TTITLE: The Old-Fashioned Way
AUTHOR: MikeJaffa
SYNPOSIS: Answer to Cyberpunk Planet Challenge: Rutherford is in coma because of a computer virus, and Mariner hunts for the one responsible
DISCLAIMER: Star Trek: Lower Decks is owned by Paramount (I think). I am making no money off this fic.
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A wise Starfleet engineer had once told his captain one cannot change the laws of physics. That held true for the physics of motion, and momentum, of thrust, drag, lift, and gravity. So it was that in the last quarter of the 24th century, when liquid- and solid-fueled booster rockets had long since been supplanted by impulse engines and inertial dampers by species that traveled the stars, the captains of starships that landed on planets took every little “boost” from nature they could get. On a planet with a rotational period of about one Terran solar day, starship captains preferred to take off and land on the equator flying in the direction of the planet’s rotation. That extra 450-ish meters per second in velocity meant the ships could carry more cargo and burn slightly less fuel. As a result, on Class M planets without indigenous sentient life, settlements and spaceports would be on the equator regardless of the climate.
Terenginar Durok, a Fereng trading world, followed the pattern. Though Class M, there were few land masses in the vast equatorial oceans. Sunny days were rare. More likely it was cloudy and rainy, but that suited the Ferengi just fine. The largest island in one of the the equatorial seas had become the home to a gleaming and gaudy megalopolis, Durok Cha, with spaceports mixed in with the urban core. It had become famous – or infamous – as place where all manner of technology, including cybernetics, could be bought and sold. And the Ferengi authorities looked the other way as long as enough latinum changed hands.
At night, even with the rain, Durok Cha glowed with giant holograms and neon signs. One could not say the city really slept. And in the days after the Ferengi began the process of joining the Federation, a new addition to the skyline arose: The 700-meter-tall spire of Federation Starbase Deep Range 17, built on an unused island in Durok Cha’s harbor. Once operation, it was a gleaming white tapering tower during the day and lit by floodlights with red blinking warning lights. In its own way, it became a part of the city’s ocean of light and motion.
Until within days of becoming operational, Deep Range 17’s lights went out.
On the second night after the power had failed at the starbase, with its black hulk barely visible in the mist, rain, and darkness, a Federation shuttle descended from the orbiting USS *Cerritos.* It landed on a landing pad near the center of town. The hatch opened and three slim figures, all just under two meters tall, came out into the rain. Obviously humanoid females, they wore Starfleet issue rain cloaks. Their cloaks’ hoods concealed their faces, and the cloaks were black with colored trim. The central figure’s cloak had red trim, and the two flanking her had blue trim on their cloaks.
They seemed to ignore everyone and everything around them as they walked several blocks of the brightly lit, crowded main street before turning down a less well-traveled street. At length, they came to a blocky two-story building whose front door had a gleaming high-tech lock. The figure in the red-trimmed cloak turned to one of her companions and nodded. The female in the blue-trimmed cloak approached the door. Green-skinned hands produced small tools from within the cloak, and she set to work on the lock. In less than a minute it clicked open.
Inside the lobby the only other door was to an elevator with only a “down” button. Cameras swept the room. Mariner, T’Lyn, and Tendi pulled back their hoods. T’Lyn opened her cloak enough to reveal she was wearing a choker with an IDIC charm on it.
Mariner looked at one of the cameras and said, “Let us come down.” Her tone indicated she would not take ‘no’ for an answer.
Nothing happened. Two other cameras swiveled towards them.
Mariner said, “Let me rephrase that, Archimedes. We are going to get down there. The question is how pissed off do you want me to be when I get down there. And before you ask, these two will have amnesia. The choice is yours.”
A moment later, the elevator door opened.
“Thanks,” Mariner said.
Mariner, T’Lyn, and Tendi, entered the elevator. The ride down was fast and short. The doors opened into a large room with monitors covering the walls, and banks of computer filled the room. T’Lyn’s expression didn’t change as she absently rubbed the charm on her choker and then put her hand down.
“Mariner,” said the man who came from around one of the banks. He wore a dark suit. His eyes and the upper half of his skull were covered with—or had been replaced by, Mariner didn’t know—featureless gleaming silver metal. Cameras on the room’s walls stayed on Mariner and her companions.
Mariner smiled. It was not a warm, friendly smile.
She said, “Hey, Arch. Long time no see. Should I be surprised to find you on Terenginar Durok?”
“The Ferengi and I agree on many elements of economics. And what about you, Mariner? What brings you to this fair world? Would you be from one of the ships that built the new starbase?”
“As a matter of fact, yeah, the *Cerritos.* We had just left for our next assignment when Starfleet ordered us to turn around and handle their power outage.”
“Tragic that the base’s systems crashed so soon after opening. One might say it was embarrassing.”
“Unless it was malicious,” Mariner said. “Turns out the base was infected by a virus.”
“This planet is known as a tech hub, Mariner.”
“Don’t I know it, Arch. A member of our crew has his own cybernetic implants in his head. He plugged himself into the base’s mainframe and tried to disable the virus from the inside. Instead, it put him in a coma. But we learned the virus can be disabled with a password.” Mariner took a step forward, and hint of menace entered her voice: “This has your stink all over it, Archie, and I am in no mood to dance. One of our friends is in that sickbay. I want that password. I want it now.”
“Why so quick to blame me, Mariner? You know I am not one to hold a grudge.”
“You’re not one to *act* on a grudge, Arch, but you wouldn’t mind mixing business with pleasure. Someone paid you to do this. If you don’t have the password, you were hired by someone who does. Give.”
“Or what, Mariner? You’ll beat me up? I have kept tabs on you. I happen to know that you are on your way up in Starfleet. A lieutenant junior grade, and from what I hear, not as willing to get herself thrown in the brig as she once was. And if you go through normal channels, I remind you Starfleet does not have jurisdiction here. Even with the Nagus’ reforms, this is still a Ferengi world. Everything is negotiable. How much time is your captain willing to spend on this?”
Mariner smiled. “I was hoping you would say something like that, Archie.” She looked over her shoulder at T’Lyn and nodded. T’Lyn rubbed her choker. Lights in the room blinked, and the screens filled with static and gibberish.
Archimedes clamped his hands to the metal half of his skull as if he was in pain. “What the—my systems are crashing—firewalls down—HOW!?”
Mariner said, “Admiral Janeway owed us for getting her old ship home to Earth in spite of some…difficulties. She put us together with Voyager’s Doctor and Seven of Nine. A little Borg nanotech, some Vulcan coding and some Orion secret sauce…we figured you wouldn’t be ready for it. And I counted on you to be arrogant enough to think someone wouldn’t dare release nanites into your systems from *inside* your sanctum sanctorum. I owe myself a slip of latinum, but you know the old saying, pride goeth before yada yada yada blah blah blah.
“Now, if I know Durok Cha--and I do--you MIGHT have five minutes before every hacker within half a parsec of this room realizes your defenses are down and they can try to get what they can from your servers before you can get your firewalls back up. What secrets would they uncover? Might they learn if you’ve double-crossed anyone who wouldn’t like being double-crossed? Might such people be willing to pay handsomely for information on said double-crossing? Kinda sucks to be you, but we do have an obligation to everyone in Terengi Durok’s community…including you. My friends here are pretty tech savvy and would love to help, but if you don’t give us something, wouldn’t you know it, we’re helping with routine maintenance of the *Cerritos’s* warp core. Be at it for a few more hours at least, and every other Starfleet officer on or near this rock is kinda busy right now. Might be hours before you get help. What’s it gonna be, Archie?”
Archimedes had regained some composure but was still angry. Yet he smiled slightly and said calmly, “There was no need for these heavy-handed tactics against an innocent man. I expect you to repair the damage you have done. But if it’s any consolation, I hope you can find the miscreant responsible for harming your shipmate. You just have to be logical about it.” He put a little emphasis on the word “logical.”
“What—” Mariner sputtered, “Arch—”
T’Lyn stepped forward and touched Mariner’s arm. Mariner looked over her shoulder at the Vulcan, then turned back to Archimedes. “Deal.”
Archimedes nodded, then turned and vanished among the computer banks.
Mariner said to T’Lyn, “What? You have something?”
“Only a hypothesis with limited supporting evidence, Mariner, what you would call a ‘hunch,’ but it is consistent with what Archimedes has told us.”
“I’ll take it.”
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Back in their shuttle, Mariner, T’Lyn, and Tendi stood behind the pilot’s station and faced the rear half of the cabin.
Mariner said, “Computer, open secure channel 1578-Juliett. Rabid Cub to Momma Bear.”
Static flashed and Captain Carol Freeman’s translucent hologram appeared in the cabin. “Go ahead, Beckett. You’ve got something?”
Mariner looked at T’Lyn.
T’Lyn said, “Nothing concrete, Captain, but our…contact indicated that he was dealing with an intermediary. I have reason to believe that this individual would be a Vulcan. While Vulcans are not generally known for engaging in criminal enterprises, it is not unheard of either. And there have been rumors of an individual whose profile would make him a likely suspect.”
Freeman took a deep breath. “Don’t you three take the cake? Starfleet has given me wide latitude given the importance they place on Deep Range 17, but this is pushing it. I’d love to help you, Beckett, but in about two minutes I will be inspecting your work on the warp core.”
“Mom, I owe you one.”
“Give me five minutes.”
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The club was dark, crowded, and lively, lit by flashing lights and reflections off rotating disco balls as feline go-go dancers writhed on circular stages around the dance floor to the pounding house music. A Vulcan worked behind the bar, Vulcans waited tables, and a pair of beefy Vulcans were bouncers at the door.
Mariner, T’Lyn, and Tendi went through the crowd to a corner table. A Vulcan in a dark coat sat there, Vulcan script tattooed on his cheek under one of his eyes. Two muscular Vulcans flanked his chair.
T’Lyn gave the Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper, Krinn of Vulcan. I would not expect a Vulcan to be owning such an establishment.”
“Peace and long life, Lieutenant,” Krinn said, not hiding his sarcasm. They dropped their hands. Krinn went on, “One must always avail oneself of the opportunities to observe other cultures. Since I see you are a provisional lieutenant junior grade, logic suggests you already know that.”
“Indeed.”
Mariner took a seat opposite Krinn while T’Lyn and Tendi flanked her.
Mariner said, “Let’s cut to the chase. You brokered for a virus to disable Deep Range 17. It also put our friend in sickbay. We want who hired you and the virus’ password.”
“And the evidence is…?” Krinn prodded. “No? Well, I can’t help you. And on a Ferengi world--”
Tendi said, “Everything is negotiable. We heard that already.”
T’Lyn said, “Both Vulcan security and Starfleet intelligence are aware that you expanded your operations to this planet some years ago, but are now closing them and are preparing to return to M’Talas prime.”
“Merely consolidating my operations. Business conditions in my hometown have improved.”
Mariner said, “And it has nothing to do with the rumor that you’re leaving at gunpoint because you have been an informant for Starfleet.”
“I’m aware of no such rumor, Lieutenant.”
“That’s because I haven’t spread it yet, Krinn.”
“Indeed. Tell me, Lieutenant, this club is dark with a great many stimuli confusing the senses. Do you think that you and your shipmates can leave without having accidents?”
Mariner said, “You tell me, Krinn. You want to wager that a Vulcan, an Orion assassin, and a psycho can’t get out of here without a scratch? And you may not take Starfleet seriously, but I have Klingon and Orion friends. Want to have all of them breathing down you neck?”
Krinn smiled slightly. “My, my, my, how touchy Starfleet is about their own. I have heard of you three harassing local entrepreneurs like Mr. Archimedes. I assure you that it is not necessary. I operate legitimate businesses here on Terenginar Durok. Starfleet may inspect them at their leisure…no sooner that 72 standard hours from now.”
“24,” Mariner said.
“48.”
“36.”
“38.625.”
“Vulcans. Starfleet officers excepted, T’Lyn. Done, Krinn.” Mariner held out her hand.
Krinn reached into his coat and pulled out an isolinear rod. He said, “The identity of my client. He will have the information on how to disable the virus.” He put the rod in Mariner’s hand. “As I said, I have heard about you.”
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The Ferengi in the tan suit stood at the window overlooking Durok Cha’s harbor and the darkened spire of the starbase.
A voice came from his desk: “Kraimon Tuek, there are people from Starfleet to see you.”
“Let them in.”
The door across the room opened. Mariner, T’Lyn and Tendi entered.
Tuek turned and smiled. He motioned to three chairs on the other side of his desk and said, “Come in, please! It’s an honor to have Starfleet’s representatives here, even if I don’t rate a captain.”
“Yeah, well, the upper-deckers are booked up,” Mariner said as she, T’Lyn, and Tendi took their seats.
“Ah well, needs must. So tell me, what can I do for Starfleet?”
Mariner said, “We know you paid for a computer virus that shut down the starbase and--”
“‘—and put an intrepid young officer in sickbay,’” Tuek mocked. “And? You think I’m worried about Starfleet? You have no jurisdiction. And if you try to go through local authorities, you’ll find not every Ferengi is as enthusiastic about joining the Federation as the Grand Nagus.”
Mariner said, “Who said anything about authorities?” She looked at Tendi.
Tendi said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m D’Vana Tendi, Mistress of the Winter Constellations. The injured officer is a friend of my house. In such circumstances, I can act unilaterally. And finally.”
Tuek looked at Tendi blankly. Then he laughed. “No, I don’t think you can. You think I didn’t know who you bitches were the instant you landed on Terengi Durok? You thought you were being so covert, and I have been following your every move. I have to thank you, though. You’ve been very entertaining. I loved your ‘secret’ communication: ‘Rabid cub to Momma Bear.’ That’s a riot. You Starfleet, acting like you own the Alpha Quadrant. You don’t. I couldn’t wait for you to get here and tell you egotistical harlots your antics have been for nothing.”
Mariner said, “Ok. Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.” She touched her com badge. “Will you please join us, sir?”
Four Ferengi transporter columns shimmered into existence and resolved into Grand Nagus Rom, First Clerk Leeta, and two tall, muscular Nausicaans. Rom and Leeta did not look happy.
Tuek shot to his feet. “Grand Nagus! What an unexpected shock—I mean, pleasure, to see you your amplification.”
“Kraimon Tuek,” Rom growled. “Did you or did you not receive my instructions about cooperating with Starfleet?”
“Of course I did, your greatness.”
Leeta said, “The Nagus and I don’t think you understood his instructions. So we came to go over them with you in person.”
One of the Nausicaans cracked his knuckles.
“Ah…” Tuek Stammered, “well, your magnificence, as you can see, I’m meeting with Starfleet personnel right now.”
“Ah,” Mariner said as she, T’Ly, and Tendi rose from their chairs, “well, no, you’re not, because we’re not here.”
The three junior officers crossed to the door, but Mariner paused before leaving. “Oh, and Tuek? You shouldn’t have called us names.”
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“Unbelievable,” Mariner said with a smile. She, T’Lyn, and Tendi were back in the shuttle.
T’Lyn had her tricorder in her hand and earbuds on. Her body was moving slightly to music. She said, “What do you mean, Mariner?”
“You, vibing to Grok’s new single. Isn’t that an emotional response?”
“Music is meant to evoke an emotional response, Mariner, so ‘vibing’ is logical.”
The console beeped.
T’Lyn took her earbuds out as Mariner tabbed a control. Rom appeared on the monitor.
Mariner said, “Hello, Rom. Any good news?”
“Yes,” Rom said. “Tuek cooperated after we…clarified my instructions. I’m transmitting everything you need about the virus on another channel.”
“Thanks, Rom. I would say ‘I owe you,’ but I know better.”
“Of course, Mariner. That’s why I like you and your mother.”
“You can thank Tuek for me, though” Mariner said.
“You can do it yourself, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Rom said. “Tuek is spending the night in the hospital. It seems he fell and hit his head on his desk twelve times.”
Tendi smiled and said, “Hate when people are that clumsy.”
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It wasn’t long before Deep Range 17’s flood lights and warning lights came back on. And above the planet in the *Cerritos’s* sickbay, Rutherford opened his eyes to find his bed surrounded by Tendi, T’Lyn, Boimler, Mariner, Ransom, and Freeman.
He said, “Guys?”
“RUTHERFORD!” Tendi surged forward and hugged Rutherford.
“I guess I’m ok,” Rutherford said, returning the hug. “But captain—the virus--”
Mariner said, “It’s ok. We took care of it.”
“How? That was one gnarly piece of code.”
“With you out of commission, you could say we had to do it the old-fashioned way,” Mariner said, “and along the way made it clear no one messes with my friends.”
THE END
AUTHOR: MikeJaffa
SYNPOSIS: Answer to Cyberpunk Planet Challenge: Rutherford is in coma because of a computer virus, and Mariner hunts for the one responsible
DISCLAIMER: Star Trek: Lower Decks is owned by Paramount (I think). I am making no money off this fic.
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A wise Starfleet engineer had once told his captain one cannot change the laws of physics. That held true for the physics of motion, and momentum, of thrust, drag, lift, and gravity. So it was that in the last quarter of the 24th century, when liquid- and solid-fueled booster rockets had long since been supplanted by impulse engines and inertial dampers by species that traveled the stars, the captains of starships that landed on planets took every little “boost” from nature they could get. On a planet with a rotational period of about one Terran solar day, starship captains preferred to take off and land on the equator flying in the direction of the planet’s rotation. That extra 450-ish meters per second in velocity meant the ships could carry more cargo and burn slightly less fuel. As a result, on Class M planets without indigenous sentient life, settlements and spaceports would be on the equator regardless of the climate.
Terenginar Durok, a Fereng trading world, followed the pattern. Though Class M, there were few land masses in the vast equatorial oceans. Sunny days were rare. More likely it was cloudy and rainy, but that suited the Ferengi just fine. The largest island in one of the the equatorial seas had become the home to a gleaming and gaudy megalopolis, Durok Cha, with spaceports mixed in with the urban core. It had become famous – or infamous – as place where all manner of technology, including cybernetics, could be bought and sold. And the Ferengi authorities looked the other way as long as enough latinum changed hands.
At night, even with the rain, Durok Cha glowed with giant holograms and neon signs. One could not say the city really slept. And in the days after the Ferengi began the process of joining the Federation, a new addition to the skyline arose: The 700-meter-tall spire of Federation Starbase Deep Range 17, built on an unused island in Durok Cha’s harbor. Once operation, it was a gleaming white tapering tower during the day and lit by floodlights with red blinking warning lights. In its own way, it became a part of the city’s ocean of light and motion.
Until within days of becoming operational, Deep Range 17’s lights went out.
On the second night after the power had failed at the starbase, with its black hulk barely visible in the mist, rain, and darkness, a Federation shuttle descended from the orbiting USS *Cerritos.* It landed on a landing pad near the center of town. The hatch opened and three slim figures, all just under two meters tall, came out into the rain. Obviously humanoid females, they wore Starfleet issue rain cloaks. Their cloaks’ hoods concealed their faces, and the cloaks were black with colored trim. The central figure’s cloak had red trim, and the two flanking her had blue trim on their cloaks.
They seemed to ignore everyone and everything around them as they walked several blocks of the brightly lit, crowded main street before turning down a less well-traveled street. At length, they came to a blocky two-story building whose front door had a gleaming high-tech lock. The figure in the red-trimmed cloak turned to one of her companions and nodded. The female in the blue-trimmed cloak approached the door. Green-skinned hands produced small tools from within the cloak, and she set to work on the lock. In less than a minute it clicked open.
Inside the lobby the only other door was to an elevator with only a “down” button. Cameras swept the room. Mariner, T’Lyn, and Tendi pulled back their hoods. T’Lyn opened her cloak enough to reveal she was wearing a choker with an IDIC charm on it.
Mariner looked at one of the cameras and said, “Let us come down.” Her tone indicated she would not take ‘no’ for an answer.
Nothing happened. Two other cameras swiveled towards them.
Mariner said, “Let me rephrase that, Archimedes. We are going to get down there. The question is how pissed off do you want me to be when I get down there. And before you ask, these two will have amnesia. The choice is yours.”
A moment later, the elevator door opened.
“Thanks,” Mariner said.
Mariner, T’Lyn, and Tendi, entered the elevator. The ride down was fast and short. The doors opened into a large room with monitors covering the walls, and banks of computer filled the room. T’Lyn’s expression didn’t change as she absently rubbed the charm on her choker and then put her hand down.
“Mariner,” said the man who came from around one of the banks. He wore a dark suit. His eyes and the upper half of his skull were covered with—or had been replaced by, Mariner didn’t know—featureless gleaming silver metal. Cameras on the room’s walls stayed on Mariner and her companions.
Mariner smiled. It was not a warm, friendly smile.
She said, “Hey, Arch. Long time no see. Should I be surprised to find you on Terenginar Durok?”
“The Ferengi and I agree on many elements of economics. And what about you, Mariner? What brings you to this fair world? Would you be from one of the ships that built the new starbase?”
“As a matter of fact, yeah, the *Cerritos.* We had just left for our next assignment when Starfleet ordered us to turn around and handle their power outage.”
“Tragic that the base’s systems crashed so soon after opening. One might say it was embarrassing.”
“Unless it was malicious,” Mariner said. “Turns out the base was infected by a virus.”
“This planet is known as a tech hub, Mariner.”
“Don’t I know it, Arch. A member of our crew has his own cybernetic implants in his head. He plugged himself into the base’s mainframe and tried to disable the virus from the inside. Instead, it put him in a coma. But we learned the virus can be disabled with a password.” Mariner took a step forward, and hint of menace entered her voice: “This has your stink all over it, Archie, and I am in no mood to dance. One of our friends is in that sickbay. I want that password. I want it now.”
“Why so quick to blame me, Mariner? You know I am not one to hold a grudge.”
“You’re not one to *act* on a grudge, Arch, but you wouldn’t mind mixing business with pleasure. Someone paid you to do this. If you don’t have the password, you were hired by someone who does. Give.”
“Or what, Mariner? You’ll beat me up? I have kept tabs on you. I happen to know that you are on your way up in Starfleet. A lieutenant junior grade, and from what I hear, not as willing to get herself thrown in the brig as she once was. And if you go through normal channels, I remind you Starfleet does not have jurisdiction here. Even with the Nagus’ reforms, this is still a Ferengi world. Everything is negotiable. How much time is your captain willing to spend on this?”
Mariner smiled. “I was hoping you would say something like that, Archie.” She looked over her shoulder at T’Lyn and nodded. T’Lyn rubbed her choker. Lights in the room blinked, and the screens filled with static and gibberish.
Archimedes clamped his hands to the metal half of his skull as if he was in pain. “What the—my systems are crashing—firewalls down—HOW!?”
Mariner said, “Admiral Janeway owed us for getting her old ship home to Earth in spite of some…difficulties. She put us together with Voyager’s Doctor and Seven of Nine. A little Borg nanotech, some Vulcan coding and some Orion secret sauce…we figured you wouldn’t be ready for it. And I counted on you to be arrogant enough to think someone wouldn’t dare release nanites into your systems from *inside* your sanctum sanctorum. I owe myself a slip of latinum, but you know the old saying, pride goeth before yada yada yada blah blah blah.
“Now, if I know Durok Cha--and I do--you MIGHT have five minutes before every hacker within half a parsec of this room realizes your defenses are down and they can try to get what they can from your servers before you can get your firewalls back up. What secrets would they uncover? Might they learn if you’ve double-crossed anyone who wouldn’t like being double-crossed? Might such people be willing to pay handsomely for information on said double-crossing? Kinda sucks to be you, but we do have an obligation to everyone in Terengi Durok’s community…including you. My friends here are pretty tech savvy and would love to help, but if you don’t give us something, wouldn’t you know it, we’re helping with routine maintenance of the *Cerritos’s* warp core. Be at it for a few more hours at least, and every other Starfleet officer on or near this rock is kinda busy right now. Might be hours before you get help. What’s it gonna be, Archie?”
Archimedes had regained some composure but was still angry. Yet he smiled slightly and said calmly, “There was no need for these heavy-handed tactics against an innocent man. I expect you to repair the damage you have done. But if it’s any consolation, I hope you can find the miscreant responsible for harming your shipmate. You just have to be logical about it.” He put a little emphasis on the word “logical.”
“What—” Mariner sputtered, “Arch—”
T’Lyn stepped forward and touched Mariner’s arm. Mariner looked over her shoulder at the Vulcan, then turned back to Archimedes. “Deal.”
Archimedes nodded, then turned and vanished among the computer banks.
Mariner said to T’Lyn, “What? You have something?”
“Only a hypothesis with limited supporting evidence, Mariner, what you would call a ‘hunch,’ but it is consistent with what Archimedes has told us.”
“I’ll take it.”
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Back in their shuttle, Mariner, T’Lyn, and Tendi stood behind the pilot’s station and faced the rear half of the cabin.
Mariner said, “Computer, open secure channel 1578-Juliett. Rabid Cub to Momma Bear.”
Static flashed and Captain Carol Freeman’s translucent hologram appeared in the cabin. “Go ahead, Beckett. You’ve got something?”
Mariner looked at T’Lyn.
T’Lyn said, “Nothing concrete, Captain, but our…contact indicated that he was dealing with an intermediary. I have reason to believe that this individual would be a Vulcan. While Vulcans are not generally known for engaging in criminal enterprises, it is not unheard of either. And there have been rumors of an individual whose profile would make him a likely suspect.”
Freeman took a deep breath. “Don’t you three take the cake? Starfleet has given me wide latitude given the importance they place on Deep Range 17, but this is pushing it. I’d love to help you, Beckett, but in about two minutes I will be inspecting your work on the warp core.”
“Mom, I owe you one.”
“Give me five minutes.”
8
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The club was dark, crowded, and lively, lit by flashing lights and reflections off rotating disco balls as feline go-go dancers writhed on circular stages around the dance floor to the pounding house music. A Vulcan worked behind the bar, Vulcans waited tables, and a pair of beefy Vulcans were bouncers at the door.
Mariner, T’Lyn, and Tendi went through the crowd to a corner table. A Vulcan in a dark coat sat there, Vulcan script tattooed on his cheek under one of his eyes. Two muscular Vulcans flanked his chair.
T’Lyn gave the Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper, Krinn of Vulcan. I would not expect a Vulcan to be owning such an establishment.”
“Peace and long life, Lieutenant,” Krinn said, not hiding his sarcasm. They dropped their hands. Krinn went on, “One must always avail oneself of the opportunities to observe other cultures. Since I see you are a provisional lieutenant junior grade, logic suggests you already know that.”
“Indeed.”
Mariner took a seat opposite Krinn while T’Lyn and Tendi flanked her.
Mariner said, “Let’s cut to the chase. You brokered for a virus to disable Deep Range 17. It also put our friend in sickbay. We want who hired you and the virus’ password.”
“And the evidence is…?” Krinn prodded. “No? Well, I can’t help you. And on a Ferengi world--”
Tendi said, “Everything is negotiable. We heard that already.”
T’Lyn said, “Both Vulcan security and Starfleet intelligence are aware that you expanded your operations to this planet some years ago, but are now closing them and are preparing to return to M’Talas prime.”
“Merely consolidating my operations. Business conditions in my hometown have improved.”
Mariner said, “And it has nothing to do with the rumor that you’re leaving at gunpoint because you have been an informant for Starfleet.”
“I’m aware of no such rumor, Lieutenant.”
“That’s because I haven’t spread it yet, Krinn.”
“Indeed. Tell me, Lieutenant, this club is dark with a great many stimuli confusing the senses. Do you think that you and your shipmates can leave without having accidents?”
Mariner said, “You tell me, Krinn. You want to wager that a Vulcan, an Orion assassin, and a psycho can’t get out of here without a scratch? And you may not take Starfleet seriously, but I have Klingon and Orion friends. Want to have all of them breathing down you neck?”
Krinn smiled slightly. “My, my, my, how touchy Starfleet is about their own. I have heard of you three harassing local entrepreneurs like Mr. Archimedes. I assure you that it is not necessary. I operate legitimate businesses here on Terenginar Durok. Starfleet may inspect them at their leisure…no sooner that 72 standard hours from now.”
“24,” Mariner said.
“48.”
“36.”
“38.625.”
“Vulcans. Starfleet officers excepted, T’Lyn. Done, Krinn.” Mariner held out her hand.
Krinn reached into his coat and pulled out an isolinear rod. He said, “The identity of my client. He will have the information on how to disable the virus.” He put the rod in Mariner’s hand. “As I said, I have heard about you.”
8
8
The Ferengi in the tan suit stood at the window overlooking Durok Cha’s harbor and the darkened spire of the starbase.
A voice came from his desk: “Kraimon Tuek, there are people from Starfleet to see you.”
“Let them in.”
The door across the room opened. Mariner, T’Lyn and Tendi entered.
Tuek turned and smiled. He motioned to three chairs on the other side of his desk and said, “Come in, please! It’s an honor to have Starfleet’s representatives here, even if I don’t rate a captain.”
“Yeah, well, the upper-deckers are booked up,” Mariner said as she, T’Lyn, and Tendi took their seats.
“Ah well, needs must. So tell me, what can I do for Starfleet?”
Mariner said, “We know you paid for a computer virus that shut down the starbase and--”
“‘—and put an intrepid young officer in sickbay,’” Tuek mocked. “And? You think I’m worried about Starfleet? You have no jurisdiction. And if you try to go through local authorities, you’ll find not every Ferengi is as enthusiastic about joining the Federation as the Grand Nagus.”
Mariner said, “Who said anything about authorities?” She looked at Tendi.
Tendi said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m D’Vana Tendi, Mistress of the Winter Constellations. The injured officer is a friend of my house. In such circumstances, I can act unilaterally. And finally.”
Tuek looked at Tendi blankly. Then he laughed. “No, I don’t think you can. You think I didn’t know who you bitches were the instant you landed on Terengi Durok? You thought you were being so covert, and I have been following your every move. I have to thank you, though. You’ve been very entertaining. I loved your ‘secret’ communication: ‘Rabid cub to Momma Bear.’ That’s a riot. You Starfleet, acting like you own the Alpha Quadrant. You don’t. I couldn’t wait for you to get here and tell you egotistical harlots your antics have been for nothing.”
Mariner said, “Ok. Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.” She touched her com badge. “Will you please join us, sir?”
Four Ferengi transporter columns shimmered into existence and resolved into Grand Nagus Rom, First Clerk Leeta, and two tall, muscular Nausicaans. Rom and Leeta did not look happy.
Tuek shot to his feet. “Grand Nagus! What an unexpected shock—I mean, pleasure, to see you your amplification.”
“Kraimon Tuek,” Rom growled. “Did you or did you not receive my instructions about cooperating with Starfleet?”
“Of course I did, your greatness.”
Leeta said, “The Nagus and I don’t think you understood his instructions. So we came to go over them with you in person.”
One of the Nausicaans cracked his knuckles.
“Ah…” Tuek Stammered, “well, your magnificence, as you can see, I’m meeting with Starfleet personnel right now.”
“Ah,” Mariner said as she, T’Ly, and Tendi rose from their chairs, “well, no, you’re not, because we’re not here.”
The three junior officers crossed to the door, but Mariner paused before leaving. “Oh, and Tuek? You shouldn’t have called us names.”
8
8
“Unbelievable,” Mariner said with a smile. She, T’Lyn, and Tendi were back in the shuttle.
T’Lyn had her tricorder in her hand and earbuds on. Her body was moving slightly to music. She said, “What do you mean, Mariner?”
“You, vibing to Grok’s new single. Isn’t that an emotional response?”
“Music is meant to evoke an emotional response, Mariner, so ‘vibing’ is logical.”
The console beeped.
T’Lyn took her earbuds out as Mariner tabbed a control. Rom appeared on the monitor.
Mariner said, “Hello, Rom. Any good news?”
“Yes,” Rom said. “Tuek cooperated after we…clarified my instructions. I’m transmitting everything you need about the virus on another channel.”
“Thanks, Rom. I would say ‘I owe you,’ but I know better.”
“Of course, Mariner. That’s why I like you and your mother.”
“You can thank Tuek for me, though” Mariner said.
“You can do it yourself, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Rom said. “Tuek is spending the night in the hospital. It seems he fell and hit his head on his desk twelve times.”
Tendi smiled and said, “Hate when people are that clumsy.”
8
8
It wasn’t long before Deep Range 17’s flood lights and warning lights came back on. And above the planet in the *Cerritos’s* sickbay, Rutherford opened his eyes to find his bed surrounded by Tendi, T’Lyn, Boimler, Mariner, Ransom, and Freeman.
He said, “Guys?”
“RUTHERFORD!” Tendi surged forward and hugged Rutherford.
“I guess I’m ok,” Rutherford said, returning the hug. “But captain—the virus--”
Mariner said, “It’s ok. We took care of it.”
“How? That was one gnarly piece of code.”
“With you out of commission, you could say we had to do it the old-fashioned way,” Mariner said, “and along the way made it clear no one messes with my friends.”
THE END
