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Barely Human: Shadow Plays

029 – “Stuck In The Middle With You.”



Gavin had to do something.

The AI tank had closed in on Mech’s unmoving body and was moments away from finishing the job.

He reached for his Seburo and lined up the shot which thanks to the heads-up display could not have been any easier. He made a quick note to himself to thank Sly Martinez for introducing the feature.

He then switched the weapon to projectile mode and immediately felt a tang of concern. It would mark the first time he didn’t use the phaser setting in the field. There was of course no time for hesitation now.

Gavin fired ten rounds in quick succession each one accompanied with a dull bang every time a bullet left the chamber. All bullets found their mark and penetrated the outer casing of the tank. They did not cause the damage he had hoped for. It did however turn to face him.

He began to step backwards, squeezing off another seven rounds. His aim remained true and the affect on the intimidating battle machine was still the same. If anything it made it angry, if that was possible.

The machine set in motion to close in on him, the barrel adjusting to fire.

Gavin turned and ran for his life, fully aware that the AI tank had set out to hunt him down.

The ran along the length of the container and heard the hum of the moving battle machine behind him. His heads-up display–still superimposed over his vision–told him that his gun was down to 8 bullets. Not overly experienced with projectile weapons he decided to change magazines, after all 25 sounded a lot better than 8. His thumb found the switch which released the magazine and it clattered to the floor behind him. He reached for his replacement mag and slid it easily into the Super Seven without ever slowing down his pace.

Once he reached the end of the container he had a split second to make a decision. Keep going straight ahead for the exit or make a u-turn as he had originally intended. The exit some 100 yards away looked mightily inviting but he’d be entirely exposed. He made the turn for another reason. Gavin was not going to leave Mech behind.

He took the next turn too quickly and slipped on the smooth floor of the warehouse. A moment of panic gripped him when he harshly collided with the ground and his gun slipped out of his hand.

He could hear the tank gaining on him.

He had landed on his left arm and it was now in fiery pain. He knew that a cybernetic limb would have been able to absorb the impact with no difficulty. He had not time to debate the pros of cybernization.

Gavin picked himself up, trying to ignore the throbbing in his bruised arm. He reached for his weapon and within moments was on the run again, continuing alongside the container and back towards Mech. The tank was still on the opposite side but only a few moments behind him.

He cleared the container and found Mech still laying on the floor. Rushing towards her he tried to wake her as he approached. “LT! LT, we got to get out of here.”

He slid to his knees and shook her by the shoulders. Her form-fitting suit was ripped in places but her skin seemed unscratched and Gavin didn’t spot a single droplet of blood.

“LT!”

She opened her eyes. “You should have gotten out of here,” she said with surprising calm and calculation evident in her even voice.

“I was not about to leave you behind.”

She smirked. “That’s awfully sweet of you,” she said and then easily stood up.

Gavin looked at her with bewilderment. “I thought you were injured.”

“I’m fine.”

And then he realized his mistake. Mech had only pretended to be injured in order to get closer to the tank. He felt a dull anger rising within him. After all he had just risked his own life to come back and rescue her.

“No time for regrets,” she said as if she had just read his thoughts. “I need you to head down that way now,” she added and pointed into the opposite direction of the exit. “There is another tank in here.”

“What?”

But she already pushed him along. “Go.”

The AI machine that had been following Tank re-emerged from behind the container and that was all the motivation the young operative needed to get moving.

He looked behind him to see Mech having picked up her Glock again, firing at the approaching tank. Then it responded in kind and for a second he feared she would not be able to evade a second blast. But the LT jumped aside with the ease of a circus performer. Then she leaped into the air only to land right on top of the vehicle.

<Turn left at the end of the warehouse.>

Gavin had no idea what she had in mind but he was not going to argue with her now. He did as he was told and after a few moments he was once again surrounded by containers, losing eye contact with Mech.

He felt not unlike a mouse trapped inside a maze. He was surrounded by high walls created by the tall and lengthy containers. Gavin had only the vaguest idea where he was but none whatsoever how to get out.

<Turn left now.>

He decided to trust her. After all it seemed she knew what she was doing which was more he could say for himself. He turned only to be directed down a long and narrow path.

What was Mech doing and how did she know where he should go?

He was halfway to the other end when something moved in to block the opening. Gavin’s heart stopped. It was an AI tank and it had a clear shot on him now. There would be no cover and place to go. Mech had led him into a trap.

With no other alternatives available to him he spun around, trying to make it back the way he had come from. He tried hard to ignore the truth of the matter. He didn’t have a prayer to get back to the other end before that tank opened fire.

And then the unthinkable happened. Another tank slowly moved around the corner to block his only route of escape.

“Shit.”

He raised his gun without a second thought. Effective or no, the only option left to him was to try and blast himself out and hope he would hit a weak spot.

But Gavin froze when he realized that right on top of the machine, sat Mech, riding the tank like Patton in Normandy. She was wearing her data port on her neck and a similar device was attached directly to the tank’s outer casing.

He didn’t know how she’d done it but somehow she had managed to link directly with the machine and it appeared to follow her every order now.

For just a moment he forgot that there was another deadly tank approaching him from behind.

Mech was kind enough to remind him. “Get down.”

With an inkling of what was about to happen, he flattened himself to the ground. Not a heartbeat later he heard the tank behind him fire. And so did Mech’s.

The temptation to close his eyes was enormous but if he had he would have missed her acrobatic leap off the tank just a moment before it was ripped apart by a massive plasma discharge.

He did shield his eyes and then quickly looked behind him where he heard a similar explosion. The two tanks had obliterated each other.

“Are you alright?”

Gavin stood up slowly and needed a few seconds to realize that her voice had come from above him. Mech stood on top of the container with a somewhat satisfied expression on her face.

“Honestly, I’ve been better,” he said and was not embarrassed to admit to it. “Next time I’d appreciate a heads up.”

“Sorry,” she said and dropped down next to him.

Gavin was not appeased that easily. “You could have told me what you’d planned instead of using me as bait without knowing it.”

“I didn’t really have a plan. I was making this up as I went along.”

The rookie agent blanched.

She patted him on the shoulder. “And you did real good. Couldn’t have done it without you,” she said. “Now how about we get out of here?”

Gavin just nodded and they both made their way towards the exit.

He desperately wanted to know how she had managed to do what she had done but his mind was still swarming with one too many near-death scenarios. He had expected to get himself into one or two dangerous situations when he had signed up for CCiD but this he had not foreseen. And he had certainly not expected somebody like Mech, a woman of almost superhuman abilities, at his side.

They crossed into the open warehouse space again and Gavin was still wondering how he had managed to survive the last minutes when Mech stopped cold.

He didn’t need to ask why. Two more tanks had appeared, standing between them and their one and only way out. “Damn, where are these things coming from?” he said. “It’s like they’re preparing for a war.”

“Maybe they are,” said Mech and drew her gun.

“Please tell me you have a plan to get us out of here alive now,” he said and followed suit, painfully aware that neither of their weapons had proven effective against their resilient opponents.

Mech remained quiet and Gavin swallowed.

The two tanks began their approach.

_ _ _ _​
 
"Tanks for the memories..."

Sorry...couldn't resist. Gavin got his money's worth in this one--he'll be lucky to get out of it in one piece. As for Mech--adapt, improvise, and improve--and if that doesn't work--PANIC!
 
030 – “Please Stand By For A Special News Alert!”



“We interrupt our regular broadcast with a breaking news story,” said the Trill newscaster, a serious expression on his face. “22 minutes ago residents of Earth were surprised to find that most broadcasts feeds and cyberlink frequencies were hijacked by an unsanctioned feed from a group of terrorists which have taken numerous hostages at FedPlaza in San Francisco. We will now re-run this feed. Please be advised that this is material not deemed suitable for young children or those sensitive to disturbing content.”

The newscaster disappeared to be replaced by another warning message.

The feed was slightly grainy and not perfectly clear, giving further evidence that whoever had broadcasted it had done so illegally. It showed a row of people, sitting on the floor, their hands bound behind their backs. They were mostly young and middle aged men and women and they all looked scared. Some avoided to look directly at the screen but those who did were pleading with their eyes. Some had minor cuts and injuries on their faces, signs of a recent struggle.

Nobody spoke.

“People of the Federation,” a monotone voice began, “pay close attention to these faces as they will be the first victims of your own thoughtless actions. These men and women will be the first to die in this war of your own making. Your ignorant leaders–which you have followed so blindly–have set you on a course of self-destruction. Make no mistake, you alone will be to blame for their deaths.”

After the presentation of the hostage the man speaking was revealed. He, like most of the hostages, was of East Asian descent and was smartly dressed in a black dinner jacket. A small purple orchid was attached to the breast pocket. His own face however was blurred out and completely unrecognizable when he faced the screen.

“We are the members of the Freedom for Nyuchiba Society and as of 2100 hours Federation Standard Time we have taken 58 hostages here at Federation Plaza in the city of San Francisco on Earth,” he said, keeping his voice almost entirely free of any kind of inflection. He slowly walked passed his hostages while he spoke but always facing the screen. “For too long have we sat by quietly while you have meddled in the affairs of our people. For too long have we tolerated the Federation’s poisonous influence on our world. Many decades ago we severed our links to Earth but like any empire the Federation has never fully accepted our decision.”

He walked all the way up to the twenty feet tall floor-to-ceiling windows. He turned around to have the bright Frisco skyline as his backdrop. “We have come to you now, into the heart of the Federation to tell you in no uncertain terms that Nyuchiba has had enough of your meddling. Demand from your leaders that the Federation immediately and unconditionally retreat from Asuka III and all Nyuchiba controlled territory. It is not too late to save your own people. But time is against you. We will execute the first of our hostage at exactly 2200 hours and then another one every hour until your government has agreed to our demands. The fate of these people rests solely in your hands.”

The transmission ended.

The Trill in his news studio reappeared. “We now go directly to our own correspondent Silvia Sanchez who is live on the scene in San Francisco. Silvia, what is the situation where you are now?”

The image shifted to show a pretty blonde woman wearing a sharp blue suit standing on a street about half a block away from the massive FedPlaza. “Jaxon, as you can see I am just a few hundred meters away from the building in which the hostages are being kept,” she said and pointed to one of the upper floors, one of the few where lights were visible. “According to our information the hostages are being held on the 74th floor. The authorities were not aware of this situation until these terrorist revealed themselves and their motives with the illegal broadcast we have just seen. In fact my team and I were amongst the first on the scene here.”

“Amazing,” said Jaxon who was still visible through a small inset screen at the bottom right. “Now I see a lot of activity behind you. A number of authorities now appear to be on scene.”

The correspondent moved aside to allow the camera to get a better sight of what was taking place behind her. The street had been blocked off and a large number of people in all kinds of uniforms were making their way busily back and fro. Dozens of street vehicles, transports and even a few shuttles were littering the street immediately in front of the FedPlaza.

“That is right, Jaxon,” she said. “We’ve been able to identify officers of the local Municipal Safety Department, the San Francisco Sheriff’s Department and also quite a few Starfleet officers. This might not be surprising considering that Starfleet Headquarters are located in this city. We’ve also seen UEDA officers, members of the California Security Administration and a few plain clothed persons we believe to be FedSec agents.”

The image zoomed in to focus on a Starfleet runabout which was easily the single biggest vehicle present.

Silva came back into the frame and looked down at a padd she was holding. “This large vessel right behind me is a Danube-class Starfleet ship,” she said, reading from her padd. “The USS Huang He. According to our information she is attached to Starfleet Headquarters and is currently used as a tactical command center.”

“Would it be safe to assume then that Starfleet has been placed in charge?”

“I wouldn’t be able to answer that at this point. So far the only official statement has come from a Municipal Safety spokesperson who has told us that the situations is being dealt with by a special task force and that they are confident that it will be resolved quickly and with little or no violence.”

“This means we do not know who is actually in charge.”

“No but I should point out that no precedent exist. What we are looking at here is the first hostage crisis on Earth in almost 150 years and judging from the reaction of those we have spoken to it has caught everyone here by utter surprise.”

The Trill nodded in agreement. “It has certainly caught us by surprise, Silva. Any idea on what a non-violent resolve of this situation might look like? Has there been any more negotiations with these terrorists?”

“Again, we haven’t been given any details and I wouldn’t want to speculate but you would think that with the use of transporter technology it should be fairly easy to rescue the hostages. We haven’t been told anything as to negotiations or any methods being used to resolve this crisis.”

“Thank you, Silva,” the anchor said. “Silva Sanchez will remain on site and update us on any further developments as they take place.”

The image shifted and Jaxon became dominant again with the a live feed of FedPlaza remaining at the bottom of the screen with a bold caption reading: San Francisco Hostage Crisis.

“Back in the studio I would like to welcome two guests who might be able to shed some light on these very unexpected developments. Coming to us via subspace from Vulcan, we have Professor Tirnok from the Vulcan Science Academy and writer of the recent book The Invisible Threat: An Analysis of the Attempts of Foreign Powers to Undermining our Society from Within and directly from San Francisco we welcome Mister Michael Gary Grayson, founder and president of the Grayson Institute and outspoken government critic. Thank you both for agreeing to appearing on our show on such a short notice.”

A split screen revealed both men, an elderly Vulcan scientist with a stern visage, sitting calmly in a chair with the Vulcan desert plains visible behind him and a man of less than half his age and handsome features and undeniable charm. Two polar opposites.

The Vulcan barely moved his head to acknowledge the Trill moderator.

“Thanks for having me,” said Grayson with an easy smile.

“Now Professor if I may begin with you. You are one of the Federation’s most accomplished researchers in the field of criminology, espionage and terrorism. Your most recent work has in great details looked into the possibility of foreign powers trying to infiltrate our society and causing turmoil from within. In your professional opinion what is it that is happening here with these Nyuchiban terrorists attacking Earth in this manner?”

“What we are witnessing in San Francisco is a classic example of a foreign terrorist fraction attempting to pressure our government to act in a way which is compatible with the terrorist’s own goals. There are a great number of comparable examples throughout history. These attempts have a miniscule success rates and are extremely uncommon within the Federation.”

“So these terrorist should know that the government will not negotiate with them. What are they hoping to achieve?”

“In order to understand these terrorist one must first understand the culture from which they originate. Nyuchiba is a violent society not unlike Earth of the 20th century. Fear and intimidation are common place. What we are seeing is an illogical attempt to bring proven methods to a different environment with the expectation that similar results will be achieved.”

“Mister Grayson,” said Jaxon, “you are a great admirer of the Nyuchiban people and I understand many of your works focus on how the Federation should turn to these–some would say–outdated ideals instead of continuing on our present path. Does an incident like the one today not hurt your argument?”

At that Grayson’s brown eyes sparkled almost as if he had been looking forward to this question. “I’m very glad you have mentioned this,” he said in a very pleasant tone of voice, throwing off the Trill anchor slightly. If he had hoped to embarrass Grayson he had failed completely.

“I believe if anything, today’s incident has proven how relevant my work really is. Take for example the way our trusted authorities have handled this unexpected situation. It is clear even now that no single agency is emerging as the one taking responsibility. Nobody within the Federation has the slightest idea how to deal with something nobody has ever expected would happen. Jaxon, the universe is a bad place. I think we have all come to realize this ever since the wars we have fought with the Romulans, the Klingons, the Borg and the Dominion. And yet our leaders–our entire system of government–continues unperturbed and with blissful ignorance about the dangers that our citizens could face at any time and–as we can see now–in virtually any place.

Now the unthinkable has happened, Jaxon. Innocent Federation citizens have been taken against their will to be used as bargaining tools against their own government. On Earth nonetheless. We have traded in our safety and security for a life filled of comfort and luxury. We have become complacent and we have nobody to blame but ourselves.

The professor is correct. Nyuchiba is unlike the Federation. They have crime and they have violence but they also have people equipped to handle it. And they are very good and very efficient at what they do. These terrorist have come to seek us out because we don’t have anybody to protect us. And this, Jaxon, could only be the beginning. How many innocent lives are we willing to risk until we say enough?”

_ _ _ _​
 
Grayson's schemes are beginning to take shape. Of course, he's unaware of the monkey wrenches that have been thrown into the works...
 
031 – “Too Many Cooks.”


Disgusted Masamune turned away from the monitor only to find that most of the computer screens in the command center displayed similar broadcasts. This was the story of the year and news organizations throughout the Federation and beyond had jumped on the bandwagon, covering the event as if the fate of the Federation depended on the outcome.

“Maybe it does,” he mumbled.

The Grazerite Starfleet ensign operating the console shot him a quizzical look but Masamune ignored him entirely and instead turned to look out of the viewports to look upon the source that had captured the attention of the galaxy.

FedPlaza had been practically sealed off both from the inside and the outside. The hostages on the 74th floor held by a gang of ruthless terrorists threatening to kill the first one in just under 40 minutes. For many of those around him the situation was almost surreal. They questioned how an act so despicable could have happened right here at the center of their utopian world.

For Masamune it was nothing he had not seen before, sadly.

“Alright people, we have to take action and we have to do it now if we want any chance of saving all of these hostages.”

Masamune turned around and sighed at what he found. Around the table sat and stood a number of different officials from various agencies. The United Earth Defense Agency was represented by General Schneider, a white-haired and soft spoken gentlemen who was nevertheless not used to share authority. There was Sheriff John Payton who had been first on the scene and had assumed initial command. He was the exact opposite of Schneider, boisterous and obnoxious, he had wanted–nay demanded–to be given immediate command.

But no one had relented. Not the two FedSec officers dressed in indistinct black suits, only the small Federation lapel pins identifying them as Federation agents, nor Captain Whren who had taken the initiative and stood at the head of the table.

Whren was backed up by the fact that his Starfleet officers outnumbered anybody else on scene, the vessel they currently occupied and used as a command center was a Starfleet runabout attached to their headquarters.

Masamune found that he had been slightly too well prepared for this situation.

Whren build himself up and continued to speak over the chatter that had ensued. “We have managed to establish communications with the hostage takers, as you know the leader who has failed to identify himself has not backed down from his previously issued demands.”

“We should use additional negotiators,” Payton said, cutting off the Starfleet officer. “Continue to persuade them to give us more time and release some of the hostages.”

It wasn’t a bad suggestion, Masamune thought, but he very much doubted it would work. He had heard the terrorist leader speak. The man had shown supreme confidence in his plan, he had sounded like he had given them a rehearsed speech and at no time had he appeared to deviate from it.

“Transporters remain our best option to retrieve the hostages,” one of the FedSec agents said. “We need to further investigate a way to circumvent the transporter scrambles.”

Their first attempt had been to try to beam the hostages out of FedPlaza. It had been a nearly fatal mistake. The hostage takers had not warned them that they had installed transporter scrambles throughout the super-scraper. The rescue teams had attempted to force the issue and nearly killed a few of the hostages by scattering their molecules across the city.

Whren shook his head. “There is no time for that.”

“Then we have to rely on an more old-fashioned approach,” said Schneider calmly who was one of the few who had remained in his seat.

“An assault team,” agreed the FedSec man.

Masamune got the distinct impression that Whren didn’t seem to like the idea, his antennae drooped ever so slightly. Nobody else in the room seemed to notice.

Peyton nodded sharply. “I have thirty-eight armed men ready to go. If we breach now we might be able to get there before they execute their first hostage.”

“No offense, Sheriff, but your men are glorified traffic cops,” said Schneider and the look in Peyton’s eyes made clear that he had taken offense. The general continued unconcerned. “I have ordered the mobilization of eighty-five of my best people stationed at Fort Bragg. They will arrive here in less than 20 minutes.”

“Might as well be 20 hours for all the good that will do us,” said Peyton, albeit under his breath. “If we wait any longer to take action our chances to reach the hostages in time are next to zero.”

“This discussion is pointless as neither one of you has the authority to do this,” said the FedSec agent sternly.

“Then who does?” asked Whren.

The agent produced a padd and placed it on the desk. “We do,” he said and his remarkably similar looking partner nodded in agreement. “According to Federation law, Internal Security Memorandum 2341, section 8, article 26 B: ‘All Federation government installations including all installations connected to the Federation government which are not associated or under the administration of another Federation agency are to be secured and protected by Federation Security’,” he declared from memory.

“And where exactly was this protection when these lunatics took over Fed Plaza?” roared Payton.

“Maybe I should ask how you allowed a group of heavily armed terrorists to enter your city undetected, Sherriff?“

“How dare you accuse me of –“

Whren interrupted the two quarreling men. “Gentlemen, there seems little point in playing the blame game now. I’m certain we will have plenty of time for that when this is all over,” he said and then turned to the man in the dark suit. “You may have jurisdiction here but how practical is this going to be? All your people on Earth will be busy protecting the government, now more so than ever. Your headquarters are all the way at Alpha Centauri, it will take hours for any of your special forces to get to Earth.”

Apparently the agent had to concede that point.

“Then we need to make do with what we have,” said Payton again. “My men might not be numerous but they are well trained and well armed.” He turned to look at the short old man who as yet had not taken part in this conversation. “Mister Masamune, you have been rather quiet. Surely you agree with me. If your people were to join forces with mine we would have substantial numbers and could strike quickly.”

Everybody turned to Masamune.

The MSD chief gripped his cane tighter and took a step towards the table. “I agree that action needs to be taken but we should not act rashly.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed we do not have the time to analyze this situation endlessly,” the FedSec agent said. “We have about 37 minutes until the first hostage will be killed.”

Masamune nodded slowly, making it clear that he understood perfectly the limited time frame. “We might have to accept certain losses in this situation,” he said calmly.

This caused much uproar amongst the assembled people who were astonished to hear such talk from the law enforcement chief. They spoke over each other, nobody listening to anyone else but everyone making their displeasure known.

Masamune used his cane to rap against the floor loudly. “Gentlemen, please,” he said and the room began to fall silent again. “It should be obvious to all of you by now that we are not dealing with common criminals here. These people have planned this act quite meticulously and have anticipated everything that has happened so far. They are also fully aware that Paris will make no decisions within an hour. Gentlemen, I propose that these terrorists fully expect us to take hasty actions such as have been proposed here.”

“Assuming you are right, what do you suggest we do?” asked General Schneider.

Masamune gave the white-haired general a nod of appreciation for his calmly formulated question. “You, as a military man should appreciate the fact that no operation should ever be carried out without as much reliable information about the situation as can be ascertained.”

Payton took the bait. “But we have no information about these people.”

“Not yet, Sherriff. But I have operatives already inside the building doing their best to change that fact.”

This caused another round of surprised interruptions.

“Are you in contact with your people?” asked the FedSec agent.

To that Masamune had to shake his head. “Not at the moment but we are trying to resolve this as well.”

“I don’t see how that changes anything then,” said Whren. Masamune couldn’t be sure but it appeared to him that the Andorian Starfleet officer didn’t appreciate that Masamune had moved into the spotlight. “In fact, to be quite honest, I’m not entirely comfortable with you being part of this operation in the first place,” said Whren with accusing eyes.

Masamune was not surprised. “And why is that, Captain?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Whren but quickly found that it was not, as everyone in the room except for him and Masamune appeared startled. “These terrorist have declared themselves to be Nyuchiban in origin. You yourself are Nyuchiban, are you not? This is a classic conflict of interest. And while I’m being blunt, I have to yet be convinced of where your allegiances lie. Are you even a Federation citizen? Is the team leader of your special forces unit?”

Masamune simply stared back at the Andorian while everybody else in the room remained quite. The chief didn’t bother to explain to this man that he was born right here in San Francisco. He also didn’t bother to tell him that yes, he had spend a large amount of his life in the Nyuchiba Sprawl were as the senior official of the local law enforcement unit he had overseen dozens of similar hostage situations. It didn’t really matter because Masamune understood that Whren was not really after the truth. The Starfleet captain wanted him out of the picture.

In the end he did not have to defend himself however.

The Starfleet officers in the room jumped from their stations to stand at attention.

“Admiral on deck!”

Whren went rigid himself.

Selina Tessier strode purposefully into the command center. Her diminutive stature taking nothing away from her commanding presence.

Unimpressed the other men at the table hardly even acknowledged her presence. To them she was merely another Starfleet officer.

“As you were,” she said casually and the troops relaxed. “There is no need to question Mister Masamune’s loyalties. I’ve known him for many years and he is a lot of things but he certainly is not a traitor,” she said and fixed the old man with a hard stare.

Everyone in the room noticed that there was no love lost between the two but there was something more. Respect for each other, perhaps even more than that.

Whren made an effort to hide his annoyance of his superior officer undercutting his argument. He was too loyal to show such blatant disrespect.

Masamune did not appreciate the gesture either. He did not need anyone to come to his rescue.

The admiral walked up to the viewport and then turned to face the entire room. “Actions need to be taken,” she said and gestured towards the screens to her side which were still showing the uninterrupted coverage of the unfolding crisis. “The galaxy has its eyes upon us and we will not send a message of complacency and inaction. Make no mistake. Today the Federation has been attacked and as such we will respond. It will be unmistakably clear that we will not tolerate terrorism on our soil.”

“Starfleet is not in charge here,” the FedSec agent protested.

Tessier smiled at the man but there was nothing sweet about it. “We’ll see about that.”

_ _ _ _
​
 
A personality conflict amidst a turf war--nothing like bureaucratic wrangling in the midst of a crisis--the more things change...the more they remain the same.
 
032 – “A Little Bit of Resistance.”


Gavin wondered why the two tanks hadn’t opened fire yet. Maybe they wanted to get in as close as possible to make sure their strikes would be dead on target. Or maybe they were sent to apprehend the two interlopers, possibly take them prisoner. Maybe the person controlling them–if they were being controlled–had a perverse pleasure in delaying the inevitable for as long as possible.

The only thing that was certain was the two tanks were still approaching and had not yet fired.

Both Gavin and Mech had emptied their clips onto the approaching death machines without so much as slowing them down.

For the first time Gavin became painfully aware of the limitations of projectile weapons. They tended to run out of ammunition. His old Fletcher or a Starfleet issue phaser wouldn’t have had the same problem. But if duranium bullets hadn’t stopped these things he very much doubted a phaser could have.

“Mech?”

“Yes.”

They remained facing their approaching doom, their useless weapons held out in front of them.

“Any ideas?”

“Not yet.”

The tanks stopped simultaneously, no 20 feet away, their firing barrels apparently adjusting to their targets.

“Now would be a good time.”

And then Gavin heard the roar somewhere above them. It sounded familiar. Apparently the AI tanks had auditory sensors as both of their turrets re-adjusted to find the source of the sound and establish if it was a threat.

Gavin looked up and saw the bright white moon through the skylight 10 meters above his head. The moon disappeared as something moved in to block it out. He recognized it. “Hot Rod!”

The SAFVe descended and crashed the skylight.

Shards of razor sharp transparent aluminum rained down below.

Mech pushed Gavin down and he could feel her weight on top of him. Small and large shards landed all around him, a particularly nasty looking one landed with such force that the sharp end lodged itself into the ground no two inches from his nose.

Gavin exhaled noticeably.

Everything happened very quickly after that. Mech pulled him up onto his feet and pushed something into his hand.

“Hold on.”

He did but realized what it was only after he had been yanked clean off the ground. It was a rope, having been dropped from the SAFVe above. While he was on the floor Mech had slipped the end of it under his right food and now he was being lifted upwards effortlessly.

Mech was close to his side, holding on to a similar rope.

He looked down and instantly whished he hadn’t done so. The tanks opened fire and bright and angrily pulsating blue light were heading their way.

Gavin felt immense heat on his skin and he would later find out that some of his hair had been singed away. The blast ripped open a gaping hole into the ceiling somewhere behind him.

Then they were clear of the warehouse and under dark, wide-open skies. Not a few moments later Mech climbed onto the loading deck of the SAFVe and pulled Gavin inside as well. He collapsed on the deck exhausted.

“You guys alright?” asked Hot Rod, looking back from the cockpit.

“I think so,” said Gavin in-between heavily labored breaths.

“Good,” she said and turned back to her instruments. “Because I just seriously scratched up the paint job on this baby. I’m never going to live this down with maintenance.”

Gavin couldn’t help himself and burst out laughing.

Mech smiled as she removed large shards of transparent aluminum from her back and legs. “I’m glad you had fun too,” she said and threw the pieces casually out of the open door.

Gavin stood up slowly watching her injured body. There wasn’t a single drop of blood even as some of the shards had lodged themselves deep into her. Her face didn’t show any sign of pain.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

She nodded. “Flesh wounds,” she said with a smirk and walked towards the cockpit to take a seat next to Hot Rod.

Once Gavin was sure his feet wouldn’t give in under him he followed her, still somewhat shook up by his near death experience. He wanted to thank Mech for shielding him earlier but she had not given him the opportunity.

“It looks like you’re not the only ones to run into trouble tonight,” said Hot Rod after Mech had taken the co-pilot seat. “We’ve got a crisis over in the city. The entire galaxy is already talking about it.”

“What happened?” asked Gavin who took up position between the two women.

“Nyuchiban terrorists have taken hostages at FedPlaza. The old man wants you back there asap,” she explained even while she steered the SAFVe northbound again.

“Hostages?” repeated Gavin with disbelieve. He had never heard of hostages being taken in San Francisco or anywhere else on Earth for that matter. At least not in his lifetime. He immediately checked the newsfeeds and sure enough, they were all talking about the same thing. “Incredible.”

<Chief, Mech here. What’s your situation?>

Masamune replied almost instantly. <Good to hear from you. Where have you been?>

<Gavin and I followed up a lead outside the city. We ran into a little bit of resistance.>

Yeah, right. Just a little bit, thought Gavin who was listening in. Don’t make it a big deal, we only almost got incinerated today.

<Your report will have to wait,> said Masamune. <A group of terrorist who have identified themselves as members of the so-called Freedom for Nyuchiba Society have taken 58 hostages at Federation Plaza and are demanding immediate withdrawal of all Federation personnel from Nyuchiban space. They are threatening to kill one hostage every hour until these demands have been met. The first one is to be executed within the next 20 minutes.>

<This is insane,> said Gavin. <Nobody is going to make anything happened within the next few minutes.>

<Slade and Tank are inside the building but we have lost contact with them some time ago,> continued Masamune.

Gavin didn’t like the sound of that. But he trusted Tank and Slade. If they were already inside there was a good chance that they would be able to foil the terrorists’ plans before they had a chance to make good on their threat. After all who in their right mind would dare to go up against Tank?

<What’s the plan, chief?> Gavin asked.

< Sadly we are still squabbling over jurisdiction here. Tessier seems determined to call the shots on this one.>

<Chief, I’ve got a bad feeling about this,> said Mech. <I’ve come across a computer terminal which we have good reason to believe is linked to Grayson and possibly Whren. I found detailed floor plans there. I could be mistaken but I think they were for FedPlaza.>

That was news to Gavin. <Hold on, are you saying Starfleet might be involved in this?>

<We can’t rule it out,> she said.

<What about the tri-cobalt residue?> asked Gavin.

Mech nodded. <If we take this theory to its logical conclusion I’d say that the tri-cobalt residue we found might have been from a bomb to be used at FedPlaza.>

<And Starfleet is getting ready to storm the building. If you are right, it might be wired to detonate when that happens,> concluded the chief.

<That doesn’t make any sense,> said Gavin. <If Starfleet is behind this then they also know about the bomb. Why would they still want to raid the building?>

Masamune didn’t have an answer to this. <I don’t know. But we have to find a way to disable the bomb if that’s what we are dealing with here. Bobby and Eldex are trying to work on a way to re-establish contact with our people inside FedPlaza. I want you to head back to the civic center and pick up a strike team. In the meantime I’ll try to delay Starfleet from carrying out their planned assault.>

<What about the first hostage?> said Gavin.

<There is little we can do for them. We have to hope that Tank and Slade will come up with something.>

_ _ _ _​
 
I'm intrigued as to what exactly Grayson and Whrenn's game is--and it is a most dangerous game. I'm getting coup whiffs here...
 
Our heroes look like they're going to wind up in even more trouble before this plays out. And power plays almost make a tense situation more dangerous. Fed trumps local, doesn't look like anything changes in the next three hundred years.
 
033 – “It’s A Long Way Down.”


Tank couldn’t remember ever having been more uncomfortable than during his trip through the restrictive maintenance hatch. It took him a good ten minutes to navigate the space and he felt immense relief when he emerged in a similar washroom he had departed from, presumably on the next floor.

He momentarily considered to get Kara and Jack but he dreaded having to use the shaft again. Besides there wasn’t much time. He had to get to the roof.

He found the floor layout simple enough with large signs directing him towards the main exit. Using the elevators would have been his first choice as it would have allowed him to reach the roof quickly. But he had to believe that if these people were professional enough to jam his communications than they probably could also monitor the elevators.

The safer bet was the staircase and tackling the remaining 73 floors on foot. Compared to his agonizing experience in the maintenance shaft this would be a breeze. The only problem was time. The terrorists had it, he did not.

Fully cognizant of his main handicap he still paused when he reached the doors that led into the staircase. His sensitive hearing had registered a soft noise coming from behind the door. It was quite possible the terrorists had posted sentries in the stairs but rather unlikely that they were covering all floors.

Tank couldn’t afford to find another way. He reached for his weapon and slowly opened the door. He pushed it open a few inches but could find nothing behind it. Then with one swift push he opened it all the way, instantly bringing his Super Seven to bear on whoever he would find.

Somebody had been waiting for him.

He could feel the cold metal of a gun barrel pushing into the back of his neck.

“Bastard,” Tank mumbled. Somebody had been hiding right next to the door in the staircase, patiently waiting for him to make the first move. Now he had him dead to rights and for all his large build and strength, Tank knew that he could not survive a point blank shot to his neck, no matter the weapon.

“Your impulsiveness is going to get you killed one of these days.”

Angry Tank whipped around. Truth be told he was ecstatic to find that it was Slade and not one of the terrorists. He had not particularly enjoyed the prospect of going out by being shot in the back thanks to his own foolishness. Of course he would hide those feelings well in front of his anal retentive colleague. “You damn bastard,” he said but kept his voice down, after all the real terrorist were just a floor below. “What the hell are you trying to do?”

Slade secured his weapon. “I had no way of knowing it was you,” Slade shot back, equally upset now. His face was covered with a film of sweat and for the first time Tank noticed that he was clearly out of breath. He must have climbed the stairs from the ground floor in record time.

“Why’d you come up here anyway?” asked Tank, normalizing his voice. “You should have tried to get help.”

“Not an option. Whoever these people are, they sealed off all exits before I had a chance to get out. Comms are down as well. What do you know about the situation?”

Slade had gone back in full team leader mode but Tank didn’t care at the moment. Technically Slade still outranked him in CCiD even after his recent demotion and Slade was a man born to give orders.

“Nyuchiban terrorist. They’ve taken the FNTA members hostage and already made demands. I don’t know what they are but they have moved some of the hostages to the roof.”

Slade glanced upwards. There were nearly as many steps left going up then going down. He didn’t like the prospect of climbing them as well. He knew he had no choice. “If they want to kill any of the hostages the most dramatic way to do that would be from the roof.”

Tank nodded.

“Let’s go.”

But before Slade could take a single step Tank put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “No offense, but you look awful. I’ll go ahead and you catch up with me as soon as you can.”

Slade apparently didn’t like this. “You can’t take them by yourself.”

A glint in Tank’s eyes said otherwise. “We don’t have time to argue. If you can keep up fine but I’m going full speed,” he said and moved out before Jackson Slade could protest again.

Slade watched the massive man practically leaping up the first flight in one jump and immediately knew that there was no keeping up with him.

Tank for his part gave no second thought to Slade as he rushed up the staircase. He had wasted enough time and could ill afford for anything or anyone to slow him down further. If he ran into a terrorist sentry he would have to overwhelm them quickly. He was looking forward to that.

The mini-servos in his cybernetic legs moved him upwards faster and allowed him to jump higher than most other people could. He reached the end of the staircase in just about under five minutes, smirking at the idea that it probably had taken Slade three times that to get to the 75th floor.

The last door he found was computer controlled and sealed without any means to open it. He slipped his fingers inside the door panels – not an easy task as his fingers were rather thick – and pushed the two parts open easily. They had not been designed to keep out the likes of Tank.

Behind it he found a maze of maintenance corridors and pipe work forming part of the environmental systems. The lights here were dim, allowing for too many shadows. But Tank doubted the terrorist were hiding, after all they had no reason to assume somebody else was still in the building. There had been no attack from the outside as far as he could tell and transporters clearly didn’t work, otherwise the hostages would have been beamed to safety a long time ago.

The sting of embarrassment of being caught off-guard by Slade still nagging at his pride he was determined not to make the same mistake again. So he sacrificed expediency for caution as he moved slowly through the maintenance labyrinth, trying to find the roof exit.

He swept each intersecting corridor carefully, always keeping his gun in front of him, ready to fire without a moment’s notice.

A steady draft alerted him to the right direction. Soon after he found the lift and an open access door to the roof. He listened closely and was sure he could hear gentle sobs somewhere beyond the door, nearly drowned out by the sound of clunky equipment bouncing in the wind.

He approached quietly and pushed his back against the wall next to the roof access. Tank spied around the corner and saw a heavily armed man standing with his back to him, guarding the door. Just a few meter beyond cowered four of the hostages, two men and two women. They had some cuts and bruises but nothing serious. Some may have tried to put up a fight.

He could see no other terrorists but that most certainly didn’t mean that there were not more of them. He chastised himself for not having asked Jack – or Oshii, or whatever – how many terrorists exactly had boarded the elevator.

Tank decided to strike. The opportunity was not perfect but if he waited too long he would run the risk of one of his opponents coming up from behind him.

He secured his gun and slipped behind the man guarding the roof access and used his huge arm to put him into a choke hold. If he cut the man’s air supply off for a few seconds it would be enough to render him unconscious. A tactic Tank was very familiar with and had plenty of practice with.

It didn’t work.

The man struggled wordlessly and refused to go down. Tank was getting annoyed. He let the man go, ripped the rifle out of his hand and smashed him across the face with it. He felt backwards, against the wall and sagged down to the floor.

Satisfied Tank went into a crouch and slowly back paddled into the door frame. The knocked out terrorist lay motionless at his side. He didn’t give him another look. Instead he fumbled for the power cell of what looked like a plasma rifle, removed it and placed both the cell and the weapon on the ground. Then he reached for his Seburo again and slowly took in his surroundings.

The hostages had spotted him now and some of them were beginning to stand, surprised by the appearance of their savior and prompted into movement by their own fear.

Tank motioned them to stop and stay where they were. They complied hesitantly.

The MSD officer pointed at the incapacitated man at his side.

One of the hostages seemed to understand. He held out two fingers.

Tank nodded and then forked his own fingers and pointed towards his eyes.

The man shook his head, he didn’t know where the other terrorist was.

Wherever he was hiding, Tank knew that it was very likely he had heard him take out his friend. His subtle approach in taking out his opponent had not worked and the second attempt had been a lot nosier. But Tank had no choice, he had to get into the open and get those hostages out of there.

He stepped out slowly, keeping his gun trained on the many empty and concealed spaces on the large roof were somebody could be hiding. There were a number of maintenance buildings, environmental and power units as well as a dozen spires, reaching further into the skies. Stairs led down onto lower levels of the roof and one staircase led up to a shuttle landing platform.

“Ok, we’re going to get you out of here,” he said quietly as he approached the hostages, his eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. “I need you to remain calm and do exactly as I –“

He saw the sudden glimmer of bright angry energy a split second too late. He tried to push himself to the ground but the plasma burst still struck his right arm.

The hostages screamed.

Tank didn’t. He fell painfully to the ground and the sensors which doubled as nerves in his cybernetic arm informed his brain of massive damage. Thankfully his enhancers shut off those sensors immediately before his brain could interpret those signals as agonizing pain.

“Get back, get back,” he yelled to the hostages even while he was still lying on his back in the open. “Get behind cover,” he said and indicated towards a large cooling unit which would shield them from the sniper.

They did as they were told.

Tank’s left arm was useless as a half of the upper part had been ripped open, revealing the intricate and now catastrophically damaged circuitry. But his left arm, the one which he used to fire his gun was undamaged. He lifted it and fired a few rounds into the general direction of the sniper.

He had taken position on top of the landing platform but Tank’s heads-up display was unable to locate him. Still the shots were enough to keep him from firing a second time while Tank threw himself behind a thick utility pipe for cover.

The second blast came quicker than he had anticipated and ripped a large hole into the pipe, releasing a stream of superheated gas. Tank fired again, the thick white gas helping to mask him, but again his target kept out of sight.

The gas was beginning to heat the air around him and Tank had to move. He did so quickly, running alongside the pipe until he was out of the sniper’s view. He leaped onto a ledge halfway up the back of a maintenance building and then pushed himself off to jump even higher.

The platform came back into view and he noticed the thick pipe running alongside it. He fired where he believed the sniper was hiding even while he glided through the air. The gas and the duranium bullets didn’t mix well and the resulting explosion forced the sniper away from her hiding spot and into the open.

Tank landed on his feet, his heads-up display now locked in on his exposed target. He fired two round but the woman sniper refused to go down, instead she was pushed backwards by the force of the impact.

He had no time to wonder why the bullets hadn’t downed the woman. She was brining her plasma rifle up to fire at the equally exposed Tank. He doubted that he could survive taking a hit square into his chest.

So he fired again, three, four, five times, pushing her backwards still. The sixed bullet put her over the edge of the platform and she fell. Tank noticed she didn’t scream, even when she hit a ledge head first. She bounced slightly and then fell further and onto a lower roof level some twenty meters below.

Tank had to assume she was dead.

He had no time to confirm the kill. A high-pitched scream made him turn his head. A third terrorist had appeared where the hostages had been hiding.

Tank cursed himself. He had misinterpreted the signal earlier. The man had meant to say that there were two more terrorists not two in total as he had assumed.

The man who looked surprisingly similar to the first terrorist he had taken down had reached for the hostage who had signaled him earlier and was pushing him towards the edge of the roof. The other hostages had wisely moved away, nobody quite bold enough to attempt and save their colleague.

Tank dropped from the building he stood on and landed in a crouch on the floor, his gun always leveled at the terrorist. He did not have a clear shot however. The hostage was being used as an effective shield.

“Let him go. The game’s over, your two pals are out cold,” said Tank but held little hope that his words would yield results. These terrorists were surprisingly disciplined.

“Please, help me,” the man whimpered.

Tank slowly approached the duo even while they continued backwards and towards the edge of the roof. “Let him go,” Tank repeated.

But the terrorist didn’t talk. He didn’t say anything, wasn’t even bargaining as Tank had expected. He hadn’t asked for him to stop or even to lower his weapon.

Tank realized that the terrorist had no interest in self-preservation. He was going to carry out the one and only objective he had.

Tank moved in. “Get down,” he shouted at the scared man.

But before the hostage could even think of complying he was flung aside.

Tank fired two bullets into the terrorist’s head the moment he had revealed himself. The man went down into a heap but not before the hostage had been tossed into the air and towards the ledge.

Tank jumped, willing his legs to push him farther and higher than they had ever been designed to. Both of them went over the edge and landed on a flat, steeply slanted glass surface and slid downwards. Tank let go of his gun and reached out with his good arm. His heavier body sliding along faster than that of the man he was trying to save. Another second or two and he would be able to hold on to him.

There were mere inches between them now.

And then another thought pushed into his mind. He had only one working arm and he needed it to hold on to the man. How would he stop from sliding over the edge? There was no purchase to be had anywhere.

He decided to worry about that after he had his man.

He reached out once more, straining his arm as far as it would go and grabbed hold of his jacket. He tried to bring him closer by pulling his arm back when the fabric of the jacket tore and he was left with nothing but a few shreds of clothing.

The glass roof gave away abruptly and the man went over.

With unbridled anger at his own failure Tank smashed his fist into the glass, inadvertently also saving his own life as his hand found a frame and held on, stopping his forward momentum inches from the ledge.

The agonizing scream of the man falling to his death was a sound Tank would not soon forget.

--------------------------------------------------

This post concludes Part Two.

Barely Human: Shadow Plays will return soon with the third and final part.
 
Getting almost all of the hostages out isn't quite good enough, is it? Even though Tank did all he could, that's not much consolation, is it?
 
Barley-Human-001-(v2).png



What is Barely Human?

Barely Human was a proposed limited series of six stories which fused Star Trek with cyber-punk elements and was set primarily on Earth.

I began posting the first story, ‘Shadow Plays’ way back in 2007 very much as an experiment and to see how people felt about a Star Trek story which had very little in common with what most people associate with one.

Not only did it not feature any starships or space stations, it focused on a civilian law enforcement unit and an evolving mystery around the gradual ‘cybernization’ of the Federation.

Ultimately I stopped working on this in favor of other projects. However it never set quite right with me to leave the story unfinished and I have since decided to complete the first story.

Shadow Plays introduced us to Mech or LT, a former cop and mercenary, who is being hunted through cyber-space (known as FedNet) by parties unknown.

At the same time a newly created law enforcement unit in San Francisco (CCiD) is pursuing a powerful criminal believed to be behind a new cybernetic designer drug (stims) and seemingly supported by an influential businessman and anti-Federation activist (Michael Gary Grayson).

If you are interested to learn more about Barely Human, you can read the article at the Star Trek Expanded Universe wiki.


Read the revised Part 1 and Part 2 of Shadow Plays at StarEagleAdventures.com

Read the third and final part starting February 11 right here.




Previously on Shadow Plays (includes spoilers):

The Federation president is under pressure from the Council to keep ‘cybernization’, the practice of augmenting persons with cybernetic technology, out of Starfleet and the Federation.

At the same time the administration is forced to deal with an erupting civil war in the Nychiba Confederacy, a close Federation ally and a former colony which operates on a monetary-based economy and in which cybernization is rampant.

In the meantime, Mech has been recruited by her former boss on Nychiba, Tessho Masamune, to head his newly formed Cyber Crime Division of San Francisco’s Municipal Safety Department after they learn that the person who had been trying to have her eliminated, an Andorian Starfleet Officer named Whren, is inexplicably linked to Michael Gary Grayson, an influential business man believed to be behind the city’s stims problem.

As they try to uncover the links between Starfleet and Grayson, a group of proclaimed Nychiban freedom fighters has taken over Fed Plaza, San Fran’s tallest building, threatening to kill their hostages unless their demands are met.

With Tank and Slade, two CCiD operatives, already inside the building, Mech suspects that the entire building might be rigged with explosives as she rushes to the scene.

Meanwhile, Starfleet Admiral Selina Tessier has no intention on standing on the sidelines and letting Masamune’s team take the lead, especially since one hostages has already been killed, thrown off the roof of Fed Plaza, the deadly fall broadcasted live on Federation-wide newsfeeds.


Shadow Plays continues February 11​
 
PART THREE​



034 – “The Buck Stops Here.”


“The following footage is disturbing and we strongly advise that young children and persons sensitive to violent material do not watch it.

Just minutes ago at 2205 Federation Standard Time the hostage takers at Fed Plaza in San Francisco made good on their threat and executed their first hostage. We have obtained the following dramatic footage.”

The newscasters disappeared from the screen to show the now well-lit exterior of the Federation Plaza super-scraper, the image focused on the 74th floor. A small caption at the bottom of screen gave proof that this had happened less than two minutes ago.

The voice of Silvia Sanchez could be heard speaking softly off screen. “If we try to get into one of these buildings over there we might get a better shot at –“

Screams interrupted her and the image quickly jerked upwards, focusing in on the roof of Fed Plaza where an object appeared to have come over the edge and now tumbled towards the ground in a free fall.

“Are you getting this?” asked Sanchez. “What is it?” And then she and everyone else realized for the first time what they were looking at. “My God,” she croaked, her voice failing her now.

But the image stayed with the falling man, his own scream now louder and more terrifying that those of the excited crowd of spectators.

Then, just as it became clear what the inevitable outcome had to be, the entire crowd fell silent as the hostage's last moments of life rapidly approached.

Moments before the camera would have captured the deadly impact the image blanked out.

Seconds later a visibly shaken up Silvia Sanchez appeared. A new caption made clear that this footage was coming live from San Francisco. “We can now confirm that one of the hostages has been killed by falling to his death from the top of Fed Plaza. At this time there is no way to know for certain if the man was pushed or if it was an accident. But the timing of the incident seems to be … it appears consistent …” she hesitated momentarily, clearly still shaken from having witnessed a persons’ death just moments before. “It seems consistent with the statement released by the terrorists earlier that one hostage would be killed every hour until their demands have been met.”

“Has the identity of the victim been confirmed?” asked the Trill newscaster, now visible in a little inset image.

“No, we do not know the identity of the victim but judging from the brief glimpse of what we’ve just seen, Jaxon, I think it is safe to say it was one of the hostages.”

“We’ve all seen the disturbing images and I can only imagine how horrific it must have been to witness that take place right in front of you. But was there nothing that could have been done to save that man?”

“I cannot say at this point, Jaxon. There was much activity here among the authorities and rescue workers when the incident took place mere moments ago and in fact there still is,” she said and the image shifted away to show a scurry of first responders, peace officers, military and Starfleet officers as well as members of other organizations. The general area in which the hostage would have collided with the ground was not blocked off from view by half a dozen emergency vehicles. Any rescue attempts at this point had to be about retrieving the body however.

“What I can tell you at this juncture and what you might have observed,” Sanchez continued over the images of busy rescue personnel, “is that there appeared to be no attempt to beam the hostages away and to safety during the fall, something that under normal circumstances should have been an easy way to save his life. This is leading me to believe that transporters cannot be used to attempt to rescue any of the hostages. If that is true, it would make this situation a lot more serious –“

The sound of the broadcast went silent after Sill had activated the muting controls. “I believe the situation qualifies as very serious already. A person was just killed on a live newsfeed on Earth in front of a billions viewers.”

“Mister President, please accept my government’s and my personal condolences as well as my deepest sympathies,” said Ambassador Fujiwara who was the only other person in the president’s office. “This is an despicable and unacceptable crime.”

President Kentii’la, sitting in his chair, was still watching the silent images on the screen as if he had been unable to believe what had just happened. At the moment he was nothing more than one of the billion stunned viewers who had just watched the unthinkable happen.

“I will of course issue a public statement as soon as possible to denounce these acts and proclaim that the Nyuchiban Confederacy is outraged by the actions of these criminals and in complete support of the people of the Federation. If I may be so humble as to suggest a joint press conference to show our support.”

“I think it would be a bit soon for that at this stage. This is a tragedy we barely know anything about. We haven’t even seen our own response to it yet,” said the president’s Bolian advisor.

“You must take a strong stance against acts of terrorism as quickly as possible,” the ambassador said. “The media will use this occasion to endlessly probe and question your administration and your willingness to take action in face of such heinous acts.”

Sill seemed to take offense by that. “With all due respects, Mister Ambassador, but our media does not work like yours. They are not sensationalists who are solely interested in their ratings.”

“Perhaps that is because they never had spectacular news to report, Mister Sill. Our people are not as different as you might think. The nikkeijin are mostly human as you know and all that divide us, is merely philosophical. But now is the time to show our true unity, just as when we fought side by side during the War.”

Sill knew immediately what the ambassador was after. Fujiwara was still a politician and as such he was not beneath exploiting a tragedy for his own agenda.

The president apparently realized this too. “Mister Ambassador,” he said in his usual slow speech. “We are most grateful for your support and sympathy and will give your request all due consideration. In the meantime there is much I need to do as should be obvious given our current situation. We will contact you once we have made a decision.”

The short nikkeijin bowed slightly. “I will use that time to liaise with my government. Thank you, Mister President,” he said and then hastily left the office.

No sooner had he left did the voice of the president’s chief receptionist fill the office. “Mister President, I have Admiral Selina Tessier for you on a priority channel. Would you like to take the call?”

“Yes, please put her through.”

Sill stepped closer to the desk, apparently very much interested himself what she had to say about this situation.

“Thank you for taking my call, Mister President,” said he admiral.

“Admiral, what is your situation? We have just witnessed a person killed on a newsfeed watched by billions of Federation citizens. Your people are on scene, how could they not have prevented this?” said Sill, jumping into the conversation without preamble.

“Mister Sill, the situation here on the ground is as bit more complicated than the newsfeeds make it out. I assure you we have attempted everything within our power to try and save that man.”

“Obviously that was not enough,” Sill shot back.

This apparently left Tessier momentarily speechless.

The president raised his hand to let his advisor know to back off. “Admiral, do you have any plans underway to end this crisis before anymore hostages might come to harm?”

To her credit Tessier didn’t hesitate, keeping her voice free off annoyance when speaking to Kentii’la directly. “Sir, we have a plan in place which we could implement immediately and which I believe will resolve this hostage situation quickly and successfully with a minimal loss of additional lives. However the longer we delay, the slimmer the chance of success.”

“I don’t understand,” said Sill and gave the president a puzzled look. “What is keeping you from implementing your plan?”

“The issue of jurisdiction is not entirely clear. We have various agencies on scene each convinced that they are in charge. Sir, I’ll be honest, I have not had the time to look through all the laws and regulations on this subject but I can tell you that nobody else has the resources in place right now to bring an end to this crisis except for Starfleet. If we were to wait until all issues of jurisdiction have been resolved it might be too late for those hostages.”

“Admiral,” the president said, “what do you need me to do for you take immediate action?”

Tessier hesitated for just a second. “I would need an executive order to give me the authority to take overall situational command.”

“Consider the order given.”

There was another slight pause. “In writing,” she said and then hastily added. “Sir.”

The president allowed himself a rare smirk after he realized that even Tessier had a little bit of a politician inside of her. She wanted this crisis resolved as much as everybody else but she knew how to cover herself. “Understood, Admiral. Be ready to implement your plan at a moment’s notice. You will have the order within minutes.”

“Thank You, Mister President.”

Sill terminated the link.

“Sir, I am a little bit concerned about this order. This administration has never issued an executive order before. Certainly not in a domestic situation. The people might see this as an overly authoritarian and overreaching move on our behalf.”

“This is an unprecedented crisis. The people will understand the need for swift action from their president,” he said. “But you are right, we need to address this issue in a clear manner. I want you to draft a public statement. Also contact your friends at the UE General Assembly to make them aware of our actions.”

Sill nodded.

“But first ensure that the admiral gets her order as quickly as possible. I’m not willing to risk more casualties due to the ineptitude of our bureaucracy.”

“I will get on that right away. What about the ambassador’s request?”

The president shook his head. “We do not have time for gestures and political subtleties right now. The ambassador is sadly mistaken if he thinks that Federation-Nyuchiban relations are a priority at this time.”


* * *​
 
Glad to see you revisit "Shadow Plays," CeJay. I always thought it was an imaginative and original story line.

I thought the media point-of-view was an effective way of kicking off part 3. The death of a hostage - tragic in itself - adds a touch of sensationalism (and realism, sadly) to the reporter's coverage.

The political maneuvering also rang true. It seems everyone is in cover-their a** mode, including Admiral Tessier (not that I blame her). The question is whether this will help the situation or hinder a resolution.

Good stuff, CeJay!
 
Thanks, TLR.

I was naturally concerned of what a 3 year hiatus would mean for this story. I'm glad that you are getting a chance to check it out again.

I'm determined to finish this story even if it is for no other reason as to give it some form of closure.
 
035 – “Gotta Go Up In Order To Go Down.“


“We’re approaching Civic Center. Sly has assembled a strike team which will board as soon as we touch down,” said Hot Rod as she steered the SAFVe towards the brightly lit landing platform on top of MSD headquarters.

Gavin was focusing on Fed Plaza a few dozen blocks away. The massive tower was easy to spot any time of day but was practically unmissable now, as it was lit up by a plethora of bright spotlights, making the building the unquestionable focus of the city. The entire Federation tonight, I bet, thought Gavin.

Mech looked over the team as they prepared to land. Including Sylvester Martinez, there were ten of them, most of which Mech realized she hadn’t even had time to be introduced to yet. They all wore black tactical vests and matching outfits and were armed with the new Seburo handguns strapped to their backs as well as the more powerful yet less reliable assault rifles.

She understood that for many of them, this would be the first time that they were tested in such a manner, executing a rapid and precise tactical strike against a presumably well-armed enemy holding a large number of hostages. Mech knew that they had trained for these kind of situations, and they had done a halfway decent job when they had assaulted the factory on Treasure Island, but Fed Plaza was an entirely different kind of playground with the stakes were much higher.

Mech stepped next to Gavin who still had his eyes on the brightly lit tower which was going to be their ultimate destination. “Are you ready?” she asked.

The young man gave her a surprised look. “Yeah, sure.”

She shot him a small smile, letting him know that she knew otherwise.

“A bit nervous, I suppose.”

“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

“So I take it you’ve done these kind of things before,” he said.

She nodded.

“Good. Means you know what you’re doing.”

The SAFVe touched down on the landing pad and Sylvester and the rest of the team promptly boarded the vessel.

“We’re still going in there pretty much blind. We have people on the inside but no way of communicating with them. We have no idea how many terrorists we’re dealing with or what kind of weapons they have. We also have to assume the entire building might be wired to be blown to hell and we don’t know on what kind of timetable these guys are operating on.”

The rookie CCiD agent gave her a blank stare.

“Other than that,” she said and gave him that sweet smile again. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“If I may say so,” he said. “You make a for a great team leader but you really need to work on your inspirational speechmaking.”

Hot Rod had the SAFVe back in the air in less than a minute, the time it took the rest of the team to board, and she was already steering the shuttle towards the part of town in which the Federation tower stood.

Mech shrugged her shoulders. “Never been good at speeches,” she said. “But listen. You did fine at Grayson’s compound. Just stick close to me, follow my orders and you will be alright.”

Gavin gave him a sharp nod. And then before she could turn away he asked. “Are you nervous about this?”

She thought about that for just a moment, as if trying to consider the right response first. Then she nodded. “Doesn’t work any other way.”

He smiled at that. Gavin wasn’t sure what he had hoped to hear from their seemingly fearless and capable leader. Perhaps he had wanted reassurance that this was just another Thursday night for her. That she had done these kinds of things a thousand times before and that it was nothing more than routine by now. That she was somehow super-human which after all wasn’t a far-fetched notion after he’d had a chance to observe her in action over the last couple of days. And yet her admission that she still retained part of her flawed humanity was a surprising comfort to him now. No, she didn’t give good speeches, but she inspired confidence nevertheless.

“We may have a problem here,” said Hot Rod from the cockpit.

Mech and Gavin exchanged one last look and then moved to the front of the shuttle to find out what Rodgers had been concerned about.

The Jamaican pilot pointed at the gleaming white shuttles which appeared to hover around Fed Plaza. “Looks like Starfleet has sealed off the airspace around our target,” she said.

“It’s a prudent call,” said Gavin. “But how do we get there. Starfleet isn’t exactly our biggest fan judging from our last encounters.”

<Sir, we have a problem with Starfleet. Any chance you could work something on your end?> said Mech through her internal comm.-unit.

Masmune responded immediately. <Doesn’t look good. Tessier has all but taken command over here and from the looks of it she’s secured a presidential order to give her full jurisdiction. So far she has resisted any notion to accept our assistance.>

<Chief,> said Gavin who could easily listen in to the conversation through his own enhancer. <Do you want us to abort to wait and see what Starfleet does?>

<I don’t think we can afford to wait. If you are right and there really is a bomb in the building than we might have a lot less time than we have been led to believe. Also, it looks as if the terrorists have just made good on their threat and killed one hostage by throwing him off the roof. So you tell me now: Can you get in there, free the remaining hostages and prevent Fed Plaza being turned into rubble or not?>

Gavin as well as Hot Rod and Sylvester who had joined the others by the cockpit turned their full attention towards Mech. The LT for her part didn’t need long to think about that question. <If we can get into that building, we can do it,> she said and looked at their pilot.

“It’s all on me then, huh?” she said. “Way to put pressure on a girl.” She turned to her instruments, pressed a few panels and then looked out of the windshield to take in the scene before them. After a few more moments she nodded. “Yeah, I can get around’em but it ain’t gonna be pretty.”

“What does that mean?” Gavin wanted to know.

Hot Rod just smiled, revealing two rows of pearly whites.

<Chief, we are ready to roll on our end,> Mech said, apparently not requiring and further explanation.

<Then go. And Mech. No solo heroics on this one. Get in there, get those hostages and get out. If you find that bomb, try to stop it but the hostages are your primary objective. Understood?>

<Understood,> she said and then terminated the link, full well knowing that once they approached Fed Plaza they would no longer be able to communicate. Then she turned to the pilot. “Hot Rod, do your thing.”

The woman had a gleam in her eye when she gave her response with a nod. “You got it, LT. Everybody find something to hang on to. And try to hold your dinner, ladies and gents. I just had this thing cleaned.”

“What?” asked Gavin confused.

But Hot Rod had already engaged the vessel’s main thrusters, catapulting it to speeds multiple times the speed of sound within seconds.

Gavin hung on to dear life as he felt the relentless g-forces trying to turn his insides into mush. That’s what it must feel like to travel at warp speed without inertial dampers, he thought.

And just as he thought the worst was behind them, Hot Rod angled the shuttle upwards at a steep angle, adding gravity to the mix as hey rapidly climbed into the moonlit San Francisco night sky.

“I … I don’t understand,” Gavin managed to say. “Where are … we going?” his voice was like a stutter to his own ears.

Mech seemed to know the answer. “With the airspace closed off, there is only one way to approach Fed Plaza.”

Gavin peeked out of a window, realizing that they had climbed hundreds of meters in just a few seconds. “Uh Hot Rod, you do realize that the SA in SAFVe stands for sub-atmospheric, right?”

“Chillax, brother, we’ll only be up here for a moment or so. Air will be bit tight and you might feel a little weightless. Just hold on and enjoy the stars.”

No sooner had Hot Rod spoken, did Gavin feel gravity lose its hold and his feet lift off from the deck plate. “Woah,” he exclaimed in surprise. Like most humans, Gavin had been to space plenty of times but thanks to artificial gravity, he had never had never experienced zero-g conditions before and for a moment he panicked.

Then he saw the LT’s face and found a huge, almost child-like grin on her face. She was loving this. And to underscore the point, she pushed herself off completely and performed a quick mid-air roll. She made it look easy too and Gavin couldn’t help but smirk at her unexpected playfulness. He was however not quite bold enough to try and follow her example. Instead he held on tightly to a handhold to keep himself in place.

“Okay, if you thought going up was tough. Brace yourselves for the going down part,” said Hot Rod.

The nose of the SAFVe turned downwards and the main thrusters kicked back in, catapulting them back towards the surface.

Gavin’s stomach lurched, ready to familiarize him with his last meal. Along with the rest of the team, he was pushed so hard against the bulkhead, he could barely move a muscle and for as he watched the City at the Bay, racing up to greet them at breakneck speeds, he was certain beyond a shadow of doubt, that they would smash into the ground with such force, it would leave a crater the size of the moon.

He remained mistaken and just moments after this insane journey had begun, Hot Rod leveled the shuttle off and Gavin realized that they were coming to hover just a hundred feet or so above Fed Plaza.

“Everybody still in one piece?” she asked over her shoulder.

“I’ll ask my brain once it has dislodged itself from my toes,” said Gavin and needed a few deep breaths to compose himself again.

Hot Rod laughed. “You better get ready. We may have been able to circumvent the Starfleet blockade but they’re not blind. They’ll know we’re here in a few moments.”

Mech nodded and quickly strapped on her tactical vest and reached for a spare TJ-7 rifle. “Put us about fifty feet over the roof and we’ll drop down. Once we’re in we won’t be able to communicate but we’ll need you to come back to evacuate the hostages.”

Hot Rod nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll have to play hide-n’-seek with Starfleet for a while. Just tell me where and when you need me and I’ll be there.”

“Stay on overwatch until we are inside. Then give us thirty minutes and get to 74th floor on the west side the building.”

“I’ll be there.”

The LT turned towards her assault team. “Alright folks, strap in and get ready to drop. Assume there are hostiles on the roof and fire on sight.”


* * *​
 
I always thought this was one of the most unique Trek fanfics. Not only is it set on Earth, but it doesn't focus on Starfleet officers. It's an interesting view of the Federation.
 
Nice bit of flying to circumvent the Starfleet blockade. I'm sure there will be ramifications aplenty, regardless of the success or failure of their mission.

And that begs the question, what happens if they run into a Starfleet Security team?

Hope no one has an itchy trigger finger. :rolleyes:

More, please. :)
 
Dnoth said:
I always thought this was one of the most unique Trek fanfics. Not only is it set on Earth, but it doesn't focus on Starfleet officers. It's an interesting view of the Federation.
Click to expand...

Thanks, Dnoth. Hope you get a chance to follow this to completion. It's been a long time coming.

TheLoneRedshirt said:
Nice bit of flying to circumvent the Starfleet blockade. I'm sure there will be ramifications aplenty, regardless of the success or failure of their mission.

And that begs the question, what happens if they run into a Starfleet Security team?

Hope no one has an itchy trigger finger. :rolleyes:

More, please. :)
Click to expand...

Oh I trust the CCiD agents but those Starfleet folks, I'm not so sure about. Thanks for reading. More coming soon.
 
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