Star Trek: Chimera 2203 - Episode Five: "The Dishonesty Of Anger, Part 2"

[Orbing Master]

Written by Alex Matthews
Created by Jonathan Crosby-Bromley and Alex Matthews
Based on 'Star Trek' created by Gene Roddenberry

Produced by Sojournerverse Productions

STARRING

Matt Damon as CAPTAIN CHRISTOPHER APRIL
Rose Leslie as COMMANDER MAYA KENT
Christina Chang as DR PATRICIA SONG
Ed Skrein as COMMANDER WARREN MACKENZIE
Gabriel-Kane Day-Lewis as LT. EDWARD HEMMINGWAY
Jack Hunter as LT. TIMOTHY DI MARCO
Lesley-Ann Brandt as COMMANDER ANNIKA BARD
Natalie Dormer as LT. COMMANDER SIRANNA

GUEST STARRING

Gwendoline Christie as LT. FREIDA RASMUSSEN
Devan Chandler Long as SECURITY CHIEF HANK ANDERSON
Sanaa Latham as DR. OLIVIA KENDRICK
Jeffrey Dean Morgan as JACK BATESON
TBA as ASSISTANT DIRECTOR VERAN LERAK
and
Mark Lenard as SAREK

===============================================

As he sat with Olivia Kendrick and Sarek in the anteroom outside the office of Assistant Director Lerak, on one of the top floors of the Trade Commission's Executive Assembly, Chris April was beginning to wonder if the Jelna man realized how much sway over the lives and deaths of hundreds of innocents suffering that he currently had.

Or maybe he just doesn't care? The thought came unbidden, but April realized at that moment that his subconscious had a good point. In their prior talks with Lerak, it had become pretty clear that the politician had no love for the Hill People of the Argus River. What was it he said in that last meeting, about their 'backward thinking'?

Although they had received the call at the Consulate that Lerak was ready to see them, the three of them had been kept waiting for almost an hour, now. What little patience April had cultivated was dangerously close to wearing out and he wasn't alone in that respect. While Sarek was as stoic as ever, Kendrick seemed to be just as aggravated as April himself. She appeared to be the complete reverse of her direct superior, showing compassion and a genuine desire to do something about the situation on Rigel IV.

The young Zami woman who was Lerak's receptionist, perfectly coiffed red hair showing off elegantly pointed ears, decorated with an array of jewellery, finally lifted a hand to the small transceiver in one ear and listened for a moment. With a practised smile that did not reach her eyes, she addressed them, "The Assistant Director will see you now."

About damned time! April stood, eager to stretch his legs and get this tiresome bureaucratic nonsense done with. The sooner, the better, so we can finally get to what really needs to be done.

Veran Lerak stood behind his expansive desk, which could very well have been real wood to April's untrained eye. In fact, the entire office had a rather ostentatious look to it, almost to the point of gaudy. Showing off his wealth and status as much as he can, April realized with some mild distaste.

Lerak turned away from his large windows that showed the glorious vista that was New Jaleyl, meeting them with his own rehearsed 'politician's grin' securely in place, "My friends, forgive me for having kept you waiting all this time."

April didn't buy a word of it but kept his tongue firmly under control. Leave the diplomacy to the experts, Chris, he reminded himself. You're just here as a witness. He took a seat across from Lerak's desk, alongside Kendrick while Sarek chose to remain standing between the two of them. The Jelna man carried on as he too took his place, "As you can imagine, though, this situation has everyone more than a little concerned."

"All the more reason we need to meet with the Governing Board and get moving, Assistant Director," responded Kendrick with a directness April admired, while still maintaining her poise and polite manner.

Something about the look in Lerak's eyes did not sit right with April, even as he adopted a rather conciliatory tone, "In regards to that, I'm afraid that won't be as simple as it sounds."

April couldn't help the low growl in his throat as he spoke, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Lerak met his gaze ever-so-briefly, before becoming engrossed in a data-slate he picked up from his deck, "Unfortunately, the Board is not convinced that we should become involved."

"What?!" Kendrick practically jumped from her seat. Lerak almost dropped his data-slate in surprise, while April suppressed a grin of enjoyment at seeing that smug look of his vanishing, if only for a moment.

The dark-skinned human woman slapped her palms on the wooden desk, leaning in close, glaring at her boss with open incredulity, "Are you serious? Veran, you've read my report, the analyses made by Captain April's crew. You know what kind of problem we're dealing with here."

"One settlement, Olivia, does not constitute a problem," Lerak replied as smoothly as he could manage, trying to appear unfazed by Kendrick's righteous anger. But failing miserably.

Sarek spoke up for the first time, his voice cool and collected, "There are also the deaths of all the people at the observation outpost, which included Federation staff." His gaze fixed on Lerak, "Does the loss of those lives constitute a 'problem', Assistant Director."

It took a certain type of personality to face off against a Vulcan. April felt a certain satisfaction as it became clear that Lerak's was not one of those. His perfect facade cracked even more as he glared at the diplomat, "Please do not twist my words, Mr Sarek."

Sarek arched an eyebrow, "I am doing no such thing, Mr Lerak." There was a pregnant pause before he continued, "I would merely add that if the Governing Board have not been convinced of the urgency of this situation, the fault lies with you, not with any of us. Perhaps if the Diplomatic Corp was to pursue this with them instead...?"

Lerak's eyes widened a little too much. He really doesn't like that idea, April realized. "I don't believe we've reached that point, yet," he was quick to respond with, noticeably swallowing at the idea of Sarek going over his head. "The fact of the matter is, as upsetting as the deaths of the outpost personnel is, if the Hill People would move beyond their backward practices, all this could have been avoided. They are the ones who appear to have unleashed a horrible plague on their world."

He then forestalled Kendrick's angry protest before she could speak, "However, we will not ignore their plight. I simply need more hard data to show the Board."

"We've already uploaded everything we have so far to your main database," April reminded him, fighting hard to keep his growing anger and exasperation with the man from his voice. "Anything more my people find will be automatically relayed to the Hannock and transmitted directly."

Lerak nodded, that slick grin of his firmly back in place, "Then, I think that is all we have to discuss for now. I'll check for updates every hour and continue my efforts to convene the Board."

The dismissal in the words was clear. Kendrick stood first, shaking her head in clear disappointment, but she left without saying another word. April and Sarek followed silently behind, in an unspoken understanding that for now, keeping silent was the best option...

* * *

It had been three hours since Kent had assigned the four security guards who'd beamed down from the Hannock to positions along the defensive walls, supplementing the exhausted Hill People already there. Part of her had worried about the difficulty the inexperienced enlisted and non-commissioned crewmen might have in staring down a blood-thirsty, madness-driven enemy.

As it turned out, she shouldn't have been.

With repeated shots from flaming arrows, laser rifles and phase-pistols finally pushing the infected back, they had started turning on themselves. Closer and less troublesome targets, Kent had realized, more than aware of how macabre, yet accurate, that line of thinking was. Especially having witnessed their willingness to rip into their own number herself not too long ago.

Dusk had fallen as the main Rigel star set below the horizon, the more distant secondary still providing some decent modicum of light to see by without assistance. Kent made her way up the stairs to the main defensive position, planning on informing Petty Officer Markham that, now the situation seemed to have de-escalated, she would be returning to the Hannock soon.

With her phase-pistol in its holster, she carried a cup of strong black coffee in each hand, glad that Lt. Tsougarakis had apparently insisted that Chef Diaz prepare several insulated carafes, freshly brewed. They all needed the caffeine pick-me-up, which was why she was bringing one for Markham as well.

However, as she reached the battlements, she was surprised to find not Markham, but Jack Bateson standing there. He tossed her a quick look over his shoulder, before returning his focus to the sights on his laser rifle, "If you're wondering where your boy is, I moved him down to the East Wall, we're a little thin down there."

Kent bit back the reply that came unbidden. She didn't like the idea of a civilian ordering her people around, especially without her say-so. Her lack of response seemed to amuse the older man, as he now gave her a sly grin, "Sorry if that steps on your toes, though."

"It's fine," she finally replied, trying to sound as casual as she could. But she had to admit, to herself anyway, that Bateson had a pretty good grasp on this entire situation. Even if his philosophy of 'shot first, questions never' irked her.

She took a position next to him, looking at him in the waning sunlight. It abruptly realized at that moment that she wasn't even sure if Bateson had managed to grab some sack time, unlike Kent herself, That was why she found herself offering the second cup to him, "Here. I'm guessing you could use this."

He looked at her cautiously, before pulling his rifle back and out of the way. He sniffed the aroma, eyes widening in awe, "Is that real coffee?"

Kent couldn't help but grin, "100% Colombian beans. A secret stash our Chef breaks out from time to time." She shrugged, "This was one of those times."

Bateson gratefully took the hot drink, taking a deep slurp. Soon registering just how hot it was, but managing not to spit it out. He swallowed it down with a look of ecstasy. "Oh, God! I don't care how much I just burnt my oesophagus, that was beautiful..!"

After a brief laugh, Kent shook her head, "I guess it's been a while since you had the real thing?"

He nodded slowly, talking about smaller sips, blowing on it now, "Yeah, I don't have much space for non-essentials on my little cargo runner. What my drink dispenser passes off as coffee..?" He shuddered, "Only used in emergencies."

Kent more than understood. The few assignments she'd had at out of the way outposts had meant she had to 'rough it' for those years, in a manner of speaking. One of the things she'd been most concerned about, coming to the Hannock, was that the 40-odd-year-old Ganges-class starship would have an outdated mess hall and galley. Thankfully, that had not been the case.

They sipped the coffee in silence, disturbed only when the cries of one of the infected would abruptly cut through the air, for several minutes. It was broken when Bateson looked at her askance, "You worried about your guys?"

Kent nodded absently. Once the Hannock's corpsman had checked out both Mac and Di Marco, they had been swiftly beamed up to the ship to be relocated down to the Security Training Facility. There, they'd be under the care of Dr Song and treated in more secure and comfortable surroundings.

Last she'd heard from Song was that both were recovering well, with Di Marco finally regaining consciousness. She had been relieved beyond words knowing that he-- that they were doing okay and that they were now a continent away from everything going on in this part of Rigel IV.

Her expression must not have remained as deadpan as she had hoped, because when Bateson spoke, it was with an uncharacteristic softness she wouldn't have expected from the gruff exterior. "Hey," he offered softly, "I get it. I do. A small ship, crew in tight quarters, you become close."

"Like a family."

The comparison struck Kent like a physical blow. Had the crew become like a family to her? Captain April, well, in a way, he was like a father to everyone aboard. Of course, then there's Mac... Bloody Hell! How have I only just realized this?!

Bateson continued, forcing Kent to pay attention, "I'm missing mine something bad." He wiggled a finger, drawing Kent's attention to it, where she could see the thin gold band around it. "I have a wife back on Deneva. A baby girl too, not even six months old yet. I'd much rather be home with them, but when you're in this kind of business, you can't wait for the deals to find you first."

When it came to family, Kent really didn't have much experience to fall back on. She'd been raised by her Dad, never really known her Mum. Harold Kent had never been the most emotionally available; he hadn't even seen her off to Starfleet Academy, only attending her graduation because she'd made a point of asking him to come.

He'd never understood her drive and desire to go into space, just one of the many reasons they'd never been close. But she still missed him, still regretted not calling him more. Not being there when he'd been laid to rest next to Mum.

Bateson abruptly cleared his throat, almost embarrassed at how forlorn he'd been acting. He put his coffee down on the battlement, exchanging it for some night-vision binocular. Squinting into them, adjusting their range, he grimaced, "So, who do you reckon shot down your pod?"

Kent had spent a fair degree of time wondering the same thing, but it was all idle speculation for now, which she admitted as such to Bateson, "That's why I'm heading back up to the Hannock. I want some answers to this whole mess."

"Good luck with that," the man replied, without a hint of the rancour or derision he'd exhibited much of the time since they'd first met.

She considered him for a moment, "Why are you still here, Jack?" She saw him react with surprise to the use of his given name, but she carried on, "You could have just got back in your ship and flown away. This isn't your fight."

He seemed to ponder her words for a moment, a mixture of emotions playing across his handsome, gruff face, "I could've, yeah. But I'm not a coward, Commander." He looked around, smiling softly again, "These are good people, decent and hard-working, living off the land. They needed help. I couldn't just walk - or fly - away from that."

He met her gaze full on, determined and proud, "I think I need to see things through here." He shrugged, offering that sly, cocky grin again, "Who knows, might get a very good partnership out of it."

As Kent rolled her eyes with deliberately over-exaggerated effect, her communicator chirped for attention. It was in her hand, flipped into receiving mode in moments, "Kent here."

[Ready to receive you any time, Commander,] came the voice of the current duty officer. [Ensign Kasomoulis and Chief Leroy have something in the sensor logs they want you to see.]

Passing on her compliments and calling for beam-up, Kent offered a final nod of farewell to Bateson, who tossed her a casual salute. "Do me a favour," he requested. "When you find the bastards responsible for whatever the Hell is going on and you need someone 'unaligned' to do any dirty work, drop me a call."

Gifting him a wicked grin of her own, Kent braced herself as she felt the grip of the transporter take hold of her, "Count on it,"

* * *

 

[Orbing Master]

As he listened in subdued silence to the report from his trusted Executive Officer, April kept reminding himself that his crew were safe and out of harm's way. That was all that mattered to him right now.

But still, there was a burning ember of anger deep in his chest as he realized the situation that Kent, Mackenzie and Di Marco had been thrust into. Not to mention the poor cadet that Commander Bard had loaned them. Hell of a way to be thrown into the deep end of being a battlefield medic.

[It could have been a hell of a lot worse, Captain,] Kent concluded, trying her best to appear composed and professional as she communicated with him from the Hannock. [Dr Song tells me that her two newest patients are recovering nicely.]

April offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile, "You've done all you can, for now, Maya, and brilliantly as well." He looked to Kendrick, who had remained silent the entire time so far. "Do you think this update will finally convince your boss to get off his ass and do something?"

For a brief moment, it looked like Kendrick was going to offer some kind of argument or umbrage to April's insult regarding Lerak. But in the end, she seemed to deflate. Good. Maybe she agrees with me. Finally, she shook her head, "I honestly don't have an answer for that, Captain." She looked at the screen, "But you've confirmed your shuttle was indeed shot down?"

Kent nodded firmly, [We retrieved a sample of the shuttle hull. It wasn't friendly fire from the laser rifles. It was a low-yield disruptor focused specifically to fry our internal systems.]

April growled with discontent, "Someone didn't want you there."

"Then that is something I can take to Lerak," Kendrick declared, her dark eyes gleaming with a serious intent to be heard. "This isn't just something the Hill People brought on themselves, but if he still won't move forward, then I'll just have to go over his head and approach the Governing Board myself."

With something of a grim fascination, April nodded in approval. I wouldn't mind seeing that play out. Especially if I get to see that smug and sanctimonious look wiped off that creep's face. "Commander, continue your investigation. Do what you can to find the ship that took down your shuttle. We'll keep up the pressure here until Lerak breaks."

[Acknowledged, Captain,] Kent replied without a moment's hesitation. That girl did him proud. [Good luck, sir. Hannock out.]

With the communication terminated, the screen returned back to the default image of a painted panoramic view of the Desert of Nan-shir. Turning, April saw the uncertain, quizzical look that Kendrick was shooting him, "Are you certain you don't want to go back to your ship?"

He shook his head, "Commander Kent is more than up to the task. She doesn't need me holding her hand." In their years of serving together, Maya Kent had earned April's trust and praise several times over.

The truth was, in many ways, he felt more than a little guilty that Kent had followed him after his 'fall from grace'. His spitfire-of-a-first-officer should have earned her own place in the centre seat of a scout or science vessel by now. Instead, she had become tarred by the events of Landris II as much as April himself had.

There was a part of him that wondered... if he was seriously considering the job offer from Cros'bro Colonial Development, maybe it would work in Kent's favour too? If he resigned from the service, stood down as the commanding officer of the Hannock, he could talk to Admiral Hannah, convince her to appoint Kent as his successor. It was the least his X.O. deserved.

His introspection - and thoughts on the ever-pressing decision on his future - was halted when he noticed the far-away, rather pensive, almost solemn look on Kendrick's attractive face. "Are you alright, Olivia?"

"I--" Kendrick seemed abruptly consumed by doubt and uncertainty. She cast a furtive look over her shoulder as if making sure they were alone. "I don't know." She shook her head, "It's this virus. What it can do? It's been nagging at me, like an itch at the back of my brain, reminding me of stories I heard when I was a post-grad student."

"What kind of stories?"

Kendrick grimaced, actually shuddering a little, "An urban legend. Real Frankenstein, Zora of Tiburon, Maltuvis of Sauria, kind of stories. Medical science going down a dark path." She looked up at him again, "From a time when the Rigellian races did not get along as they do now. There was a drug. A way to subdue or pacify an aggressive adversary. Make them easier to handle. To deal with."

Memories of long-ago history classes about Earth's dark times came in wisps to April's mind. Of the way groups like the Nazis, people like Khan Noonien Singh and Colonel Green labelled people outside of the so-called 'Master Race' as a problem. "I am not liking the sound of what I'm hearing, Olivia."

"I can't blame you, Chris," she muttered. "It was a dark chapter in Rigellian history, that happened centuries ago. That we and they've long moved past. No one even knows which of the races, the Zami, Jelna, Chelon, may have even created the drug." She hugged herself, "Or if it even existed in the first place."

April had to concede that it was a startling, unnerving story. Especially given what Sarek had told him and the Vulcan's belief that this was no random incident. Still, he had to play dumb for the moment, "But what does it have to do with now?"

Kendrick shot him an apologetic look, "Sorry, I'm getting too caught up in the back-story." She took a breath, collecting herself, "Scientifically speaking, with the right know-how on the drug's make-up, it would be a simple matter to tweak it. Instead of it pacifying the person exposed to it..."

She trailed off, and the figurative light-bulb went off in April's mind as he put the pieces of what she saying together, "It does the complete opposite. It makes them angrier." A chill ran the length of his spine as he considered the hidden meaning of her words.

Kendrick nodded shakily, hugging herself even tighter as she was hit by the sheer audacity of what she was suggesting, "Chris, what if this was all some kind of ploy? That someone poisoned the Argus River on purpose, for whatever reason?" April could see her eyes filling with tears, "Why would anyone even do that?!"

Kendrick's face, full of despair and doubt, was all the confirmation April needed that she was in no way involved in the conspiracy of corruption his officers were now helping Sarek tie together. At that moment, he made a decision, one he hoped - that he prayed - he would not end up regretting.

"Olivia, there's something I need to tell you."

* * *

Kent wanted - needed - answers. It only made the waiting more difficult to bear.

Since returning to the Hannock, briefing the captain and passing on assignments, she'd taken only the briefest of breaks to jump in the shower, washing the sweat and grime off and donning a clean uniform. Thanks to coffee and adrenaline, she was still wide-awake, despite it being close to a day and a half since she'd last properly slept. She'd managed to sneak a brief power nap while in Vanir, sure, but she was very aware that she needed to rest at some point.

Now was not that time. Instead, she sat in the command chair on the bridge, watching and waiting as the crew worked away around her. It was taking all her self-control to not hover over the shoulders of the junior officers as they went about their tasks.

Let them do their jobs, Maya. You trained these people, they know what they're doing. It was something she did have to remind herself of every so often. It would only demoralize those individuals who currently filled the stations, with the senior staff all off-ship at the moment. These people were by no means 'the best of the best', but they were her crew and she trusted them not to let her down.

"Now in geosynchronous orbit over the city of Vanir, Commander," called out Pavarti Mishra from the helm. The junior lieutenant's voice had a slight quiver of nervousness to it, but her hands remained steady on the controls.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Kent replied smoothly. Turning her chair, she spied Lieutenant Tsougarakis, now acting as her de facto X.O., standing at the tactical station, talking quietly with Ensign Denys Kasomoulis. He was young, having been posted to the Hannock straight out of the Academy ten months ago, therefore somewhat green. But he had proved himself in combat with Orion raiders shortly after boarding. Kent knew he could handle the weapons system if or when they were needed. "Report, gentlemen."

Tsougarakis met her eyes with a level gaze, "Commander, we've found an incredibly minute particle flux in the review of the sensor logs."

Why didn't we pick this up before? The Greek man seemed to have anticipated the question, as he was answering her before she even spoke, "It only showed up for several nanoseconds, at a barely detectable output. The subroutines didn't bring it to our attention, just an automated log for later review."

Kent pursed her lips, more than a little peeved. If the Hannock had been a more advanced and modern vessel, that might not have been the case. But the forty-year-old Ganges-class ship's sensor detection subroutines had certain set priorities, despite various upgrades. Maybe I should send the brainiacs at the San Francisco Yards a memo.

She looked around to face Jeanne Leroy at the science station, "What do you make of it, Chief?"

The chief petty officer wrinkled her nose as she studied the data for herself. The French Canadian non-com was one of the oldest and most experienced enlisted members of the crew. Next to Freida, Leroy was the only other member of the Hannock's science department, due to their designation as a recon scout.

"It might be some kind of trace of a malfunctioning cloaking field of some kind," she finally replied, her gaze still on her console screen, chewing her lip. "But the particle radiation, it looks oddly familiar. Give me a second to check something."

Kent sat back in the chair, watching the seemingly placid view of Rigel IV on the forward viewscreen, enshrouded by night for the moment. There was barely even a hint of civilization down on the planet, with no lights breaking the blanket of darkness. Deceptively peaceful, the Scottish woman mused, uncomfortably reminded of home a little.

Thankfully, before she could be pulled down that particular emotional black hole, Leroy spoke up again, "Just confirmed it, ma'am." Looking to the science specialist, Kent saw her grin of satisfaction, "The radiation matches files we have on the cloaks used by the Suliban Cabal."

"The Cabal?!" Kent couldn't help but voice her surprise and with good reason. She'd studied the career of Jonathan Archer in detail, from his days with the Warp 5 Program, commanding the Enterprise, his time as commander-in-chief of Starfleet, then his eventual ascension to President of the United Federation of Planets. "I thought Admiral Archer and his allies made sure they were all confiscated or destroyed after the Cabal collapsed?"

Leroy shook her head, "It looks like they missed at least one." She worked the controls of the console, "There were unconfirmed reports from Starfleet Intelligence that there may have been some other caches of equipment that they didn't secure."

Not good, Kent pondered, as Tsougarakis spoke up, "If that's true, then who knows how many unsavoury parties might have got their hands on some?"

The Hannock's acting commander shook her head, "That doesn't matter at the moment. Let's focus on the here and now of our own predicament." Looking back to Leroy, she issued her orders, "Chief, I want you to keep our scanners peeled for any blip of that particle radiation, no matter how small or faint." She allowed herself a wolfish smile, "Their cloak is half a century old, maybe they've gotten sloppy with maintenance and it'll show up again."

"Ensign," she continued, now turning to Kasomoulis, "I want you to ready weapons, but shoot to disable only. Understood?"

The young man nodded, as Tsougarakis stepped down towards Mishra, "Lieutenant, stand by for sub-orbital manoeuvres, in case they thinking they're safe in the atmosphere."

Kent suppressed a smile but was quite impressed with her second's line of thinking. The Hannock might not be able to land, but she could still get by long enough to show any hiding ships the folly of believing otherwise.

You bastards won't be hiding for much longer. I guarantee it.

* * *

 

[Orbing Master]

Sarek was perturbed. It was a most unusual position to find himself in.

Since the beginnings of his career as a diplomatic envoy, Sarek had learned the hard way that it was best to never underestimate a species. However, his dealings with humans over the last eighteen years had always left him disappointed. This was a species that had faced down the threat of the Romulans, come out of the protective wing of the Confederacy of Vulcan and learned to stand on their own.

Yet somehow, they were still so outrageously emotional. It was hardly logical. Not to mention inherently confusing. His time serving as a junior intern at the Vulcan Consulate on Earth alongside his father Skon had been an exercise in having one's emotional control pushed to their limit. It had been an intense learning experience for the then-20-year-old man.

It had also left him with a somewhat negative opinion of humanity in general. As he had learned later on in discussions with fellow peers and colleagues, a feeling shared by many other Vulcans. He was well aware that certain members of his society felt associating with more emotional species was detrimental to everything that made Vulcan a peaceful centre of civilization. While he did not agree with the more extreme beliefs espoused by certain factions, he understood some of their core reasoning.

Still, as a junior attaché of the Federation Diplomatic Corps, Sarek had long ago accepted that his work would bring him into contact with many humans. That he would have to simply have to call on his training and superior mental faculties to keep his logic centred, his emotions under control. Not to be influenced by their wildly conflicting feelings and contrary natures.

However, for whatever reason, Sarek found himself unable to reach his usual clarity of thought. The calm centre of logic he called upon to quell his emotions eluded him. It is a most unsettling state. The only logical explanation for it that Sarek could fathom was that his brief meld with Siranna had left some residual telepathic after-effects that left his control shaken.

It had been some time since he has last merged minds with another. Since his marriage to T'Rea would not occur until her own studies with the Adepts of Gol were concluded, it had been five years, seven months and twenty-six days since he had last exercised those skills. The sheer intensity of emotions that he had 'felt' from Siranna had clearly been too much for him to handle after so long a time without melding.

With the ease from years of practice, Sarek acknowledged his own shortcomings and that those emotions would fade with time and meditation. Instead, he chose to compartmentalize those feelings for the time being to focus on his tasks.
Working alongside the Hannock officers, Sarek found himself being both impressed and surprised by how easily and confidently they took to their tasks of assisting him. Moreover, the fact that those two individuals could not have been more of a contrast of the other.

Both Lieutenant Rasmussen and Lieutenant Hemmingway demonstrated appreciable skill going through the terabytes of information already amassed, not just in Sarek's own investigation, but his consulate colleagues as well. The blonde science officer was surprisingly taciturn for a human, aside from the occasional moment where she would frown or purse her lips, in what Sarek recognized as displays of displeasure. The communications officer, though, was much more excitable, sporting a large grin as he continued accessing database after database with a speed and skill that did not seem comparable with his apparent youth.

As they worked, keeping watch over them was the brooding form of Security Chief Anderson, a non-commissioned officer assigned by Captain April as a security precaution. Sarek understood it made the captain 'feel better', but the Vulcan diplomat doubted there would be anything that required the needs of a trained security officer. The consulate maintained a small contingent of its own security guards, albeit Federation civilian officers, not Starfleet, but they would be more than adequate.

Sarek's continued work on accessing the privately-secured files he'd hidden in a memory cache of the Consulate's secondary data core was brought to a sudden halt when Hemmingway suddenly seemed to burst with the need for attention. "Booyah!" he abruptly cried out, before punching the air with his fist.

The word meant nothing to Sarek. He looked to Rasmussen, who seemed just as caught out by the young man's exclamation, seeking clarification. She shrugged, nonplussed, "I think that means he's found something."

"Sorry, sorry," Hemmingway muttered, still grinning, his eyes focused on the array of screens he sat in front of. "But it's not so much what I found, as where I'm looking."

Curious, Sarek rose from his own work station to join Rasmussen at Hemmingway's side. He perused the screens, finding himself somewhat surprised by what he saw. "You have accessed the core mainframe of the central financial registry? How?"

Hemmingway beamed with obvious pride, "Just a little creative reconstructing of their security algorithms to allow us to peek behind the curtain, so to speak."

Despite himself, Sarek was most impressed. "That is..." He paused, regaining composure, before finishing the sentence, "indeed excellent work, Mr Hemmingway." He looked at the young man with a new appreciation. Acknowledging that there was a kernel of jealousy within him as well. He had spent many an hour himself working through various back-routes trying to achieve that same result, only for the security system to hinder his progress.

Rasmussen offered the younger officer what Sarek could only assume was a rare smile, "There isn't a computer system around that our young Edward can't sweet-talk his way around, safeguards and firewalls be damned."

Sarek noted that Hemmingway's face seemed to flush with colour at the praise, as he mustered a reply with noticeable embarrassment, "It was nothing compared to the system of that damaged Arkonian freighter a couple of months ago." He shrugged, "This was a breeze after having to reprogram that."

"Indeed." Sarek simply nodded. "However, I suggest we do not waste this opportunity."

The three of them returned to their work, looking for the links and connections that would tie the various pieces of evidence he and his colleague had collected together. As he worked silently and diligently, Sarek again found himself not as focused as he could be. This time, however, he fully acknowledged that it was not due to any outside interference, but a review of his own personal prejudices.

Perhaps my father was indeed correct to insist that I establish an understanding of working alongside humans, Sarek pondered as he worked.

It appears that I may have certain preconceptions that need to be re-evaluated...

* * *

Curse those damn meddlers to the Seven Hells!

As Veran Lerak watched events unfold over the surreptitious data feed he'd established, he felt the cool and calm veneer of control he'd been maintaining slip further and further away with each passing moment. This was supposed to be a simple, easy way of finally putting Rigel IV to proper use, to not allow those primitive tribal god-worshippers to stand in our way! What in Erebus did it start to all go wrong?!

Something had to be done. Of course, he'd known about the Vulcan's little 'research project' since it had begun. Lerak took more than a little pleasure in watching that prissy pointy-eared martinet jumping through the various hoops, falling into the rabbit holes of falsified evidence that had been concocted to misdirect him.

But now, Lerak knew that his time was running out. His business ventures had paid for plenty of his more expensive habits. He'd known for a while that he wouldn't be able to carry on as he had, so plans had been put together for when he had to extricate himself in a hurry.

He was also very aware that he would have to cover his tracks in order to buy time, create some distractions that would offer an effective smokescreen to allow him to move freely. A particular program he could activate within the Consulate's computer core would wipe out anything too incriminating. But that wouldn't clear up the issue of anything that oh-so-logical idiot had seen for himself.

There were certain people he could contact to get the situation handled. It would protect him from any reprisals while dealing with it cleanly and quietly. All without bringing Lerak's name into it. Leaving him free and clear, ready to start a new life somewhere. Maybe the Vega Colonies? Somewhere he could live a life of luxury and enjoy the spoils of his wealth.

Because, in the end, that was all that really mattered.

* * *

 

[Orbing Master]

Annika Bard was spoiling for a fight.

Performing a final check on her side-arm, she took her place on the Hannock's cramped transporter stage. Next to her was Kent, alongside two security non-coms and Lieutenant Larez, the hulking Saurian male who had become Bard's trusted deputy at the Training Facility.

"I'll keep it brief," the Scottish woman began. "Just over thirty minutes ago, we picked up a particle residue trace of the ship that we believe shot down our shuttlepod. We've tracked the ship to the continent of Prulas, where it appears, for whatever reason, the ship has crashed."

It sounded a little too convenient to Bard. "Are we sure this isn't a trap of some kind?"

Kent shook her head, "No, but sensors are having some trouble getting more details. Interference from the radiation the cloak uses to mask the ship." She looked to each of the team members, "This will be a 'stun first, ask question later' scenario. These arseholes already got the drop on us once already, I'm not giving them another chance. Understood?"

Bard echoed the sentiments of the rest of the team, keeping her face stoic despite the pride she was feeling at how much Maya had changed from the nervous fourth-year cadet Bard had met during her time as a junior instructor at the Training Facility. Before either of them had been posted to starships and seen just what life in the service was really like.

The five of them braced themselves as Kent gave the order, "Energize."

The dim confines of the transporter bay whited out in the dazzle of the beam, before that too was replaced, now with the cold open air and icy tundra of Rigel IV's arctic region. From the coordinates they'd transported down to, Bard knew that they were about 100 kilometres away from Polar City, one of the small civilian settlements to be established on the planet, from their current position.

She was also thankful for the insulated away jacket she wore. The wind chill was significant. But what made her gasp wasn't the cold.

It was the sight of the wreckage they'd beamed down in front of. This is no fake-out. I'm surprised the damn hull is still in one piece!

The ship had come in steep, driving a huge trench as it had skidded to an abrupt halt. Judging by the position of the wreck, whatever happened had happed quickly, taking the flight crew by complete surprise. Like the ship had suddenly just dropped out of the sky.

What was most disconcerting was the fact that pieces of the ship were missing. Not just a case of having been torn off, though. There were irregular gaps in the framework, which appeared to come and go out of reality, almost like ghosts. "What's causing that?"

"The cloak is Suliban," Kent explained as she pulled out her scanner with one hand. The other kept her phase-pistol ready while Bard motioned for the others to move around and scout ahead quietly. Like Bard, she too spoke quietly. Better to be safe than sorry. "There's a radiation leak in the generator they use to hide."

She shot Bard a devilish grin, "Don't get too close, you might end up invisible for days."

That could be fun. While she found the idea somewhat appealing in a childish way, there was a worry that the same could have happened to any of the ship's crew. These people had fired on a Starfleet shuttlepod and been hiding for who knew how long. That was enough for Bard to decide these were people she'd rather have in custody than having a friendly chat with.

"Unfortunately, the radiation's also interfering with my scanner," Kent then admitted. "I still can't get a read on any life signs, even this close."

Bard groaned in annoyance. She did not like the idea of going into the wreck blind, but they didn't seem to have a choice, "Then we'll just have to do this the hard--"

An angry growl, a low venomous hiss, silenced her. A shiver of fear ran down her spine. Oh, shit. She locked eyes with Kent, saw the same emotions mirrored in her blue eyes. Watched as she swallowed, hard. As one, they looked up, to the dorsal section of the wreck. Standing on it, glaring down at them, with blood and saliva dripping from their twisted mouth, was a figure.

"Dear God," Kent muttered in a horrified whisper. Bard couldn't fault her that. A man, she reckoned, although the severe burns to their face had obliterated much of their features and clothing. One arm was missing, just a bloody stump left, while their right leg was clearly broken as they shuffled forward. The sheer amount of pain they must be in..!

But their injuries did not seem to matter, as they unexpectedly launched themselves off the hull. Bard reacted on pure instinct, raising her weapon and firing on heavy-stun. From the four other beams of energy that struck the poor excuse of a sentient being in the chest, she wasn't the only one.

With a sickening wet slap, the man hit the ground in a broken heap, like a puppet having its string cut without a second thought. The smell of burned, charred flesh from their injuries made Bard's stomach lurch but she kept it together. I'm no plebe, I will not lose my lunch that easily.

The five of them stood there in stony silence for at least a full minute. Processing what they had just witnessed, what they had been forced to do. It was Larez who finally stepped forward and checked the fallen form for any signs of life. After a moment, the Saurian sadly shook his head.

As guilty as it made her feel, Bard couldn't help but be relieved for the fallen man, newly claimed by Death. At least his pain is over now...

* * *

"Huh. That's... odd."

The randomness of Lieutenant Hemmingway's utterance, as well as the curious way he phrased it, pulled Sarek's attention from his work with Lieutenant Rasmussen. The two of them had gone through the various folders and directories that the young man's 'hacking', as he called it, had opened up to them. While he used his newfound systems administrator access to move around unhindered, Sarek and Rasmussen looked deeper for connections and corroborating links.

He looked to Hemmingway, "Is there a problem, Lieutenant?"

The question appeared to flummox the young officer, as he seemed to become somewhat flustered, his fingers moving swiftly over his portable data unit's interface controls. "I'm not sure," he eventually answered. "I was running a standard diagnostic of the Consulate mainframe, but there are gaps showing in certain data packets when you compare the primary and secondary systems."

Sarek understood now why the lieutenant had reacted as he had. That would indicate that parts of the data packets have been deleted. However, it would appear whoever was doing so had neglected to also delete the automatic back-ups.

Rasmussen frowned at her own screen, "Edward, what level diagnostic are you running?"

"Just a level-2. Why?"

"The system is being a little sluggish, that's..." The Danish woman's eyes narrowed with suspicion as she trailed off. "Oh, like Hell are you getting away with that!"

Her fingers danced over her own interface, as Sarek acknowledged the confusion he was beginning to feel. "Lieutenant, what are you--"

A concussive blast of heat slammed into Sarek with such force that his breath was forcibly expelled from his lungs, as his body was lifted off the ground and tossed across the room. Only the training he had undertaken in Suus Mahna allowed him the reactions to be able to turn his body while in flight, in what he already recognized would be a mostly fruitless attempt to soften his landing.

As he hit the floor, his ears ringing from both the explosion and the emergency alert klaxon, Sarek could not help the undignified shout of pain and surprise he made. While he managed to roll with the impact, the pain it caused was not inconsiderable. Finally, having been somewhat dazed by the sensory overload, the Vulcan managed to catch his breath and blink dust from his eyes before carefully lifting his head and take it all in.

The southern-most wall of the briefing room had been obliterated, leaving a large, ragged hole that showed a glimpse of the city beyond. The resulting damage to the structure of the building had also caused part of the ceiling to collapse. The workstation area had become partially buried under all the rubble while dividing the room in two.

An abrupt scream of pain forced Sarek to divert his attention. He was unable to discern the source, but he soon recognized the voice of Lieutenant Rasmussen as she cried out, "Help me!"

"Calm yourself, Lieutenant, I will--" His attempt to stand came to a sudden halt as a wave of dizziness overtook him, as he became aware of sharp pain across his left temple. A finger gingerly pressed to it came away with pale green blood.

His legs failing him, Sarek sunk back to the floor, nausea unsettling his stomach.

"Mr Sarek?" This voice he recognized as belonging to Chief Anderson. "Lieutenant Rasmussen is trapped under the rubble. How are you and Lieutenant Hemmingway?"

Looking around carefully, all too aware of the pain in his cranium, Sarek laid eyes on the prone form of the younger man. His eyes were closed, but his chest continued to rise and fall, indicating he was merely only unconscious. However, he had also seemed to suffer several deep lacerations to his face from flying debris.

With effort, Sarek crawled the short distance between them, checking Hemmingway's pulse, finding it strong. If Vulcans still worshipped supernatural deities, he would have offered thanks. However, instead, he logically realized that Hemmingway had simply been most fortunate to not sustain further injury. "He is unconscious," he reported. "Suffering some cuts and bruises, but he appears stable."

Anderson's relief was obvious in his voice, "That's something, I guess." There was a pause. "I don't think I can get to you two without bringing the rest of the ceiling down. I'm going to try to get help, free Freida first. Both of you, just sit tight for now."

Sarek refrained from pointing out that neither of them had little choice in the matter, given Hemmingway's unconscious state and his own possible concussion. However, any reply he was going to make was halted when he glimpsed a shape rising into view through the rupture to the building exterior.

It was a nondescript shuttlecraft of civilian origin. Hovering just a few feet away from the opening in the partially destroyed wall. A hatch-way opened, allowing two figures dressed in what appeared to be some kind of black and form-fitting protective suits. Not even their eyes were visible, hidden by opaque visors on their helmets.

They also each held some kind of weapon.

He forced himself to remain still and quiet as they began to talk loudly and animatedly between themselves. It wasn't a language Sarek recognized without the assistance of a Universal Translator, but whatever was being discussed, it was clear from body language alone it was an intense conversation.

It gave Sarek a small spark of hope, however illogical, that perhaps their aim was not simply to kill him. He lifted his hand slowly, offering the customary gesture of his people, "Peace and long life, gentleman. My name is Sarek, and I represent--"

He faltered, his hope fading as they fell silent. Instead, they now appeared to look towards Sarek, one of them stepping forward. Lifting and aiming his weapon directly at him.

As the burn of the weapon discharge struck him in the chest and pain flood through his veins as consciousness ebbed away into nothingness, Sarek's last thought was of T'Rea, she would have been his wife.

Be well, my beloved...


TO BE CONTINUED...