Author's Note: Ok, the only way I'm going to get back into writing is to post something. Then, I have an audience to worry about.
I've haven't been writing for several months, so if you are not familiar with Star Trek: Independence, it is part of the United Trek Universe and takes place post-Dominion War. Independence is a Steamrunner class ship. Many of my stories have a Section 31 story arc, including this one. It is the 17th installment of the series.
I hope you enjoy it!
*****
“L. Cassius ille quem populus Romanus verissimum et sapientissimum iudicem putabat identidem in causis quaerere solebat 'cui bono' fuisset”.
“The famous Lucius Cassius, whom the Roman people used to regard as a very honest and wise judge, was in the habit of asking, time and again, 'To whose benefit?'” -- Roman orator and statesman Marcus Tullius Cicero
*****
PROLOGUE
Stardate: 54607.4 (10 Aug 2377)
Kaleb Sector, near the Romulan Neutral Zone
Unregistered Smallcraft
“Come on, come on.”
Clayton Easton desperately viewed his sensor display. He was traveling at warp 8.794, as fast as his limited vessel could go. The cramped cockpit was made humid by his sweat. The engines had been redlining for several minutes. His one saving grace was that he got a head start. The pursuer out matched his speed by far. If they got within weapon’s range before he reached the Steamrunner’s sensor range, it’d be over in a fraction of a second.
The light-skinned human made minute adjustments to his course, shaving a tenth of a second here, a eighth there. It would be close.
His opponent would not be detected by his savior. There were only a handful of sensors in the quadrant that could see the threat.
The enemy was gaining. At this rate, he’d be little more than carbon molecules floating in space.
As a last ditch effort, he broadcast on an emergency channel. “Starfleet vessel, Starfleet vessel: my warp core is about to go critical,” which wasn’t far from the truth. “Please rendezvous as soon as possible!”
The response came, after what seemed like an eternity. A confidant, female voice informed him, “This is the Federation starship Independence. We have received your mayday and are on an intercept course. Confirm.”
“Confirmed,” Clayton quickly replied.
The icon that represented the Starfleet ship began moving toward him. Good, he thought. They must have gone to maximum warp.
His rival, shown on his display as a simple, red dot, continued. They wouldn’t let him go easily, but were they willing to fight Starfleet over him? He didn’t think so…he hoped not. If he was wrong, this whole race would be for nothing.
Easton’s hands became clammy. The controls were slippery as a result.
Intense seconds became unbearable minutes. There was nothing left to do but to play this contest out.
The hostile would be in weapon range in seconds. He would, in those same seconds, be within the Independence’s sphere of protection.
‘Surely, they wouldn’t destroy a starship over me. I’m not worth the attention that gets. Right? God, let me be right.’
He was now in weapons range. He was dead. Ironically, he had provided the perfect cover story for his own death to Starfleet.
“This is the Independence. Prepare for emergency transport.”
All he could do was hold his breath. There was probably a phased torpedo heading his way, right now. He felt the tingle of the transporter.
*****
Supplemental
USS Independence, MainBridge
Kaleb Sector
Captain Sintina Aurelia watched as the small vessel exploded into a fireball on the main viewer. Her eyes met her first officer’s, Karim bin Nadal. She didn’t hold out much hope.
It was Karim that asked the question, “Transporter room, did you get the pilot?”
There was a moment of stillness on the bridge.
“Yes sir, we have him.”
Before they could break out into a smile, another voice interrupted the transporter operator, “Captain, you must raise your shields! Call for a red alert!”
Sintina scrunched up her jet black eye brows and almost had a look of amusement on her face. She began, “This is Captain Aurelia. Why…”
“Please captain, now!”
She looked to bin Nadal for his opinion. He gave a shrug of the shoulders. The Latina threw up her hands, “Hey, why not?” She said rather calmly, “Red Alert.”
Immediately, the lighting changed and the ship came to a defensive stance.
She turned to the Andorian security chief, “Lieutenant, would you be so kind as to escort our visitor to my ready room.”
Jonin Faltyne nodded and proceeded off the bridge.
*****
Supplemental
USS Independence, Captain’s Ready Room
Kaleb Sector
The doors parted for Clayton. The captain was a petite, yet athletic looking woman. Her black hair was in a simple pony tail. She sat behind her desk, looking at him expectantly. Her first officer, a Persian, looked back from a chair as he entered.
Sintina dispensed with the pleasantries. She asked, in a remarkably polite tone, “Why did you have us go to red alert?”
The door closed behind Clayton and Jonin, whom had not been relieved of his charge, yet.
The man approached the desk and explained chaoticly, “Because there’s a ship out there. It blew up my vessel, not the warp core. I wonder if they’re still out there? You weren’t fired upon were you? No, of course not. We wouldn’t be talking, if you had. If they know I made it to your ship, they’ll tail us. They might attack still, but I doubt it…at least not directly.”
Aurelia held up a hand to stop him, “Who is out there?”
It took a second for him to process the question. To him it was too obvious to ask, but then again, she didn’t know. “The Directorate,” he rejoined.
“Who?” repeated Karim.
Clayton stumbled, “There is no actual name for the Directorate. That’s the whole point, they don’t exist. Some people call them the Agency, some call them Section 31.”
At the mention of Section 31, Sintina pointed an accusatory finger at the commander, “For the love of god, Karim, if you got me sucked in to another goddamn shadow play…”
He put his hands up, “I haven’t talked to…our contact…for a month. This is news to me.”
“Admiral Nechayev,” said Easton.
Shocked, both the captain and the first officer said, “What?”
Clayton acted like it was old news, and it was to him. He was still breathing heavy, “Section 31 knows she’s a figurehead in the resistance. They know you two have worked for her. That’s why I came to you.”
“What do you mean?” came for Karim.
Finally, he took a deep breath, “About a month ago, someone leaked Admiral Nechayev’s name to a 31 agent. I was stationed at Starbase 39-sierra…”
“Because of me,” interrupted bin Nadal. He was almost talking to himself.
Clayton paused, “What?”
Karim sighed, “They know her name because of me.” He attempted to defend himself, “A Chameloid tricked me…”
There was a short quiet. Then, Easton piped up, “Don’t worry about it. It happens to the best of us.”
The words didn’t seem to comfort the first officer. Despite that, Clayton continued, “I was stationed at Starbase 39-sierra. I monitored sub-space traffic within the Romulan Empire for the Agency.” He added, as if to redeem himself, “I’m only a low level operative. I’ve never killed anyone or destabilized any government…well, not directly.” He wondered off for a second, then went on, “Anyway, I found out a long time ago the Directorate was overstepping its bounds. A lot of people didn’t like it. So when I was approached a few years ago to help the resistance, I agreed. I mean, they only wanted me to pass on a message there, delete a transmission here.” Again, he became distracted with his thoughts.
Sintina prompted him, “So let’s go back to the point in the story when you decided to drag us into it.”
“Well,” he said, “When they found out about Nechayev, they tracked her back to me.” He laughed humorlessly, “I guess I didn’t cover my tracks good enough.”
Karim chimed in, “Do they have her?”
“Nechayev?” Easton asked. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Last I heard she was going to try to stay as visible as possible.” He remarked, “Staying in the public eye is really the best defense against the Directorate.”
“Will they try to assassinate her?”
“I don’t know. They may just try to discredit her.”
Aurelia leaned in and said deliberately, “So, why did you come here?”
He paused. “Well, you were the closest, friendly ship I knew of.”
“That was your great plan to avoid Section 31?” Sintina said harshly, “Come to my ship and bring even more attention to us?”
Clayton bit his bottom lip and looked away.
“With respect,” began bin Nadal, “Section 31 already knows we’re part of the resistance. It’s not like it can get much worse.”
‘Part of the resistance,’ Sintina repeated in her head. ‘Goddamn it.’ But there was no denying it now. She was waist deep in it, probably more.
END OF PROLOGUE
I've haven't been writing for several months, so if you are not familiar with Star Trek: Independence, it is part of the United Trek Universe and takes place post-Dominion War. Independence is a Steamrunner class ship. Many of my stories have a Section 31 story arc, including this one. It is the 17th installment of the series.
I hope you enjoy it!
*****
“L. Cassius ille quem populus Romanus verissimum et sapientissimum iudicem putabat identidem in causis quaerere solebat 'cui bono' fuisset”.
“The famous Lucius Cassius, whom the Roman people used to regard as a very honest and wise judge, was in the habit of asking, time and again, 'To whose benefit?'” -- Roman orator and statesman Marcus Tullius Cicero
*****
PROLOGUE
Stardate: 54607.4 (10 Aug 2377)
Kaleb Sector, near the Romulan Neutral Zone
Unregistered Smallcraft
“Come on, come on.”
Clayton Easton desperately viewed his sensor display. He was traveling at warp 8.794, as fast as his limited vessel could go. The cramped cockpit was made humid by his sweat. The engines had been redlining for several minutes. His one saving grace was that he got a head start. The pursuer out matched his speed by far. If they got within weapon’s range before he reached the Steamrunner’s sensor range, it’d be over in a fraction of a second.
The light-skinned human made minute adjustments to his course, shaving a tenth of a second here, a eighth there. It would be close.
His opponent would not be detected by his savior. There were only a handful of sensors in the quadrant that could see the threat.
The enemy was gaining. At this rate, he’d be little more than carbon molecules floating in space.
As a last ditch effort, he broadcast on an emergency channel. “Starfleet vessel, Starfleet vessel: my warp core is about to go critical,” which wasn’t far from the truth. “Please rendezvous as soon as possible!”
The response came, after what seemed like an eternity. A confidant, female voice informed him, “This is the Federation starship Independence. We have received your mayday and are on an intercept course. Confirm.”
“Confirmed,” Clayton quickly replied.
The icon that represented the Starfleet ship began moving toward him. Good, he thought. They must have gone to maximum warp.
His rival, shown on his display as a simple, red dot, continued. They wouldn’t let him go easily, but were they willing to fight Starfleet over him? He didn’t think so…he hoped not. If he was wrong, this whole race would be for nothing.
Easton’s hands became clammy. The controls were slippery as a result.
Intense seconds became unbearable minutes. There was nothing left to do but to play this contest out.
The hostile would be in weapon range in seconds. He would, in those same seconds, be within the Independence’s sphere of protection.
‘Surely, they wouldn’t destroy a starship over me. I’m not worth the attention that gets. Right? God, let me be right.’
He was now in weapons range. He was dead. Ironically, he had provided the perfect cover story for his own death to Starfleet.
“This is the Independence. Prepare for emergency transport.”
All he could do was hold his breath. There was probably a phased torpedo heading his way, right now. He felt the tingle of the transporter.
*****
Supplemental
USS Independence, MainBridge
Kaleb Sector
Captain Sintina Aurelia watched as the small vessel exploded into a fireball on the main viewer. Her eyes met her first officer’s, Karim bin Nadal. She didn’t hold out much hope.
It was Karim that asked the question, “Transporter room, did you get the pilot?”
There was a moment of stillness on the bridge.
“Yes sir, we have him.”
Before they could break out into a smile, another voice interrupted the transporter operator, “Captain, you must raise your shields! Call for a red alert!”
Sintina scrunched up her jet black eye brows and almost had a look of amusement on her face. She began, “This is Captain Aurelia. Why…”
“Please captain, now!”
She looked to bin Nadal for his opinion. He gave a shrug of the shoulders. The Latina threw up her hands, “Hey, why not?” She said rather calmly, “Red Alert.”
Immediately, the lighting changed and the ship came to a defensive stance.
She turned to the Andorian security chief, “Lieutenant, would you be so kind as to escort our visitor to my ready room.”
Jonin Faltyne nodded and proceeded off the bridge.
*****
Supplemental
USS Independence, Captain’s Ready Room
Kaleb Sector
The doors parted for Clayton. The captain was a petite, yet athletic looking woman. Her black hair was in a simple pony tail. She sat behind her desk, looking at him expectantly. Her first officer, a Persian, looked back from a chair as he entered.
Sintina dispensed with the pleasantries. She asked, in a remarkably polite tone, “Why did you have us go to red alert?”
The door closed behind Clayton and Jonin, whom had not been relieved of his charge, yet.
The man approached the desk and explained chaoticly, “Because there’s a ship out there. It blew up my vessel, not the warp core. I wonder if they’re still out there? You weren’t fired upon were you? No, of course not. We wouldn’t be talking, if you had. If they know I made it to your ship, they’ll tail us. They might attack still, but I doubt it…at least not directly.”
Aurelia held up a hand to stop him, “Who is out there?”
It took a second for him to process the question. To him it was too obvious to ask, but then again, she didn’t know. “The Directorate,” he rejoined.
“Who?” repeated Karim.
Clayton stumbled, “There is no actual name for the Directorate. That’s the whole point, they don’t exist. Some people call them the Agency, some call them Section 31.”
At the mention of Section 31, Sintina pointed an accusatory finger at the commander, “For the love of god, Karim, if you got me sucked in to another goddamn shadow play…”
He put his hands up, “I haven’t talked to…our contact…for a month. This is news to me.”
“Admiral Nechayev,” said Easton.
Shocked, both the captain and the first officer said, “What?”
Clayton acted like it was old news, and it was to him. He was still breathing heavy, “Section 31 knows she’s a figurehead in the resistance. They know you two have worked for her. That’s why I came to you.”
“What do you mean?” came for Karim.
Finally, he took a deep breath, “About a month ago, someone leaked Admiral Nechayev’s name to a 31 agent. I was stationed at Starbase 39-sierra…”
“Because of me,” interrupted bin Nadal. He was almost talking to himself.
Clayton paused, “What?”
Karim sighed, “They know her name because of me.” He attempted to defend himself, “A Chameloid tricked me…”
There was a short quiet. Then, Easton piped up, “Don’t worry about it. It happens to the best of us.”
The words didn’t seem to comfort the first officer. Despite that, Clayton continued, “I was stationed at Starbase 39-sierra. I monitored sub-space traffic within the Romulan Empire for the Agency.” He added, as if to redeem himself, “I’m only a low level operative. I’ve never killed anyone or destabilized any government…well, not directly.” He wondered off for a second, then went on, “Anyway, I found out a long time ago the Directorate was overstepping its bounds. A lot of people didn’t like it. So when I was approached a few years ago to help the resistance, I agreed. I mean, they only wanted me to pass on a message there, delete a transmission here.” Again, he became distracted with his thoughts.
Sintina prompted him, “So let’s go back to the point in the story when you decided to drag us into it.”
“Well,” he said, “When they found out about Nechayev, they tracked her back to me.” He laughed humorlessly, “I guess I didn’t cover my tracks good enough.”
Karim chimed in, “Do they have her?”
“Nechayev?” Easton asked. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Last I heard she was going to try to stay as visible as possible.” He remarked, “Staying in the public eye is really the best defense against the Directorate.”
“Will they try to assassinate her?”
“I don’t know. They may just try to discredit her.”
Aurelia leaned in and said deliberately, “So, why did you come here?”
He paused. “Well, you were the closest, friendly ship I knew of.”
“That was your great plan to avoid Section 31?” Sintina said harshly, “Come to my ship and bring even more attention to us?”
Clayton bit his bottom lip and looked away.
“With respect,” began bin Nadal, “Section 31 already knows we’re part of the resistance. It’s not like it can get much worse.”
‘Part of the resistance,’ Sintina repeated in her head. ‘Goddamn it.’ But there was no denying it now. She was waist deep in it, probably more.
END OF PROLOGUE
