Olympus Mons: Cat and Mouse

[pio1776]

PROLOGUE


ch'Rihan, 128 Trianguli Binary System

There were lives at stake, but whose was a matter of opinion. No doubt the elderly man would see his daughters soon enough, a thought that both pleased and troubled him at the same time. His life had not been his own since taking over from his master and mentor, a man who had the fortunate of dying in his sleep at the ripe old age of 250. No, the consul lived at the Praetor's pleasure.

The elderly consul turned into the main arched walkway that lined between the palace and the majestic gardens, and deliberately ignoring the behemoth goblin-like creatures that served in the famed Rai’karansu. Why the Praetor let these creatures into the prestigious guard was not discussed, at least not publicly. Still a full regiment of the daemons and native Rihannsu were stationed in the palace and within the capital itself.
He stepped out onto the cobblestone walkway, keeping the toga off the manicured grass, and carried on until slowing upon seeing the youngster. The consul frowned slightly, noting the Tal’Shiar Director hovering by the young Praetor.

The consul sighed, and pressed forward.

“My liege,” the consul cleared his throat.

The Praetor turned and smiled broadly at him. “Ah, Consul Elima,” the Praetor started and embrace the air between with open palms, as if he wanted to hug the older man. “And what news does the Teth Koros have for me today?”

“I bring bearings that three of our teams have penetrated the Sirius Binary, my liege,” Elima announced.

“And what of the drones and teams sent to Andor and that swine of a world?”

“Tellar,” the Tal’Shiar Director supplied.

The Praetor waved him off.

“They are too in place,” offered Elima, “and Legate Landos is preparing the troops for Coridan as we speak.”

The Praetor cocked his head as he considered Elima before him, and the older man straightened under the scrutiny. After all, he was the one in direct control of the elusive Teth Koros, and the second to have been recruited by his late master and mentor into this special operations division of the Galae s'Shiar--the space forces of the Romulan Star Empire. “Good.” The Praetor nodded eventually. “Very good, Elima. I trust you will have later to report success.”

Elima bowed deeply. “By your guiding hand, my liege.”

“Indeed,” replied the Praetor, momentarily sounding serious before grinning and turning to the head of the Empire’s self proclaimed premier spy agency.

By that act alone, Elima knew that he got to live for another day and stood there while the Praetor and his party walked away.


Dunedin, Sirius A, Sirius Binary System

“So,” announced Commander Ambler Furry as he pulled himself aboard the shuttlepod, and cocked an eyebrow at the woman, “C-1, huh?”

“That’s what Lieutenant Marquette said,” she replied. “Something to do with a couple of dead bodies and a missing automobile.”

Furry did his best not to roll his eyes at the mention of the communications officer, and almost succeeded from the amused look the woman was giving him. “Who called it in?” he finally asked as he settled into a seat, just as the hulking chief warrant officer launched their ’pod.

“DCP,” supplied the woman, referring to the Dunedin Colonial Police.

“What’s Ciara doing about it?” asked Furry.

“Until a few minutes ago, nothing,” the woman said. “I ordered her to have Ensign Rowe fly Petty Officers Kirk and Caffrey to meet up with the local constabulary already securing the crime scene.”

Furry relaxed, confident that he had made the right call in naming the woman as his new second-in-command. “Thanks Vera.”

She nodded in response.

“Oh yeah.” Furry pulled out a palm sized personal access data device, and handed it over to her. “Congratulations by the way . . .”

Vera Hernandez looked back at him quizzically while accepting the padd. “For?”

Despite being tired, Furry smiled despite himself. “For making Lieutenant Commander.”

As their ’pod raced to meet up with the Juno, Vera just gawked in response.

 

[pio1776]

CHAPTER ONE


C-1, New Scotland Desert, Dunedin

Despite the hour of the afternoon, Detective Inspector Ludmila Sokowska felt hot as she carefully made her way around the first of the bodies, and pointedly ignoring the heavy set Starfleet petty officer that accompanied her every move. Or at least tried to. Something about the noncom unnerved the veteran of thirty years, but Sokowska couldn’t pinpoint the reason. Perhaps it was due to the fact the petty officer, along with the other two Starfleeters, wore lightweight combat armour and had EM-33 pistols holstered on their thighs.

“I still don’t understand why you are here, Mister . . . ah . . .” she turned to address the young officer that accompanied the petty officer.

“Rowe, ma’am,” the young man, who looked no older than her youngest son, said curtly as he stood a respectful distance away from the two bodies. “Ensign Damian Rowe.”

Sokowska nodded her thanks. Not that he answered her question either. She shook her head once more and refocused on the crime-scene, or what passed for one in the middle of the desert. There was very little to be honest, just a pair of two elderly people; one of whom was a human female and the other a Denobulan male. There were tyre marks too, along with the young woman and her car that first commed emergency services.

“Coroner should be here in twenty minutes,” announced the Ktarian detective sergeant.

Sokowska frowned, just as a shuttlepod shot past and started to descend as it turned. “Twenty minutes is a long time,” she said unnecessarily.

The Ktarian just shrugged. “That’s what happens when you appoint a Klimash as a coroner.”

She eyed her partner while the shuttlepod landed. “You’re kidding right?”

The Ktarian looked back at her. “What?”

“What have you got against Doctor Dlugosh?”

“Other than the fact he eats insects, not much.”

Sokowska just shook her head in bewilderment. Outside of Rigal, Dunedin was the place to be if one ever wanted to meet an alien. In turn, the Dunedin Colonial Police made it policy to employ aliens alongside humans in an endeavour to meet such a diverse community.

*
“You’ve named me Sean’s replacement?!” hissed Vera for the hundredth time since accepting the padd.

Poised through the hatch, Furry stopped and eyed her. “Yes.”

And then resumed to hop off the ’pod. Up ahead, Rowe waited with the police.

“He’s not even buried yet and you’re replacing him with me?!” Vera was incredulous as she followed him out, followed by a stone faced warrant officer.

“What would you have be do instead, Vera, suggest Ciara for the job?” demanded Furry, and watched with a degree of satisfaction as she belched at that idea. He pressed on. “The Admiral asked me a question, and yours was the first name that popped out.”

“What about my replacement?” she demanded. Furry frowned as he looked blankly at Vera. She shook her head, annoyed. “According to my transfer orders, I’m to be your Exec full time. That means someone has to takeover sickbay, Numb Nuts!”

“The Admiral gave me a list--”

“The hell you are,” she snapped and brushed past Furry, who stopped.

He watched Vera approach the woman cop, frowned and glanced over to the trailing warrant.

“Is it me or is Vera upset with me, Chief?” mused Furry.

Chief Warrant Officer Jamal Bashir just eyed him.

“What?” asked Furry.

Bashir swallowed and then glanced down at his commanding officer, only to sigh when he found Furry look at him expectantly. “The mission,” Bashir said slowly, and added “Captain” almost in a resigned tone.

“Well, of course,” agreed Furry as he turned to face Vera and the cops. “The mission.” With that, Furry trotted over the last ten meters.

Bashir watched him go. Upon seeing Barb grinning at him, he glared at her and strode forward to the assembled officers and Ktarian.

 

[pio1776]

*
At the same time and for the briefest of moments, Sokowska momentarily wondered if a lover’s quarrel had landed near her crime-scene.

“The Lieutenant found out this morning she’s to be his second-in-command,” the Starfleet petty officer said sotto voce, and making Sokowska just in surprise.

Sokowska glared at the petty officer, who grinned impishly in return.

“And who the hells are you supposed to be?” her Ktarian partner demanded as he superimposed himself between the crime-scene and the two Starfleet officers.

“Lieutenant Commander Vera Hernandez,” the female Starfleet officer replied and nodded to the two trailing men in uniform. “And that there in the brown cap is Commander Ambler Furry and our head of security, Chief Bashir.”

The Ktarian frowned as he cocked his head, nodding at Furry and then at Vera. “I thought you called him ‘Numb Nuts’?” he went on.

Before the young woman could reply, Sokowska stepped forward and offered her hand. “Detective Inspector Ludmila Sokowska, DCP. Welcome to the middle of nowhere . . .”

Vera shook hands, and Sokowska nodded at its firmness.

 

[CeJay]

I like the premise here, particularly the way nobody really knows what's going on with this attack and even blame the poor (if annoyingly arrogant) Vulcans for this. And of course that's just what these Romulans want.

The action scenes here were pretty intense, if not brutal at times.

Also quite an interesting cast of characters. Furry looks a bit like the reluctant hero and it was perhaps a bit disconcerting how comfortable he seemed to be lying to the press. I suppose his real challenge will be tracking down the the Romulan(s) before it is too late. Thankfully he's got a few good men to help him along the way.

 

[pio1776]

Thank you Cejay. I actually enjoyed that part of the story. My goal is to make Furry realise that he's playing in the big leagues now, on par with Archer and the future captains in television trek and in United Trek, and try get away from the responsibility if he could . . . but Vera and Bashir will bring him kicking and screaming.
I am curious how he'll handle the Detective Inspector . . .

I like the premise here, particularly the way nobody really knows what's going on with this attack and even blame the poor (if annoyingly arrogant) Vulcans for this. And of course that's just what these Romulans want.

The action scenes here were pretty intense, if not brutal at times.

Also quite an interesting cast of characters. Furry looks a bit like the reluctant hero and it was perhaps a bit disconcerting how comfortable he seemed to be lying to the press. I suppose his real challenge will be tracking down the the Romulan(s) before it is too late. Thankfully he's got a few good men to help him along the way.

 

[pio1776]

CHAPTER TWO


C-1 Highway
New Scotland Desert, Dunedin

“And you must be Commander Furry I presume?” Sokowska turned to the officer sporting the worn brown cap, and checking him out in the process. Not that there was much to see and the Commander looked all the more unassuming beside the bulkier warrant next to him, just a man of average height and slightly tanned and that was as far as it went.
Still, at least he had a good firm no nonsense grip as they shook hands, and Sokowska decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt.

“Detective Inspector,” Furry demurred and looked about, before settling on the covered up bodies. “What we got here?”
“An elderly couple and a missing 2140 Ford Fiesta station wagon,” replied Sokowska without the need of her notes.

“Human?”

“The male was Denobulan.”

“The other victim a woman I take it?” asked Furry.

Sokowska nodded as she repeated. “Human.”

Furry grunted as he started towards the first of the bodies.

Hunched on his tiptoes, he lifted a corner of the sheet and furrowed his brow. “Do we know how they died?” he asked while Vera joined him.

“We won’t know until the coroner does an autopsy,” said the Ktarian.

“Outstanding,” muttered Furry and rose to his feet, and offered his hand to Sokowska. “Thank you, Detective Inspector,” he then said as she took his out of reflex. “We’ll take it from here.”

Sokowska just blinked in response, watching as the commander turned to his second-in-command. Not that the surprise took that long to register, and it was quickly replaced by one of irritation. After all, this was her crime-scene and she was the senior officer present.

“You’ll take what exactly from here?” she demanded while folding her arms across her breasts, and glaring at Furry. “This is homicide, Commander, not some broadside shot announcing hostilities.”

Furry glanced up at her, and his expression hardened. “As of this minute, this crime-scene is under my jurisdiction as per General Order Twenty-six.”

Sokowska frowned. “Never heard of it.”

“You would if you were Starfleet.” Furry sighed and his expression softened. “Look, I appreciate what you’ve done here. But as of this moment on, those two bodies and any other evidence you may have obtained belongs to me as per standing orders from Sirius Command the Office of the Minister of the Interior. This isn’t negotiable.”

“I’m not leaving my crime-scene.”

Furry frowned, and glanced over to Vera and Bashir. Not that he got much of anything, with both suddenly looking preoccupied. Not that he blamed them, wishing that he had someone else to pass the buck onto as it were.

“Fine, then feel free to stay if you wish,” he ventured and turned to regard. “What do you reckon, shuttlepod?”

Vera looked at him.

“Two fly the bodies over to the Oly,” elaborated Furry.

“Wouldn’t risk it,” Vera said after a moment.

“Transporter?”

“Might contaminate the evidence,” offered Vera.

“Huh. . .” Furry considered his options, and produced a communicator. “Furry to Olympus Mons?”

“Go ahead Captain,” James Patterson, the son of an Admiral and a Lieutenant Junior Grade, responded.

“What’s the status of the ship?”

“Ah, we’re currently docked with Echo Bravo Twenty-one,” the young lieutenant replied via the small speakers of the communicator, referring to the maintenance and cargo transfer space station Starfleet jointly administered with the Sirius Binary Ministry of Economic Development and Trade. “The good news, sir is that the damage to the cargo bays has been repaired.”

Furry grunted acknowledgement.

“We also picked up some extra crew by the way . . .”

“Good to know, Lieutenant.” Furry nodded, eyed the two ’pods as an idea. “Lieutenant,” the commander started up again.

“Sir?”

“Did we get a new shuttlepod by chance?”

“As a matter of fact, yes sir,” Patterson replied. “The Six-sixty-seventh just transferred Shuttlepod Sondervig and a full crew over to us.”

Furry shook his head. For whatever reason, it became customary to name the Type-1 and -2 shuttlepods after rivers on Earth. The more obscure and unpronounceable the better it seemed. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbled into the communicator. “Grab a couple of stretchers and see if you can borrow a couple of medics from Echo Bravo.”

“Roger that, skipper,” Patterson replied. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” replied Furry as he made eye contact with the rather pissed off Sokowska. “A sanity pill be nice . . .”

 

[pio1776]

CHAPTER THREE


Helensburgh
New Scotland Desert, Dunedin
Same time . . .

The woman known as T’hai smiled as she drove the 2140 Ford Fiesta station wagon into the town outskirts, a little smile on her face as she changed gears. Automobiles were something that seemed to be standard across the board, whether it be on a backwater planet like Dunedin or a heavily industrialised world like Coridan Prime, Tellar and Earth. Cars were even commonplace on her homeworld, except for the absolute rich and politically powerful that used atmospheric shuttles.

Nonetheless, learning to drive a wheeled vehicle was mandatory--almost a rite of passage--on technologically advanced worlds.

She slowed and eyed the car’s sensor screen, its global positioning programme telling her she had to turn left three blocks from now. Killing the elderly couple had been unfortunate but necessary, and easily done with a nerve pinch and snapping of the neck. She had even been careful by rubbing the bodies with sand, knowing that it may confuse scans for long enough until local authorities started to get a clue. By then, she was determined to be long gone.

The woman turned over the driving to the onboard computer, sat back. As she did, the woman went over what she knew of this particular settlement. Not that there was much, except that there was a communication relay point across town.
From what she understood, it was part of a network the humans started building about the time they launched themselves beyond their own home system, and permitted electronic transfer of data to and fro Earth. It was also a surveillance system, intercepting and monitoring the numerous radio and subspace frequencies. All going well, tonight the woman known as T’hai would check it out.

 

[pio1776]

C-1 Highway
New Scotland Desert, Dunedin

Commander Ambler Furry watched as the Shuttlepod Sondervig circled and eventually landed.

“Took them long enough,” he muttered as he approached the ’pod, and watched as its side hatch opened to reveal a brownish and incredibly hairy humanoid. Furry stopped as another hopped out, this one human. “Oh, you gotta be shitting me.”

The human grinned as Furry approached. “You called a taxi, Amb?”

“As a matter of fact, yeah I did,” replied Furry and narrowed his eyes at the human. “What took you, Ram?”

“Ah,” Lieutenant Commander Ramon Cortez smiled easily, not at all fazed, “figured a leisurely cruise down might be nice.”
“You’re a dork, Ram,” grumbled Furry as he rolled his eyes in annoyance. The two had studied and graduated the same year at the Academy, which was a miracle considering how often they spent in front of the Commandant’s office.

Of course, while Furry went career, Cortez returned to his native Dunedin and transferred over to the Starfleet Reserve to fly for the 667th Shuttle Squadron.

“And you’re you,” Cortez beamed happily at him.

“Great comeback.” Furry snorted.

“I know, right?”

Furry just shook his head and focused on the shorter Tellarite, noting that he too was sporting a Starfleet standard issue purplish blue one-piece jumpsuit.

He then glanced at Cortez. “Who’s your friend, Ram?”

“Oh, that would be Warrant Officer Hothav Naw.”

*
Still hunched on the tip of her toes, Vera continued studying the two bodies while holding the tarp aside.

“You a scientist or something?” Sokowska asked as she joined her.

“Huh?”

“You’ve got a teal stripe across your chest and shoulders,” Sokowska announced as she nodded at Vera.

“Oh,” she looked at her arm, and back at Sokowski. “Medical.”

Sokowska raised an eyebrow as she enquired. “You a doctor?”

“Nurse actually,” replied Vera offhandedly, and then sighed. “No offense to you, ma’am, but this would go a hell of a lot faster if we just took the bodies aboard the Oly. I’ve done my share of autopsies in the past, even a Denobulan once.”

“It’s still my crime-scene,” Sokowska reminded her.

“You’re point?” Vera frowned, and yet managed to keep straight face.

“I’m in charge.”

“Yeah . . . unfortunately you’re not, ma’am,” Vera said.

Sokowska frowned.

“But tell you what,” Vera bulldozed through, before the detective inspector could argue her point. “You’re a cop, and a pretty good one if you made it all the way to DI? So here’s a deal. Join us and supervise the autopsies if you’d like. Ambler and I, we’re assigned here. You on the hand know the layout of every settlement on this planet, and know people who know people.”

Sokowska cocked her head, still not convinced.

“It be good having the chance to know you better,” put in the petty officer, grinning as she joined them.

Dubious, Sokowska considered her options.

*
Furry himself was dubious, and not because of a Tellarite sporting a Starfleet uniform.

Cortez was a natural shuttle pilot and really a throwback to another era, where jet fighters ruled supreme over Earth’s skies. By right, as a Lieutenant Commander, Cortez either should be in charge of one of the four departments that made up a shuttle squadron, or its executive officer. Instead it was neither.

Still, whatever the circumstances that brought Cortez here, Furry was grateful. As General Orders went, the one he was directed under was no easy picnic to say the least. Having a friendly face, and a competent pilot to boot, would certainly help.

He turned to regard Vera and the detective inspector, and raised an eyebrow as Barb said something to the cop.
Whatever was said, made the inspector rise to her feet as Furry returned.

“Alright, I’ll step aside,” Sokowska announced, and catching Furry off guard slightly.

He was expecting a fight, one where Bashir was involved.
“But I’m tagging along,” Sokowska said, nodding to Vera.

Furry frowned. That he did not expect. “You are?”

Sokowska smirked, and nodded at Vera. “She invited me,” she then said while walking past.

“Err . . .” Furry scratched the back of his neck, adjusted his cap and eyed his second-in-command suspiciously. “You invited her?”

Vera smiled in response. “She knows the layout of the land.”
Furry nodded slowly, noting that Barb was taking charge of Cortez and Naw; getting them to grab the stretches for the two bodies.

“So you invited her to tag along?” he mused as he glanced back at Vera.

The lieutenant commander nodded.

“Glad someone’s thinking straight,” countered Furry with a smile.

Vera just shook her head in bemusement.

 

[pio1776]

55 Thompson Rd
Helensburgh, Dunedin

It was getting cooler as T’hai finally stepped out of the shower, feeling refreshed. Toweling her short wet hair, the young woman padded her way into the living room with nothing else but her dignity. She was amazed really that she had taken an honest to gods shower with running water, and did so without feeling guilty. Not that water was scarce back on the homeworld, far from it.

Water was plentiful. No, it came down to the plumbing. Only the estates of the rich and powerful had the necessary plumbing infrastructure to have cold and warm running water. Her own barracks had them too, as the small but elite Teth Koros were deemed important enough to warrant it. The ordinary person not so much, unless they had the money to install a sonic shower.Here in Dunedin however, running water was available for all.

“I could get used to this,” she mused while walking around to the sofa and sat down, only to pick up the portable keyboard that linked to the E-Centre.

As she did, T’hai called up a map of the settlement.

Not that it was much of one, just five districts and a bus depot. Well, that and the Starfleet outpost half a kilometer from Balmacewen District. T’hai grinned in a very un-Vulcan manner.

 

[CeJay]

First, apologies for my SNAFU, apparently I mistakenly posted my comments on your earlier story in this thread.

I'm really enjoying this follow-up and the procedural approach so far which strikes a very different tone to the first installment. Also like the classic jurisdictional squabbles which are likely commonplace in a galaxy in which Starfleet co-exists with various local authorities.

This cast of characters is fun and their rapport is light-hearted and not exactly what you would expect from Starfleet officers. Also, rare to see a nurse being bumped up to XO, but Vera is really likable and proactive.

The only point stretching believability so far: That Ford would still make a Fiesta in the 22nd century ...

 

[pio1776]

CHAPTER FOUR


Iceland-class starship, designation Olympus Mons
Geocentric Orbit, Dunedin, Sirius A
Friday, 22 November 2154

“I thought you had a ready room for that,” announced Vera as he easily slid into the seat on the other side of the table.
“For what?” Furry looked up from a padd he was reading.

Vera nodded at the stack of padds. “That.”

“I was hungry,” protested Furry, checked his watch and yawned. It was a few minutes after midnight.

“Ah huh.” Vera looked on in amusement, as there was no sign of food or drink on the table. Not that it was hardly a surprise to her. Despite giving him grief for demonstrating a lack of ability to command, she wouldn’t have Furry any other way. He led people by instinct, and she had seen Ezra and Sean follow him without hesitation. If she had been honest with herself, she admired Furry for that.

Not that she could do anything about that now, not when Furry made her his second-in-command. Well, more like blurted out. But still, Starfleet had rules. In the interim, Vera will ensure he stay alive long enough when the opportunity presented itself once more. She refocused on Furry. “Let me guess. You got distracted?”

Furry frowned, and eyed her tiredly. “We got three dead crewmembers going home later on today,” he said, and shook his head. “By right, Oly should be the one taking them home, not some other. But here we are. . .” Furry picked up a padd. “. . . running after mysterious foes without as much as a clue to stand on.”

“Leg to stand on,” corrected Vera.

“Same diff,” replied Furry, not in the mood. “Ezra and Sean deserve better than that, damnit. Gina too.”
Vera closed her eyes briefly at the mention of the trio.

She knew that Furry had petitioned Admiral Stellingatti to take the three home to Earth, and give the crew a chance to say their goodbyes. The admiral had other ideas, and had given Captain Preston the task of taking the trio and the few remains of the crew of the UES Thalassa back to Earth. In turn, Furry was given jurisdiction over Vietnam and the medical frigate Charles Jenkinson, with both captains answering to him now.

“And how was the autopsy?” he asked, making Vera snap back to the here and now.

“Normal,” she replied. Upon seeing his blank expression, Vera elaborated. “Whoever it was that killed them, did so by applying a Vulcan nerve pinch between the neck and shoulder of both victims and then snapped their necks.”

“So a humanitarian kill?” he voiced.

“Barb seemed to think so, yes.”

“Barb?”

“One of Jamal’s people,” offered Vera.

“Oh.”

She frowned. “Have you eaten?”

“What?”

“Food, Numb Nuts. stuff that supposed to nourish you on a day by day basis,” she replied gently, and sighed as she rose to her feet. “How about I whip something up from the galley, hmmm?

Furry nodded agreement, albeit absently as he returned his attention back to the padd in his hand.

“Have you heard from Commander Bennett?” asked Vera as she ventured to the closed off area of the mass hall.

“Only that they’ve picked up the bodies found by the trawler a few hours ago,” said Furry absently. “Told me that having that cop present helped smooth the prickly feathers of the local constabulary.”

Vera looked on in amusement as she went for the bread bin.

Ever since joining the growing task force, Detective Inspector Ludmila Sokowska had proven herself a worthy addition when Charles Jenkinson was tasked to pick up the alien bodies from Somfield Island in the Canterbury Sea.

“And?” she asked.

This time, Furry turned around and grinned lopsided.

“And I told her that it was entirely you’re idea,” he announced happily.

Vera smiled back despite herself. “Thought it was a good idea at the time.”

 

[pio1776]

Starfleet Communications Outpost 4
half a kilometer from Balmacewen District
Helensburgh, New Scotland Desert, Dunedin

Darkness ruled supreme despite the new day being only a few minutes old, which suited T’hai just fine as she walked the distance in her lightweight robes. Not that anyone paid her much attention, which intrigued her somewhat. Intelligence had identified an anti-alien group as being very active on Earth and her colonies, but in her short stay she had seen none of it here.

She shrugged as she continued walking. The communications outpost was just ahead and T’hai could just hear the distinct whine of a shuttlepod lifting off. A moment later, she saw it fly by.

As she did, she pressed on as she headed off the road.

*
The Special Warfare chief petty officer zipped up his anti-plasma vest and shivered slightly despite the rather warm night. With Chief Bashir on detached duty with Tom and Barb, the job of commanding the eight members of Second Team fell on his shoulders. Not that he minded. The extra time in command would look favourable on his next promotion interview, especially if were to get his own team down the line.

The chief stopped momentarily to adjust the EM-50 rifle, and his eyes went wide in shock as someone grabbed from behind. Before he could react however, the last thing he heard was his neck breaking. As he was lowered to the ground, his comm crackled to life as Petty Officer 1st Class Glen Ford came online.

“Bravo-Two-Two, this is Two-Ten,” Ford sounded via the small comm speakers as they and the weapons were liberated from the dead chief. “Just doing a sweep by the loos, join you in five. Okay?”

T’hai clicked the comm twice in response, thankful for the similarities in communication protocols between those of her unit and that of the humans.

Satisfied with her newfound weapons, she quickly checked for anything else. Starfleet used a combination of key-cards, retina scans and fingerprints for access and she suspected that this facility would be no different. As she did, she spotted the lethal looking knife.

“This could come in handy,” surmised T’hai as she eyed the dead man’s baby faced expression, and went to work quickly.

*
Petty Officer Ford tapped the side of his comm set, and frowned.

“Come on, Dave!” he grumbled. “Where the fuck are you?”

Of course, Chief Petty Officer Dave Waide was never one for joking about. The guy was bucking for a promotion and his own team, and the only way to do that was by an interview panel of current team and troop leaders within the programme. To be even considered for an interview, let alone a team command, Dave had to prove himself.

Thus far, the Chief had his head up his arse dreaming.

Ford sighed, and started to turn when he saw a lump of--well--something. His curiosity getting better of him, Ford found himself holding onto his assault rifle as he trotted over. As he did, the lump begun to morph into the familiar purplish blue that Starfleet issued.

Ford swallowed hard as he neared, his rifle now pointing at what he was looking at.

As he moved around, Ford swore he found himself staring at Chief David Waide.

“This is Two-Ten to all units!” he cried into the headset. “Man down! Armed intruder alert! I repeat. Man down and armed intruder alert! Lock the base down. Now!”

“State the medical emergency?” responded Two-Nine, the team’s other medic.

“Dave’s dead and missing his left eye and weapons,” Ford replied, completely oblivious to the fact that the main airlock into the domed enclosure just slid shut.

*
T’hai hurried, holding onto the pistol with one hand.

This was a manned facility, and Starfleet always fancied itself more as a civilian exploration agency. In other words, she would find someone to give her what she needed.


Bridge
Iceland-class starship, designation Olympus Mons
Geocentric Orbit, Dunedin, Sirius A

Why Vera made him the graveyard shift duty officer wasn’t entirely explained, though Lieutenant JG James Patterson suspected it was just the nursing practitioner flexing her ‘command muscles’, as it were.

“Incoming transmission from Helensburgh,” announced a petty officer, one of the last arrivals to bring the Olympus Mons to full strength.

Patterson turned, just as the petty officer frowned.

“What is it?” the junior lieutenant.

“Outpost Four, sir,” the petty officer replied as he continued to listen. “Intruder alert.”

Patterson frowned. He knew that the outpost was important.

“Captain and First Officer to the Bridge,” announced Patterson after activating the intercom.

“Furry here . . .”

“Ah,” Patterson looked on annoyed. really?--Sighing, he pressed on. “Communique from Outpost Four. They have an intruder alert.”

“Four?” asked Furry, “as in Helensburgh?”

“Yes sir.”

“Get us down there, Lieutenant.”

Patterson blinked. “You want us to go atmospheric?”

“That a problem?” demanded Furry.

Patterson considered the question, and eyed the graveyard shift flight control specialist. Suddenly, he grinned. “No problem, Captain.”

“Make it happen . . .” ordered Furry, and signed off.

 

[CeJay]

T’hai continues to leave a trail of dead bodies in her wake. She has clearly been trained well for this kind of thing and is determined to see her mission through. Can Furry and co. stop he before it's too late? And if so, at what cost?

Great, tension-filled set of chapters here. Hooking forward to more.

 

[pio1776]

CHAPTER FIVE


Starfleet Communications Outpost 4
half a kilometer from Balmacewen District
Helensburgh, New Scotland Desert, Dunedin

With the call made, Petty Officer Ford sighed.

As much as he wanted to stay and guard Dave’s body, he knew that he had a mission. The outpost was critical to the safety of Earth and her offworld territories, and it was his job to keep it safe.

“This is Two-Ten,” he said into his headset, “going in!”

*
T’hai closed the door, frowning. There was nothing there but an office cubicle, enough for two individuals. Upon checking their computer terminals, she realised they had no secrets. More importantly, they were not connected to the outpost’s mainframe.

She moved further into the building, the borrowed EM-50 assault rifle keenly hidden inside her robes. The corridor up ahead was wide, but empty of people. Considering the hour of the night, it made sense. Nonetheless, she held out that humans too had their own version of nightshift.

She moved fast, each new step more confident than the other.

“Don’t move!” shouted Ford behind her.

T’hai kept on moving.

As she did, a bolt ionised electromagnetic gas smashed into the bulkhead. T’hai turned without thinking and raised her EM-50 from within her robes, and returned fire. Not that she hit anything important, but it gave Ford pause as he stepped back.

Finally, she found someone of interest--or more accurately, they found her--as a door slid open. With one hand , T’hai pushed them back into the room.

“Lock the door if you value your life,” she snapped in perfect English, and making the human female stumble towards the door controls and snap the door shut.

T’hai looked about, noting the computer terminal on only desk.
“What is this room?” she turned to the human female.

“It’s my office.”

T’hai raised a single pointed eyebrow, noting the two solid and one hollow pip of a Lieutenant Commander on her uniform. “And what is it that you do, Commander?”

“Does it matter?” the human challenged.

T’hai just smiled and shot the woman in the leg, watching as she crumbled to the deck.

“I strongly recommend you cooperate with me, Commander,” T’hai intoned, ignoring as someone was knocking at the
locked door.

“And if I don’t?”

The smile broadened, “Then you die.”

 

[pio1776]

*
Ciara Marquette blinked wasn’t sure if the Vulcan woman was bluffing or not, but the sudden whine and snap of a fired bolt made her jump in surprise. Suddenly, Marquette blinked, getting the sense that T’hai wasn’t kidding.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” the Vulcan purred on happily, while weighing up the assault rifle in her grip.

Breathing heavily, she refocused on T’hai.

“What is your role here?” demanded T’hai.

Marquette wasn’t one for heroics. “Chief Intelligence Analyst and primary linguist.”

“Handy . . .”

Marquette waited.

“Can you lock down the outpost?”

Marquette nodded.

“Do it . . .”

 

[pio1776]

Iceland-class starship, designation Olympus Mons
In atmosphere
En route to Helensburgh, Dunedin, Sirius A

The inertial dampeners were doing a stellar job in making Furry feel that he was walking uphill, but then the the angle of the deck may have something to do with it.

“Outpost just ahead, Captain!” Vera sounded over the intraship.

Furry grunted in response, and eyed the assembled away team members. In addition to himself and Lieutenant Patterson, the team consisted of Bashir and his two subordinates. He eyed the two non-coms with obvious curiosity, but that was as far as it went. His clearance levels only went so far, General Order 26 or no at his side.

“Any word from your people, Jamal?” he turned to the big Algerian.

“Yes sir,” the chief warrant officer replied.

Furry waited. When he realised nothing more was forthcoming from Bashir, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his index and forefinger. “Care to elaborate, Jamal?” he asked.

Bashir just stared at him. “Yes sir.”

“And?”

“The outpost has been placed under lock-down.”

Furry frowned at that. “How’s that happen?”

“Commander Marquette, sir,” Bashir said.

Furry blinked in annoyance at the lieutenant commander’s mention. Marquette had been part of the first wave of responders and hangers on when Ambler first received his marching orders. What she was doing in the outpost when she should have been with Detective Inspector Sokowska was a mystery.

Not liking where that line of thought was going, Furry walked over to a bulkhead comm unit.

“Vera,” he started upon toggling the comm.

“Go ahead, Captain?”

“Get with Moana Rua and see if we can get a clear crew manifest,” he instructed, paused and then added. “And ask them what’s the protocols for unlocking the outpost. I’d hate to blow up the front door.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” replied Vera, sounding amused.

Furry nodded and signed off, just as they landed.

*
The ramp lowered a few minutes later, and Furry halted long enough for Bashir to take lead.

He watched as the heavily armed soldier approached the first of the waiting sentries, neither of whom saluting one another.

“Status report, Mr Gully?” Bashir snapped.

“All entry points are sealed off, Chief,” Gully replied. “One casualty.”

“Who?”

“Chief Waide, sir,” replied Gully. “Killed by having his neck snapped.”

Bashir’s eyes narrowed as he considered that news, confident that Furry had come to the same conclusion: whoever was inside the outpost was the same one who killed the elderly couple.

“Captain,” Bashir turned to regard Furry. “If this alien is inside the outpost, there’s a high chance they’ll be going after classified material.”

Furry gave him a side glance. “Yeah . . .” he frowned, “. . . ah . . . kinda figured that, Chief.”

Bashir cocked his head slightly, and then nodded with considerable thoughtfulness. “What are your orders, Captain?” he then wanted to know.

 

[pio1776]

CHAPTER SIX



Starfleet Communications Outpost 4
half a kilometer from Balmacewen District
Helensburgh, New Scotland Desert, Dunedin

T’hai gestured for the human female to move aside and settled into the chair behind the desk, her eyes on the computer screen.

“Intelligence officer, huh, Commander?” she mused, smiling as she turned to Marquette briefly. “What’s your username and password if you’ll be so kind.”

Marquette just stared at her defiantly.

“Oh please,” replied T’hai just shook her head, picked up the assault rifle and shot Marquette.

Screaming and clutching her leg, Marquette whimpered. “Username and password, Commander,” T’hai urged.

Marquette supplied it.

T’hai nodded as she typed them into the terminal. “Now that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” she said after a moment, fingering the rifle and then shot Marquette squarely in the chest. “Thank you.”

T’hai placed the rifle back down, and called up the outpost’s capabilities. Upon realising that she could control the comm relay from this very terminal, the Vulcan imposter giggled. The domed facility had a transceiver that could be pointed anywhere in the sky. She sat back, pondering her options.

Astronomy was never her strong suit, even though it had been a prerequisite in her training. Still, she understood the basics and quickly found the star that her homeworld orbited.

Inputting the instructions into the computer, she watched as the programme indicated that the transceiver was pointing at Romulus. She grinned.

“Nice strong name,” she murmured. “Now to call home . . .”


*

Furry took on an air of disgust as he flipped the communicator shut, and pocketed it in his upper arm as he walked back.

“So we’ve got some good and bad news,” said Furry.

Bashir and his team turned as one, watching him keenly.

Furry slowed and suddenly felt like he had just been dissected by ten very lethal individuals.

With a frown, Furry shook off the thought. “Sirius Command hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with access codes into the building, something to do with Starfleet Intelligence not liking the idea . . . or something along those lines,” he said, addressing Bashir as he did. “Any word from your guy on the inside?”

“Only that shots were fired and access to Commander Marquette’s office was locked off,” said Bashir.

“Anything else?”

“No sir.”

“Very well then,” countered Furry, and frowned. “Ideas on how to get in?”

“We can always send a torpedo through the front door,” offered Bashir.

 

[pio1776]

A torpedo sent flying through the front door, now that was a mental image worth savouring. Furry’s intrigue shot up at the idea, as the former armoury officer in him warmed to the idea. The starship captain part of him advised an alternative course of action.

Partly wishing he had someone else senior in rank to pass the decision onto, Furry took a step back and studied the domed communications array.

He then studied the adjoining administration building.

“Chief Bashir,” he started, turning to regard the chief warrant officer, “short of torpedoing the front door, what do you recommend we do?”

“Transporters, sir,” offered Petty Officer Kirk.

Bashir blinked, and gave his engineering specialist a side glance.

“Transporters?” echoed Furry. “I thought they were dangerous.”

“No, sir,” Kirk shook his head. “The Enterprise first used them to beam out Captain Archer off a Suliban base back in Fifty-one, and Starfleet Medical has cleared it for biological transfers. The point is, the facility doesn’t have a means to stop us from beaming straight in.”

“Tom has a point there,” offered Bashir begrudgingly.

“All right,” Furry nodded slowly in response. “Transporters it is.

“Chief,” he turned back to Bashir. “Round up the rest of the armoury personnel aboard Oly, kit them out and pair them up with your people. We’re beaming over.”

Bashir frowned. “We?”

“I’m coming too,” Furry said simply.

“Sir, my people are more than adequate for the task at hand,” Bashir protested, “and we have a significant higher security clearance to be in there.”

Furry figured that to be the case. Giving a highly trained Ranger Team the appropriate security clearance made sense, especially when they were tasked to protect something too sensitive for regular security. Still, he wasn’t going to ask his people to do something he was not willing to do.

Furry was about to say something to that effect.

“Plus, you are the overall commander of this task force.” Bashir bet him to the punch. “It be more prudent that you remain aboard the Olympus Mons to oversee the operation, sir. We can link our video feeds into the ship’s tactical systems.”

“Will your people be enough?”

“Captain, we have a foreign operative inside a secure Starfleet facility.” Bashir stared back. “Incidentally, the same foreign operative who killed one of my people. No offense intended, I intend to repay the sentiment.”

“We need them alive,” said Furry levelly.

“Meaning?” Bashir challenged, taking a step forward.

“Meaning that I expect a pulse when you’re done,” replied Furry in the same tone as he stood his ground. “We clear, Chief?”

Bashir gave him a blank stare. “Crystal.”

 

[pio1776]

CHAPTER SEVEN


Starfleet Communications Outpost 4
half a kilometer from Balmacewen District
Helensburgh, New Scotland Desert, Dunedin

Jamal Bashir considered the statement, or was that compromise? After twenty-eight years in the military, four of which were in the Starfleet Special Warfare Command, the Algerian normally took everything coming from a commissioned officer as an order.

Despite the bland expression on his face, Bashir nonetheless studied his commanding officer. Furry acted on impulse and generally led from the front, which became clear when he led the away team that first made contact with the hostiles just on three days ago. The fact that Furry was pretty handy with a Holben-Ridley EM-50 Assault Rifle and EM-33 pistol had impressed Bashir, especially when he discovered that Furry’s mother had been a MACO before running off with some freighter crew.

The likelihood that Furry could keep up with Second Team, Bravo Troop, were relatively high. But the man was a starship captain and responsible for the ad hoc task force. Furry was needed there, not playing cat and mouse with foreign agents.
Without as much as another word, Bashir turned to regard his team.

“You heard the Captain!” barked Bashir. “Transporter it is.”

Giving Furry a final look, in case anything else was forthcoming, Bashir nodded and started towards the ship. “Tom, get on the comm with Glenn. I want five designated beam-in points into the outpost.”

The bearded engineering specialist grinned, and took off at a trot.

“Franek, go with Tom,” Bashir said next.

Crewman Franek Barnwell grunted and peeled off.

“Lion, you and Chevy,” Bashir said next. “Get with Commander Hernandez about hooking our gear to the ship’s tactical systems. I want us to be fully integrated into Olympus Mons by the time we beam in.”

“Roger that,” replied Petty Officer 1/c Lion Cheaney.

“I hear she’s a babe, Lion,” announced Petty Officer 2/c Chevy Bolmer as he paired up with the other.

“In your dreams, my friend,” Cheaney countered with a snigger.”

“Probably . . .”

“Wanda and Sherman, ” Bashir continued after giving the two a hard stare. The two looked on expectantly. “You’ve got science detail. I want you to log in and see if our alien friend had managed to snoop inside the outpost’s more critical systems.”

The two nodded, and raced off to get ready. Finally, Bashir turned to the last two of his team. “You two have security detail,” Bashir told them, and pointed at the front entry into the outpost. “Anything coming out that isn’t the team, shoot on sight.”

 

[pio1776]

CHAPTER SEVEN


Starfleet Communications Outpost 4
Half a kilometer from Balmacewen District
Helensburgh, New Scotland Desert, Dunedin

Jamal Bashir considered the statement, or was that compromise? After twenty-eight years in the military, four of which were in the Starfleet Special Warfare Command, the Algerian normally took everything coming from a commissioned officer as an order.

Despite the bland expression on his face, Bashir nonetheless studied his commanding officer. Furry acted on impulse and generally led from the front, which became clear when he led the away team that first made contact with the hostiles just on three days ago. The fact that Furry was pretty handy with a Holben-Ridley EM-50 Assault Rifle and EM-33 pistol had impressed Bashir, especially when he discovered that Furry’s mother had been a MACO before running off with some freighter crew.

The likelihood that Furry could keep up with Second Team, Bravo Troop, were relatively high. But the man was a starship captain and responsible for the ad hoc task force. Furry was needed there, not playing cat and mouse with foreign agents.
Without as much as another word, Bashir turned to regard his team.

“You heard the Captain!” barked Bashir. “Transporter it is.”

Giving Furry a final look, in case anything else was forthcoming, Bashir nodded and started towards the ship.
“Tom, get on the comm with Glenn. I want five designated beam-in points into the outpost.”

The bearded engineering specialist grinned, and took off at a trot.

“Franek, go with Tom,” Bashir said next.

Crewman Franek Barnwell grunted and peeled off.

“Lion, you and Chevy,” Bashir said next. “Get with Commander Hernandez about hooking our gear to the ship’s tactical systems. I want us to be fully integrated into Olympus Mons by the time we beam in.”

“Roger that,” replied Petty Officer 1/c Lion Cheaney.

“I hear she’s a babe, Lion,” announced Petty Officer 2/c Chevy Bolmer as he paired up with the other.

“In your dreams, my friend,” Cheaney countered with a snigger.”

“Probably . . .”

“Wanda and Sherman, ” Bashir continued after giving the two a hard stare. The two looked on expectantly. “You’ve got science detail. I want you to log in and see if our alien friend had managed to snoop inside the outpost’s more critical systems.”

The two nodded, and raced off to get ready. Finally, Bashir turned to the last two of his team. “You two have security detail,” Bashir told them, and pointed at the front entry into the outpost. “Anything coming out that isn’t the team, shoot on sight.”

*
As he trailed behind the team, Furry considered the instructions being issued out. Working in twos made perfect sense, almost standard practice amongst regular armoury personnel on away teams.

“What about you, Chief?” asked Furry as he caught up with the chief warrant officer.

“I’ll beam in alone and pair up with Glenn,” Bashir said simply.
For a moment, Furry wanted to insist in coming along, but decided against it. Besides, Bashir had a point. He was needed aboard Oly to coordinate everything.

Furry slowed, annoyed with himself. He really wanted to be part of the away team.


Iceland-class starship, designation Olympus Mons
Landed outside Starfleet Communications Outpost 4
Helensburgh, Dunedin, Sirius A

“Maybe mum had a point,” grumbled Furry as he entered the ship.

“Sir?” a passing crewman paused, giving him a look.

Furry waved him off and quickly made his way to the command deck, and finally stepped through the threshold that separated the bridge from the rest of the ship. Not that he recognised anyone bar from Lieutenant Patterson and Crewman Tao, seated in his command chair and engineering respectfully.

“Status report, Lieutenant,” demanded Furry, noting that Patterson was now vacating his seat.

“Ah,” the junior lieutenant came to attention, “Commander Hernandez is downstairs in Tactical with Petty Officers Cheaney and Bolmer, assisting Commander Cortez is setting up the video feeds from the team.”

“Very good,” said Furry as he made a beeline for his office.
He then stopped, and turned to face Patterson. “Oh . . . and please inform Chief Bashir I want an update before his team breaches the outpost.”

“Yes sir,” replied Patterson. “Should I have Medical standing by?”

Furry frowned. “We got a replacement already?”

“Just a corpsman from the Charles Jenkinson, sir.”

Furry nodded at that, and escaped into his office.