent from last week and before the destruction of the Tripoli. The strongest support for military action is coming from Earth’s Asian continent where many see the nikkeijin – as the citizens of Nyuchiba are known – as close relatives.
Members of the UE General Assembly have also spoken out for a swift resolution of the crisis and have not ruled out their support for military intervention if -- >
Gavin looked at the woman occupying the passenger seat of the hover. “What do you think of what is happening on Nyuchiba? As a former resident I mean.”
“I try not to,” Mech replied.
“It’s rare to find somebody without an opinion these days.”
“I suppose.”
If Gavin had tried to strike up a conversation with his new team leader he had been utterly unsuccessful. Mech simply pushed a few strains of black hair out of her face and looked out of the window again.
“Say, you don’t talk much, do you?”
Unbeknownst to the young agent, Mech was concentrating on an entirely different conversation. <I had a look at the data you send me from the memory chip and I gotta say your people were surprisingly apt at extracting information from it. Wouldn’t have expected that from your little law enforcement outfit.>
Mech’s lips curled up into a small smile. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Well if you put it that way, I don’t know. I just thought something along the lines of breaking the ice.”
“Small talk?”
<Can I assume from your self-satisfied tone, Trigger, that you found something we’ve overlooked?”>
He nodded. “Sure.”
“I don’t do small talk.”
“Right.”
<Well they wouldn’t call me the second greatest hacker in the history of FedNet if I hadn’t,> he replied. <It was pretty hard to find as it was in the damaged part of the chip but I’ve got the company that created the hardware. After crosschecking FedNet I’m pretty sure it’s a bogus firm but I found a well hidden link to a warehouse location right in San Francisco.>
Gavin was not yet ready to give up. He didn’t let the presumed silence settle for too long. “You think we’ll be able to find something?”
She reached into her jacket to retrieve the greenish data chip.
“Bobbie and Travin managed to extract enough information to give us a number of potential locations our suspect might have visited within the last 72 hours,” said Gavin when he noticed the memory unit. “But here we are, following an entirely different lead.”
<Location?>
<Well ahead of you, darling. I’ve accessed your vehicle’s computer and entered the new destination.>
The hover made a sudden sharp turn, catching Gavin by complete surprise. “What the hell.”
“Relax,” Mech said.
“This is your doing?”
Mech closed her fist around the chip. “I want to know who is behind this piece of hardware. It is pretty impressive.”
“Alright, so where are you taking us?”
<Trigger?>
<An old shipyard in a place called Hunters Point. I’m uploading everything I found to you now. I’m afraid I can’t stay and chat. I do have other clients, you know.>
<Without doubt. Just stay away from those who are trying retire you permanently.>
<You should worry about your own artificial skin. Much bigger fish are after you,> he said and signed off.
“Hunters Point?” asked Gavin when he noticed the direction they had taken.
Mech nodded. “The old shipyards.”
A few minutes later the hover slowed down as it was approaching its preprogrammed destination. It was the late evening, after dark, and the entire area made a rather deserted impression. The vehicles powerful headlights revealed nothing but rows of old cranes and warehouses.
“And what makes you think we’ll find the supplier here?” asked Gavin as he strained his eyes to find anything that could rouse suspicion.
“I have a reliable source.”
He shot her a quick look. “Not something you would want to share, I take it.”
The hover stopped and Mech deactivated the lights, drowning them into darkness.
“A girl’s gotta have secrets,” she said with a wink and stepped out of the hover.
He got out after her and then followed his new boss as she quickly made her way down the narrow alleyways between the tall storage buildings.
It was already almost pitch dark but Mech – the LT – moved with determined purpose.
Cybernetic eyes, Gavin thought. He had to rely on his real pair but managed to stick close to the young woman. When she reached for her Glock he followed suit and drew his Seburo Super Seven. He’d had training with it but the projectile weapon still felt odd in his hand. It was heavier than the weapon he had been used to and required two hands in order to take a steady aim.
Mech stopped so suddenly he nearly ran right into her back.
She pointed at a tiny computer panel next to a well disguised door.
Gavin nodded. He hated doing this but he was not the type to complain to somebody he hardly even knew. He withdrew two dataports, fixed one to the side of his neck and the other right onto the computer terminal.
He was surprised at what he found. <That’s a level five firewall. What do they keep in here, the crown jewels?>
<Can you get passed it?>
<Sure, I guess but It’ll take a while,> he replied and went to work.
A bright green light flashed in front of his virtual vision and for a moment he lost sight of the firewall he was attempting to hack. He wasn’t exactly sure but he thought he could make out the feint outline of a purple haired woman.
He logged out and found that the door had opened already.
He threw Mech a surprised glance. She smiled and removed a dataport from her own neck.
“Damn your good. No wonder the old man wanted you on our side.”
Mech smartly slid back the barrel of her Glock to ensure a duranium bullet sat in the chamber and then stepped into the open door.
Gavin dove in after her.
_ _ _ _
Very nice writing and great character work. You handled the simultaneous "conversations" extremely well - not an easy trick!
I have to wonder about Mech - how much of her is still flesh and blood and how much is machine? Did she voluntarily accept the cybernetic upgrades, or was there some cause making them a necessity?
Good stuff!
I have to wonder about Mech - how much of her is still flesh and blood and how much is machine? Did she voluntarily accept the cybernetic upgrades, or was there some cause making them a necessity?
Good stuff!
Lots of stuff going on here and to echo Redshirt, I'm curious as well as to how much of Mech is human and how much machine? What makes a person? Very nicely done.
).
022 – “The Case Of The Old Man And The Stims.”
“This the last one?”
“Yes,” said Jackson Slade, looking out of the windshield of the hover and onto the imposing building stretching into the skies above them. A large blue and silver emblem decorated the tower about sixty meters up, announcing its purpose to the world.
“It’s a monstrosity,” said Tank. “What might Black have wanted here?”
“I don’t know,” the former team leader said and exited the hover after it had come to a halt “But this is our last lead from the results of Bobbie’s analysis of the memory chip. Let’s see if we can get some answers here and please try to be more inconspicuous this time.”
Tank shot him an annoyed glance over the roof of the hover. “What me?”
“You stand out like a Nausicaan at a Deltan wedding.”
He glared but didn’t speak.
“Just leave the talking to me,” said Slade and led the way across the square in front of the building. Even though it was already after business hours the tall glass doors slid open, allowing the two operatives to enter the lobby.
“Welcome to Federation Plaza,” a friendly female voice greeted.
It appeared to emanate from a three dimensional holographic display of the Federation emblem at the center of the spacious lobby. The sphere was actually a miniature version of the entire Federation territory. It was in constant movement and every few seconds another world flashed brightly, displaying useless trivia about the highlighted planet.
“Did you know that Tau Ceti III joined the Federation in 2321 and that it was the 127th world to do so?”
“No,” said Tank bored. “But now that I do know I wonder how I ever managed without that knowledge.”
Another glare from Slade.
Tank shrugged it off.
“Can I help you, officers?”
The two men turned to find a receptionist nearby. He was passed middle age and his gray hair was noticeably thinning out.
“How did you know?” Slade asked.
The old man smiled. “I wasn’t so sure about him,” he said pointing at Tank. “But you definitely look like an authority figure. It’s that square jaw of yours. Let me guess, former Starfleet. And now … FedSec?”
Tank couldn’t suppress his laughter and elbowed Slade. “I stand out, huh?”
Slade ignored his partner. He flashed his badge at the man behind reception. “MSD.”
He nodded. “Ah ha. Don’t feel bad, I’ve got a knack at getting people. I guess that’s why I’m stuck down here.”
“Have you seen this man here recently?” Slade said. The ultra-slim padd he had presented containing a digital version of his MSD credentials shifted to show the picture of Black.
Neither operative missed the sudden change in the old man’s behavior. A few sweat pearls formed on his forehead almost instantly and his right hand moved under his desk.
Tank’s own hand reached for the grip of his Seburo.
“I … I’m not sure.”
Jackson didn’t buy it. “Come on, you said you have a thing about recognizing people. This guy is pretty obvious if you ask me. You would remember having seen him around.”
Tank began to carefully circle reception desk, trying to get behind the old man who continued to stare at the image while his hand remained busy out of view.
“It’s just I can’t be sure, you see. There are a lot of people coming in and out of here during the day. So many people, so many faces.”
Tank drew his firearm. “Step away from the desk!”
The old man looked at imposing weapon with wide open eyes.
Slade took a step back, putting the padd away and reaching for his own gun.
“I won’t say it again.”
The receptionist stepped hesitantly backwards. He was holding something in his right hand and it dropped out of his grip as he backed away. When it clattered onto the floor he looked down at it as if he had never seen it before.
“What is it?” asked Slade.
Tank moved in slowly. “It looks like data ports.”
“I … I don’t know how those got here.”
Tank picked the chip-sized devices off the ground and placed them on the desk. Differently to regular data ports these were white and much slimmer. They were not designed to send signals but to deliver a specific program right to the user’s enhancer.
“Stims,” said Slade.
“I don’t use those,” the receptionist said quickly. “I mean … I never did.”
“You’ve been caught red handed, old man. You were trying to hide these form us. And from your reaction to that image I’d say you got them from our guy. We know he deals in those.”
The receptionist looked at Tank with utter puzzlement written all over his face. His eyes were threatening to budge out of his skull. “I swear I don’t know who that man is,” he said and wiped the sweat of his brow. He looked back at the stims that had dropped out of his hand. “And I don’t know about those either.”
Tank exchanged a skeptical look with Slade.
“We have no choice but to take you into custody for using an illegal substance. But you can help yourself if you cooperate with us. It might reduce your sentence.”
The man was near tears. “But I told you I don’t know. Why would I lie? You have to believe me I’ve never used this kind of stuff. I used to be in Starfleet like you.”
Slade sighed. “Let’s assume for a moment you are right, how do you explain those stims? They didn’t magically appear in your hand, did they?”
He looked at his hands as if it was a possibility. “I don’t know.”
<You don’t honestly believe this guy?> Tank asked through a direct link.
<Something is off here. Why would he continue to insist on his innocence if he dropped those stims right in front of our eyes?>
<God knows, maybe he’s going for the insanity plea or maybe he’s got a major case of senility. Don’t tell me you’re going to buy this act just because the guy was in the Fleet.>
The man was sobbing now, holding his face in his hands.
<Get some uniforms up here to get this guy to headquarters> said Slade. He had noticed a distracting static coming over the link to Tank, it had only appeared very recently. It was just in the background and did not prevent him from communicating with the other agent but whatever it was, it was gaining intensity.
<Alright.>
“We have no choice in the matter,” Slade told the receptionist. “Possession of stims is illegal and you will have to face a judge. But I promise that we’ll consider mitigating circumstances if you fully cooperate with us. As much as you can.”
He nodded slowly.
“Who else is in the building?” Slade wanted to know.
“It’s mostly empty at this time of the night,” he said between sobs. “The NFTA is celebrating a Japanese holiday in their offices on the seventy-fourth floor.”
“NFTA?” asked Tank.
“The Nyuchiba-Federation Trade Alliance. They have their headquarters here.”
“Anything else happening?” said Slade. “Or any unusual activities lately?”
The old man had calmed down somewhat. He considered the question for a moment and then shook his head. “Not really. We had some high level visits from Paris this week, and they did maintenance work down in the basement the last couple of days. Everything else was fairly routine.”
Two dark blue, four door hovers arrived outside the building. Bright white letters shone through the darkness. Municipal Safety. And in smaller letters on the back fender: Serving the citizens and visitors to San Francisco.
A couple of officers in matching blue officers exited the vehicles and entered Federation Plaza.
“Very well,” said Slade. “These officers will take you down to our headquarters now.” He indicated to the pair of female agents who approached the receptionist.
“Inform Bobbie Case that he’s been found using stims but insists on his innocence,” he said to one of the officers. “I want a full interrogation and a closer look at his enhancers if he lets us.”
“Yes, sir,” she said and then proceeded to slip a matchbox sized device between the old man’s wrist, forcing them together behind his back.
The old man offered no resistance. “I swear by the oath I took in Starfleet, I’ve never seen those things before,” he said and indicated towards the stims on the desk before he was escorted out of the building.
Tank watched them leave. “What a nut case.”
“Did you notice the static in the comlink?”
Tank nodded. “Yeah, it’s been there ever since we got into this building. What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know but something tells me Black didn’t just come here to peddle some stims to an aging receptionist.”
“Wanna check out the festivities upstairs?”
“I’m not much for parties.”
“You don’t say.”
“You go. I have a look around down here.”
Tank didn’t need to be told twice.
“This the last one?”
“Yes,” said Jackson Slade, looking out of the windshield of the hover and onto the imposing building stretching into the skies above them. A large blue and silver emblem decorated the tower about sixty meters up, announcing its purpose to the world.
“It’s a monstrosity,” said Tank. “What might Black have wanted here?”
“I don’t know,” the former team leader said and exited the hover after it had come to a halt “But this is our last lead from the results of Bobbie’s analysis of the memory chip. Let’s see if we can get some answers here and please try to be more inconspicuous this time.”
Tank shot him an annoyed glance over the roof of the hover. “What me?”
“You stand out like a Nausicaan at a Deltan wedding.”
He glared but didn’t speak.
“Just leave the talking to me,” said Slade and led the way across the square in front of the building. Even though it was already after business hours the tall glass doors slid open, allowing the two operatives to enter the lobby.
“Welcome to Federation Plaza,” a friendly female voice greeted.
It appeared to emanate from a three dimensional holographic display of the Federation emblem at the center of the spacious lobby. The sphere was actually a miniature version of the entire Federation territory. It was in constant movement and every few seconds another world flashed brightly, displaying useless trivia about the highlighted planet.
“Did you know that Tau Ceti III joined the Federation in 2321 and that it was the 127th world to do so?”
“No,” said Tank bored. “But now that I do know I wonder how I ever managed without that knowledge.”
Another glare from Slade.
Tank shrugged it off.
“Can I help you, officers?”
The two men turned to find a receptionist nearby. He was passed middle age and his gray hair was noticeably thinning out.
“How did you know?” Slade asked.
The old man smiled. “I wasn’t so sure about him,” he said pointing at Tank. “But you definitely look like an authority figure. It’s that square jaw of yours. Let me guess, former Starfleet. And now … FedSec?”
Tank couldn’t suppress his laughter and elbowed Slade. “I stand out, huh?”
Slade ignored his partner. He flashed his badge at the man behind reception. “MSD.”
He nodded. “Ah ha. Don’t feel bad, I’ve got a knack at getting people. I guess that’s why I’m stuck down here.”
“Have you seen this man here recently?” Slade said. The ultra-slim padd he had presented containing a digital version of his MSD credentials shifted to show the picture of Black.
Neither operative missed the sudden change in the old man’s behavior. A few sweat pearls formed on his forehead almost instantly and his right hand moved under his desk.
Tank’s own hand reached for the grip of his Seburo.
“I … I’m not sure.”
Jackson didn’t buy it. “Come on, you said you have a thing about recognizing people. This guy is pretty obvious if you ask me. You would remember having seen him around.”
Tank began to carefully circle reception desk, trying to get behind the old man who continued to stare at the image while his hand remained busy out of view.
“It’s just I can’t be sure, you see. There are a lot of people coming in and out of here during the day. So many people, so many faces.”
Tank drew his firearm. “Step away from the desk!”
The old man looked at imposing weapon with wide open eyes.
Slade took a step back, putting the padd away and reaching for his own gun.
“I won’t say it again.”
The receptionist stepped hesitantly backwards. He was holding something in his right hand and it dropped out of his grip as he backed away. When it clattered onto the floor he looked down at it as if he had never seen it before.
“What is it?” asked Slade.
Tank moved in slowly. “It looks like data ports.”
“I … I don’t know how those got here.”
Tank picked the chip-sized devices off the ground and placed them on the desk. Differently to regular data ports these were white and much slimmer. They were not designed to send signals but to deliver a specific program right to the user’s enhancer.
“Stims,” said Slade.
“I don’t use those,” the receptionist said quickly. “I mean … I never did.”
“You’ve been caught red handed, old man. You were trying to hide these form us. And from your reaction to that image I’d say you got them from our guy. We know he deals in those.”
The receptionist looked at Tank with utter puzzlement written all over his face. His eyes were threatening to budge out of his skull. “I swear I don’t know who that man is,” he said and wiped the sweat of his brow. He looked back at the stims that had dropped out of his hand. “And I don’t know about those either.”
Tank exchanged a skeptical look with Slade.
“We have no choice but to take you into custody for using an illegal substance. But you can help yourself if you cooperate with us. It might reduce your sentence.”
The man was near tears. “But I told you I don’t know. Why would I lie? You have to believe me I’ve never used this kind of stuff. I used to be in Starfleet like you.”
Slade sighed. “Let’s assume for a moment you are right, how do you explain those stims? They didn’t magically appear in your hand, did they?”
He looked at his hands as if it was a possibility. “I don’t know.”
<You don’t honestly believe this guy?> Tank asked through a direct link.
<Something is off here. Why would he continue to insist on his innocence if he dropped those stims right in front of our eyes?>
<God knows, maybe he’s going for the insanity plea or maybe he’s got a major case of senility. Don’t tell me you’re going to buy this act just because the guy was in the Fleet.>
The man was sobbing now, holding his face in his hands.
<Get some uniforms up here to get this guy to headquarters> said Slade. He had noticed a distracting static coming over the link to Tank, it had only appeared very recently. It was just in the background and did not prevent him from communicating with the other agent but whatever it was, it was gaining intensity.
<Alright.>
“We have no choice in the matter,” Slade told the receptionist. “Possession of stims is illegal and you will have to face a judge. But I promise that we’ll consider mitigating circumstances if you fully cooperate with us. As much as you can.”
He nodded slowly.
“Who else is in the building?” Slade wanted to know.
“It’s mostly empty at this time of the night,” he said between sobs. “The NFTA is celebrating a Japanese holiday in their offices on the seventy-fourth floor.”
“NFTA?” asked Tank.
“The Nyuchiba-Federation Trade Alliance. They have their headquarters here.”
“Anything else happening?” said Slade. “Or any unusual activities lately?”
The old man had calmed down somewhat. He considered the question for a moment and then shook his head. “Not really. We had some high level visits from Paris this week, and they did maintenance work down in the basement the last couple of days. Everything else was fairly routine.”
Two dark blue, four door hovers arrived outside the building. Bright white letters shone through the darkness. Municipal Safety. And in smaller letters on the back fender: Serving the citizens and visitors to San Francisco.
A couple of officers in matching blue officers exited the vehicles and entered Federation Plaza.
“Very well,” said Slade. “These officers will take you down to our headquarters now.” He indicated to the pair of female agents who approached the receptionist.
“Inform Bobbie Case that he’s been found using stims but insists on his innocence,” he said to one of the officers. “I want a full interrogation and a closer look at his enhancers if he lets us.”
“Yes, sir,” she said and then proceeded to slip a matchbox sized device between the old man’s wrist, forcing them together behind his back.
The old man offered no resistance. “I swear by the oath I took in Starfleet, I’ve never seen those things before,” he said and indicated towards the stims on the desk before he was escorted out of the building.
Tank watched them leave. “What a nut case.”
“Did you notice the static in the comlink?”
Tank nodded. “Yeah, it’s been there ever since we got into this building. What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know but something tells me Black didn’t just come here to peddle some stims to an aging receptionist.”
“Wanna check out the festivities upstairs?”
“I’m not much for parties.”
“You don’t say.”
“You go. I have a look around down here.”
Tank didn’t need to be told twice.
_ _ _ _
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