STAR TREK; Runner
- Thread starter RobertScorpio
- Start date
RobertScorpio
Pariah
STAR TREK
RUNNER
Keeping It In The Family
Featuring
Admiral Janeway
Chakotay
and
Deneb
When you spend as much time stranded on the other side of the galaxy, with a pretty close circle of officers and friends, as Janeway had, you end up forming your own unique civilization, your own culture. So it was no surprise that Janeway, and a few of her former crew, had created their own unique ways to communicate with each other in ways the Federation/Starfleet could not trace or, even if they could, could decode.
One day after her interesting conversation with Investigator Burke, Janeway took advantage of that unique ‘culture’ she had formed on the Voyager and had sent a message to Chakotay, her former first officer, and more importantly, former Maquis operative. Even though sometime had passed since their return from the Delta Quadrant, Janeway was proud of how her crew, her family, had been able to stay together for so long. She had seem some more than others, and it was always a treat to visit with Chakotay.
Luckily he was in the area of Earth, Jupiter to be more exact, helping Starfleet design a new class of scout ship. He had become a civilian contractor in the past year, having grown tired of the bureaucracy of Starfleet life. He had settled on one of the planets that had been returned to Federation control after the Dominion War, and Cardassia’s need to refocus their resources more close home.
Janeway piloted her shuttle toward the Jupiter space-station, one of the five mushroom shaped space stations that were of orbit of Jupiter. Janeway’s shuttle was maintained by someone she had come to trust, and she was quite confident it was ‘bug’ proof. She liked the term, bug proof. She had learned it from Hank Morton a couple years back, and used it quite often. She was weary of anyone listening in on her conversations with out legal recourse to do so. If there was one lasting effect of the Dominion War, which Benton Cogley reminded her often about, was the ripple of changes in the Federation charter allowing for such surveillance under the guise of Federation security.
A small shuttle-pod could be seen approaching her from the Jupiter station. Her communications station chirped to life as the pod sent her a message. He worked the consol and suddenly the goateed face of Chakotay came into on the screen.
“I like the goatee Mr. Chakotay.” Janeway said approvingly.
Her former first officer ran his fingers through his goatee and smiled. “I decided it went better with my rebellious nature. But then again,” He said with a twinkle in his eye, “you should know all about that.” He stood up and prepared for transport.
Seconds later Chakotay’s Transporter signal solidified on Janeway’s shuttle. The two old friends hugged for a moment, a twinge of what could have been was felt momentarily by both, and then they sat in the small guest area of the shuttle with its usual compliments of furniture.
“You know,” Janeway prodded him, “the older you get I see more of your father, Kolopak, in you.”
“Please don’t curse my father with that comparison.” Chakotay said with a smile.
“I meant that as a compliment to him, not you.” Janeway said with a devious smile. She poured the two old friends some coffee.
“I assume,” Chakotay said as he accepted one of the cups of coffee from Janeway, “our meeting like this, has something to do with the Doctor’s predicament.” He stated flatly. “I told him his little quest for independency might backfire on him someday.”
“Yes, you did.” Janeway nodded with agreement. “But none-the-less I find it really hard to believe he would have stepped on an ant; let alone, murder someone. Has he tried to contact you at all?”
Chakotay nodded his head. “No, he hasn’t.”
“Has Larima?” Janeway pressed, knowing the rough edges that still remained between Harry Zimmerman, Chakotay, and Harry’s wife Larima.
“No, she hasn’t either.” Chakotay replied in soft anger.
The anger came from the events surrounding Chakotay’s and Larima’s falling out. Both had been members of the Maquis, and had been lovers in the past. While they were separated, he in the Delta Quadrant, she a prisoner of war in the Gamma Quadrant during the Dominion war, life had gone on. She had been later rescued from a prisoner camp and returned to Bajor. With Chakotay stranded half a galaxy away, life intervened. She ended up befriending, and later falling in love with, another Bajoran female. It was mainly out of loneliness, but it was real.
Upon his return, Chakotay, with his rigid belief structure, was unwilling to accept her with another person, even if it was with another woman. The distance grew between them. A few months later Larima’s female companion died in an unexpected accident.
The Voyager Doctor, who had by then gone by the name Harry Zimmerman, was practicing medicine in a local Bajoran village. He and Larima had met before, and there was an undeniable attraction. Even knowing he was only a hologram didn’t dissuade her from beginning a relationship with the doctor. Perhaps because both of them were outsiders it brought them together. They later married; a union Chakotay found hard to accept.
Janeway tried to comfort Chakotay. “I know their getting married chilled things between you, Harry and Larima, but life goes on. I hope you won’t hold out hope for Harry simply because of what happened between the two of you in the past.”
“I admit it would be difficult,” Chakotay allowed himself to say. “But if they contact me I will try to inform you of what I learn. Do you know anything about the victim? Who do they think the Doctor killed?”
“I don’t know,” Janeway said with a deep sigh. “But it was someone working on a very sensitive project. The Federation Investigator, Stoney Burke, is doing his best to keep the victim’s identity classified.”
Chakotay shook his head. “So they are after the Doctor with the charge of murder, but they won’t reveal the murdered mans name? Is that legal now?”
“Not only that.” Janeway added, “They consider Hank Morton, the man from the other reality I told you about, a person of interest. Though they haven’t told me, I believe Morton witnessed Harry being there and lied about not seeing him.”
“Why would this Hank Morton lie?” Chakotay asked her.
“In his reality all of this,” she motioned to the area around her, “our reality, is the creation of someone’s mind. Harry Zimmerman, Kate Janeway, and even you, Chakotay, were fictionalized characters in that universe. If Hank lied it was probably because he didn’t believe our good Doctor could ever be a murderer.”
“That all sounds a bit hard to believe.” Chakotay said after a moment of absorbing what Janeway said. “What do you want me to do?” He asked Janeway.
She looked at him with pleading eyes. “Just let me know if you hear anything. I know you and Doc Harry don’t get along, but he will come to you for help, I am sure of it. And if he does come to you; help him.”
Chakotay nodded his head.
--
RISA
The body of the murder victim had been kept on Risa for further investigation. The planet’s medical examiner, a Bolian named Beneb, had done his very best to keep what little information he had gathered secret, up to now; as per Investigator Burke’s wishes.
The victim’s name was Omar Jivah. He had been stabbed twenty-seven times by a knife that was found next to the dead body. There were three sets of finger prints on the knife; those of Harry Zimmerman, Omar, and a third set of prints that had yet to be identified.
After granting Harry limited citizenship the Federation demanded the holographic being register his fingerprints and not to change them, ever, or risk being deactivated. This made the Beneb’s identification of Harry’s prints easy. Omar’s were easy to attain as well. The third set of prints was, thus far, unidentified.
Due to the nature of the investigation Beneb’s office, located in the central city hub of Risa, was guarded by two Federation security officers on the outside. Their job was to identify every visitor to the office. There had been several visitors through-out the day, most of whom had been reporters. The news of the murder had spread like wild fire, and the fact chief suspect, whose name had been leaked to the public, was an artificial? That very fact made the event even that more interesting to the public at large.
As Beneb prepared to depart after a long day of filling out reports, he heard a strange sound. Then he recognized the sound instantly; it was a transporter signal. At that moment a strange looking box materialized in the middle of the floor. Beneb didn’t have time to wonder what it was; he was killed instantly as the object exploded, totally destroying the office building where his office was.
CONTINUED
next time; Larima, Doctor Harry Zimmerman's Bajoran wife, decides to use her skills and prove her husband is not a murderer. And if you think Ro Laren was off center? Just wait until you meet Larima..heck, wait until Hank Morton meets Larima...also. Who is covering up the crime? What was Omar Jivah working on? Is Stoney Burke really an android? And what about Mr. Devon and Section 31?
All next time.. on
STAR TREK RUNNER!!!
RUNNER
Keeping It In The Family
Featuring
Admiral Janeway
Chakotay
and
Deneb
When you spend as much time stranded on the other side of the galaxy, with a pretty close circle of officers and friends, as Janeway had, you end up forming your own unique civilization, your own culture. So it was no surprise that Janeway, and a few of her former crew, had created their own unique ways to communicate with each other in ways the Federation/Starfleet could not trace or, even if they could, could decode.
One day after her interesting conversation with Investigator Burke, Janeway took advantage of that unique ‘culture’ she had formed on the Voyager and had sent a message to Chakotay, her former first officer, and more importantly, former Maquis operative. Even though sometime had passed since their return from the Delta Quadrant, Janeway was proud of how her crew, her family, had been able to stay together for so long. She had seem some more than others, and it was always a treat to visit with Chakotay.
Luckily he was in the area of Earth, Jupiter to be more exact, helping Starfleet design a new class of scout ship. He had become a civilian contractor in the past year, having grown tired of the bureaucracy of Starfleet life. He had settled on one of the planets that had been returned to Federation control after the Dominion War, and Cardassia’s need to refocus their resources more close home.
Janeway piloted her shuttle toward the Jupiter space-station, one of the five mushroom shaped space stations that were of orbit of Jupiter. Janeway’s shuttle was maintained by someone she had come to trust, and she was quite confident it was ‘bug’ proof. She liked the term, bug proof. She had learned it from Hank Morton a couple years back, and used it quite often. She was weary of anyone listening in on her conversations with out legal recourse to do so. If there was one lasting effect of the Dominion War, which Benton Cogley reminded her often about, was the ripple of changes in the Federation charter allowing for such surveillance under the guise of Federation security.
A small shuttle-pod could be seen approaching her from the Jupiter station. Her communications station chirped to life as the pod sent her a message. He worked the consol and suddenly the goateed face of Chakotay came into on the screen.
“I like the goatee Mr. Chakotay.” Janeway said approvingly.
Her former first officer ran his fingers through his goatee and smiled. “I decided it went better with my rebellious nature. But then again,” He said with a twinkle in his eye, “you should know all about that.” He stood up and prepared for transport.
Seconds later Chakotay’s Transporter signal solidified on Janeway’s shuttle. The two old friends hugged for a moment, a twinge of what could have been was felt momentarily by both, and then they sat in the small guest area of the shuttle with its usual compliments of furniture.
“You know,” Janeway prodded him, “the older you get I see more of your father, Kolopak, in you.”
“Please don’t curse my father with that comparison.” Chakotay said with a smile.
“I meant that as a compliment to him, not you.” Janeway said with a devious smile. She poured the two old friends some coffee.
“I assume,” Chakotay said as he accepted one of the cups of coffee from Janeway, “our meeting like this, has something to do with the Doctor’s predicament.” He stated flatly. “I told him his little quest for independency might backfire on him someday.”
“Yes, you did.” Janeway nodded with agreement. “But none-the-less I find it really hard to believe he would have stepped on an ant; let alone, murder someone. Has he tried to contact you at all?”
Chakotay nodded his head. “No, he hasn’t.”
“Has Larima?” Janeway pressed, knowing the rough edges that still remained between Harry Zimmerman, Chakotay, and Harry’s wife Larima.
“No, she hasn’t either.” Chakotay replied in soft anger.
The anger came from the events surrounding Chakotay’s and Larima’s falling out. Both had been members of the Maquis, and had been lovers in the past. While they were separated, he in the Delta Quadrant, she a prisoner of war in the Gamma Quadrant during the Dominion war, life had gone on. She had been later rescued from a prisoner camp and returned to Bajor. With Chakotay stranded half a galaxy away, life intervened. She ended up befriending, and later falling in love with, another Bajoran female. It was mainly out of loneliness, but it was real.
Upon his return, Chakotay, with his rigid belief structure, was unwilling to accept her with another person, even if it was with another woman. The distance grew between them. A few months later Larima’s female companion died in an unexpected accident.
The Voyager Doctor, who had by then gone by the name Harry Zimmerman, was practicing medicine in a local Bajoran village. He and Larima had met before, and there was an undeniable attraction. Even knowing he was only a hologram didn’t dissuade her from beginning a relationship with the doctor. Perhaps because both of them were outsiders it brought them together. They later married; a union Chakotay found hard to accept.
Janeway tried to comfort Chakotay. “I know their getting married chilled things between you, Harry and Larima, but life goes on. I hope you won’t hold out hope for Harry simply because of what happened between the two of you in the past.”
“I admit it would be difficult,” Chakotay allowed himself to say. “But if they contact me I will try to inform you of what I learn. Do you know anything about the victim? Who do they think the Doctor killed?”
“I don’t know,” Janeway said with a deep sigh. “But it was someone working on a very sensitive project. The Federation Investigator, Stoney Burke, is doing his best to keep the victim’s identity classified.”
Chakotay shook his head. “So they are after the Doctor with the charge of murder, but they won’t reveal the murdered mans name? Is that legal now?”
“Not only that.” Janeway added, “They consider Hank Morton, the man from the other reality I told you about, a person of interest. Though they haven’t told me, I believe Morton witnessed Harry being there and lied about not seeing him.”
“Why would this Hank Morton lie?” Chakotay asked her.
“In his reality all of this,” she motioned to the area around her, “our reality, is the creation of someone’s mind. Harry Zimmerman, Kate Janeway, and even you, Chakotay, were fictionalized characters in that universe. If Hank lied it was probably because he didn’t believe our good Doctor could ever be a murderer.”
“That all sounds a bit hard to believe.” Chakotay said after a moment of absorbing what Janeway said. “What do you want me to do?” He asked Janeway.
She looked at him with pleading eyes. “Just let me know if you hear anything. I know you and Doc Harry don’t get along, but he will come to you for help, I am sure of it. And if he does come to you; help him.”
Chakotay nodded his head.
--
RISA
The body of the murder victim had been kept on Risa for further investigation. The planet’s medical examiner, a Bolian named Beneb, had done his very best to keep what little information he had gathered secret, up to now; as per Investigator Burke’s wishes.
The victim’s name was Omar Jivah. He had been stabbed twenty-seven times by a knife that was found next to the dead body. There were three sets of finger prints on the knife; those of Harry Zimmerman, Omar, and a third set of prints that had yet to be identified.
After granting Harry limited citizenship the Federation demanded the holographic being register his fingerprints and not to change them, ever, or risk being deactivated. This made the Beneb’s identification of Harry’s prints easy. Omar’s were easy to attain as well. The third set of prints was, thus far, unidentified.
Due to the nature of the investigation Beneb’s office, located in the central city hub of Risa, was guarded by two Federation security officers on the outside. Their job was to identify every visitor to the office. There had been several visitors through-out the day, most of whom had been reporters. The news of the murder had spread like wild fire, and the fact chief suspect, whose name had been leaked to the public, was an artificial? That very fact made the event even that more interesting to the public at large.
As Beneb prepared to depart after a long day of filling out reports, he heard a strange sound. Then he recognized the sound instantly; it was a transporter signal. At that moment a strange looking box materialized in the middle of the floor. Beneb didn’t have time to wonder what it was; he was killed instantly as the object exploded, totally destroying the office building where his office was.
CONTINUED
next time; Larima, Doctor Harry Zimmerman's Bajoran wife, decides to use her skills and prove her husband is not a murderer. And if you think Ro Laren was off center? Just wait until you meet Larima..heck, wait until Hank Morton meets Larima...also. Who is covering up the crime? What was Omar Jivah working on? Is Stoney Burke really an android? And what about Mr. Devon and Section 31?
All next time.. on
STAR TREK RUNNER!!!
RobertScorpio
Pariah
STAR TREK
RUNNER
Rhyme to Reason
Featuring
Hank Morton
S’tov
Harry Zimmerman
Larima
DEEP SPACE NINE
The sounds of laughter crisscrossed the guest quarters of Admiral S’Tov as both he and Hank Morton drank Romula-Ale and told each other of their exploits, both against enemy combatants and the bureaucracy of their militaries. Then, finally, the subject came to women.
“So are you married Hank? Last time we met you didn’t go much into that question when I asked you.” S’tov asked Hank. “Or is there no woman who can satisfy your thirst for lust.”
Before he answered, Hank took in his surroundings. They were in the Admiral’s quarters, who happened to be a Vulcan no less, but you would never have known it. A couple empty bottles of Romulan-Ale were strewn across the floor, along with half eaten food items, and more importantly; the clothing of two naked Klingon women who were both sleeping in the room as the two men swapped their stories of the past. Typical military men, Hank thought to himself. There was always time for swapping bullshit stories, even after an hour or two of romping with women.
Hank nodded as he downed another glass of ale. “I was married,” Hank said softly. “She was killed by my government while we were,” he thought of the whole Grayson/Enterprise ordeal and simply said, “trying to escape to freedom.”
S’tov nodded his head in understanding. “She must have been a great woman.”
“The best, I don’t mind saying.” Hank said to S’tov. “I doubt I will ever marry again, but,” Hank said as he looked towards the room where the two women slept, then back to S’tov, “who says I can’t have some fun. She would have demanded it, and I her, had I gone first.”
S’tov nodded in agreement. “My people,” S’tov said with a distance in his voice, “are passionate in our own ways, to be sure, but we are taught at a very young age to keep such thoughts private and not wallow in them. Sometimes I wish I were a Romulan. Like you Earthers, the Romulans know how to be passionate in private, and not be afraid to project it openly.”
Hank arched an eyebrow. “Women and cars. Nothing else in the universe I care about more!.” Hank said with a devious smile.
S’tov nodded. “We’re having a join conference with the Romulans in a couple months or so. The Romulan Ambassador always brings a few dozen assistants. There are two Romulan women who I have been, umm, negotiating with after meeting them at a conference a while back. I think I might be able get them to join us for some fun.”
Suddenly a chirping sound came from the desk.
“Well,” S’tov said, “I think we just got our reply. Let’s go see.”
The two friends struggled to stand and walked over to desk. Earlier in the evening, after talking with Hank about the entire episode on Risa, S’tov offered to find out as much as he could about the situation, and players involved. S’tov sat behind the desk as Hank stood to the side.
S’tov opened the file and read through it quickly. He spoke as he did.
“I sent some coded questions to my attaché on Vulcan,” S’tov said. “Here is what he found.” S’tov said pointing at the screen. “The man’s name you saw crouched over the body is Harry Zimmerman. He is a holographic being who fought for, and won, his right to be considered a sentient life form.”
“Yes, I know all that already.” Hank prodded S’tov.
S’tov took a swig from his shot glass and continued. “He is married to a former Maquis named Larima Selise. The have two adopted children. Harry, who used to be a Starfleet Doctor now practices medicine on Bajor. From what my assistant has found out,” S’tov continued, “there are some interesting bits of info considering Mr. Zimmerman.”
“What would they be?” Harry asked.
“There are no official records of his leaving Bajor and being taken to Risa, be it military or civilian transit. Now that’s not say he could have gone there covertly, but if he did go there undercover then why?” S’tov asked rhetorically.
“Harry Zimmerman is not a murderer.” Hank stated. “I looked into his eyes that night and I know he didn’t do it.”
“He isn’t human,” S’tov reminded Hank. “Don’t mistake emotions that he does not have with your need to associate rhyme to reason.”
“Wow, I like that. Was that a quote from Shakespeare?” Hank asked.
S’tov shook his head. “No. That’s the advice my father gave me when I told him one of my Vulcan elders was a fucking son-of-a-bitch. Needless to say that was a clue to my father that I was not growing up to be your so called normal Vulcan.”
“How do you say fucking son-of-a-bitch in Vulcan?” Hank asked with humor in his voice.
“You can’t.” S’tov said. “Here is what we have on Investigator Burke. He has been the chief of Federation investigations for ten years. He is human by birth, both his parents having been killed in a tragic home accident. He was place in a new home, with a new family, and became dedicated with solving crimes.”
“I thought there was no crime in the 24th century.” Hank said.
“We have crime,” S’tov said, “it just goes on published.”
“It isn’t aired that much either.” Hank said, in reference to his experience of Star Trek being just a TV show created by Gene Roddenberry.
S’tov scrolled down. “Benton Cogley is one of the Federation’s most premier lawyers. He is usually defending those who are rebelling against the system.”
“He is a trouble maker; ny kind of guy.” Hank said. “I’ve met him a couple times. But, as to why he was on Risa, and Burke was as well I might add, is still a good question.”
“Perhaps he was just there for the entertainment.” S’tov offered. “In fact, there is a woman there who gives the most sensual full body massages.” S’tov hand Hank her card. “Next time you’re there give her two hours of your time.”
“I will.” Hank said as he slid the card into his pocket. “Do you think Burke was there for this kind of entertainment too? And then you throw in Vash and it all seems a bit, well, convoluted. This is why I never liked Robert Ludlim books!” Hank said with a laugh.
“This is interesting.” S’tov said a moment later. “The man who was killed was stabbed several times, twenty-seven to be exact. His name was Omar Jivah. His corpse and most of the hard evidence was, according to my attaché who just sent this response a couple hours ago, destroyed by a suspicious explosion on Risa.”
“Oh wow,” Hank said, “this is just perfect. It has cover-up written all over it. Someone wanted the body destroyed, and or the evidence, and somehow I bet they will try to tie it to Doctor Zimmerman.”
“Perhaps they will indeed.” S’tov said. “The bomb seemed to have been beamed in at first, but that possibility has been eliminated since the office has a dampening field around it to prevent beaming. The bomb is now believed,” S’tov said as he continued to read the report, “to have been planted there days or weeks earlier and was hidden by an elaborate holographic projector that was part of the object.”
--
Outside S’tov’s room, and further down the hall, two Starfleet security officers waited for the order to go in and arrest Hank Morton.
--
S’tov read on and became concerned looking.
“What’s wrong?” Hank asked.
“There is warrant out for your arrest. Apparently your being there just recently has casted suspicion on to you and now you are wanted for questioning.” S’tov said. “So is your friend Vash.”
Hank shook his head. “Someone is going through a lot of work to spin this web. But who?” Hank asked.
--
BAJOR.
Larima leaned down and kissed her two sons as they slept quietly in their beds. Their father, Hank Zimmerman, was in trouble and no doubt running for his life. She knew him enough to know that he didn’t stand a chance against who was ever behind this frame-up. She would kick anyone’s ass that might stand in her way of proving her husband’s innocence. She found the secret area in the house where she had kept some of her more exotic Maquis weapons. Then she packed them up and left the house, and children, under the watchful eye of her Trill housekeeper.
--
PLANET EDLIN PRIME
Harry packed his belongings and prepared to leave his secluded motel room. He had to keep moving. He eyed the data-chip one last time before placing it with in the special cut out he had made in the sleeve of his shirt. As he walked towards the exit of the motel room he saw his reflection in the mirror. He shook his head at his reflection and shook his head. Then he stepped out of the room to begin the journey to clear his name, and headed for his next destination and task; Earth the assassination of the Federation President.
That’s all.
CONTINUED NEXT WEEK
RUNNER
Rhyme to Reason
Featuring
Hank Morton
S’tov
Harry Zimmerman
Larima
DEEP SPACE NINE
The sounds of laughter crisscrossed the guest quarters of Admiral S’Tov as both he and Hank Morton drank Romula-Ale and told each other of their exploits, both against enemy combatants and the bureaucracy of their militaries. Then, finally, the subject came to women.
“So are you married Hank? Last time we met you didn’t go much into that question when I asked you.” S’tov asked Hank. “Or is there no woman who can satisfy your thirst for lust.”
Before he answered, Hank took in his surroundings. They were in the Admiral’s quarters, who happened to be a Vulcan no less, but you would never have known it. A couple empty bottles of Romulan-Ale were strewn across the floor, along with half eaten food items, and more importantly; the clothing of two naked Klingon women who were both sleeping in the room as the two men swapped their stories of the past. Typical military men, Hank thought to himself. There was always time for swapping bullshit stories, even after an hour or two of romping with women.
Hank nodded as he downed another glass of ale. “I was married,” Hank said softly. “She was killed by my government while we were,” he thought of the whole Grayson/Enterprise ordeal and simply said, “trying to escape to freedom.”
S’tov nodded his head in understanding. “She must have been a great woman.”
“The best, I don’t mind saying.” Hank said to S’tov. “I doubt I will ever marry again, but,” Hank said as he looked towards the room where the two women slept, then back to S’tov, “who says I can’t have some fun. She would have demanded it, and I her, had I gone first.”
S’tov nodded in agreement. “My people,” S’tov said with a distance in his voice, “are passionate in our own ways, to be sure, but we are taught at a very young age to keep such thoughts private and not wallow in them. Sometimes I wish I were a Romulan. Like you Earthers, the Romulans know how to be passionate in private, and not be afraid to project it openly.”
Hank arched an eyebrow. “Women and cars. Nothing else in the universe I care about more!.” Hank said with a devious smile.
S’tov nodded. “We’re having a join conference with the Romulans in a couple months or so. The Romulan Ambassador always brings a few dozen assistants. There are two Romulan women who I have been, umm, negotiating with after meeting them at a conference a while back. I think I might be able get them to join us for some fun.”
Suddenly a chirping sound came from the desk.
“Well,” S’tov said, “I think we just got our reply. Let’s go see.”
The two friends struggled to stand and walked over to desk. Earlier in the evening, after talking with Hank about the entire episode on Risa, S’tov offered to find out as much as he could about the situation, and players involved. S’tov sat behind the desk as Hank stood to the side.
S’tov opened the file and read through it quickly. He spoke as he did.
“I sent some coded questions to my attaché on Vulcan,” S’tov said. “Here is what he found.” S’tov said pointing at the screen. “The man’s name you saw crouched over the body is Harry Zimmerman. He is a holographic being who fought for, and won, his right to be considered a sentient life form.”
“Yes, I know all that already.” Hank prodded S’tov.
S’tov took a swig from his shot glass and continued. “He is married to a former Maquis named Larima Selise. The have two adopted children. Harry, who used to be a Starfleet Doctor now practices medicine on Bajor. From what my assistant has found out,” S’tov continued, “there are some interesting bits of info considering Mr. Zimmerman.”
“What would they be?” Harry asked.
“There are no official records of his leaving Bajor and being taken to Risa, be it military or civilian transit. Now that’s not say he could have gone there covertly, but if he did go there undercover then why?” S’tov asked rhetorically.
“Harry Zimmerman is not a murderer.” Hank stated. “I looked into his eyes that night and I know he didn’t do it.”
“He isn’t human,” S’tov reminded Hank. “Don’t mistake emotions that he does not have with your need to associate rhyme to reason.”
“Wow, I like that. Was that a quote from Shakespeare?” Hank asked.
S’tov shook his head. “No. That’s the advice my father gave me when I told him one of my Vulcan elders was a fucking son-of-a-bitch. Needless to say that was a clue to my father that I was not growing up to be your so called normal Vulcan.”
“How do you say fucking son-of-a-bitch in Vulcan?” Hank asked with humor in his voice.
“You can’t.” S’tov said. “Here is what we have on Investigator Burke. He has been the chief of Federation investigations for ten years. He is human by birth, both his parents having been killed in a tragic home accident. He was place in a new home, with a new family, and became dedicated with solving crimes.”
“I thought there was no crime in the 24th century.” Hank said.
“We have crime,” S’tov said, “it just goes on published.”
“It isn’t aired that much either.” Hank said, in reference to his experience of Star Trek being just a TV show created by Gene Roddenberry.
S’tov scrolled down. “Benton Cogley is one of the Federation’s most premier lawyers. He is usually defending those who are rebelling against the system.”
“He is a trouble maker; ny kind of guy.” Hank said. “I’ve met him a couple times. But, as to why he was on Risa, and Burke was as well I might add, is still a good question.”
“Perhaps he was just there for the entertainment.” S’tov offered. “In fact, there is a woman there who gives the most sensual full body massages.” S’tov hand Hank her card. “Next time you’re there give her two hours of your time.”
“I will.” Hank said as he slid the card into his pocket. “Do you think Burke was there for this kind of entertainment too? And then you throw in Vash and it all seems a bit, well, convoluted. This is why I never liked Robert Ludlim books!” Hank said with a laugh.
“This is interesting.” S’tov said a moment later. “The man who was killed was stabbed several times, twenty-seven to be exact. His name was Omar Jivah. His corpse and most of the hard evidence was, according to my attaché who just sent this response a couple hours ago, destroyed by a suspicious explosion on Risa.”
“Oh wow,” Hank said, “this is just perfect. It has cover-up written all over it. Someone wanted the body destroyed, and or the evidence, and somehow I bet they will try to tie it to Doctor Zimmerman.”
“Perhaps they will indeed.” S’tov said. “The bomb seemed to have been beamed in at first, but that possibility has been eliminated since the office has a dampening field around it to prevent beaming. The bomb is now believed,” S’tov said as he continued to read the report, “to have been planted there days or weeks earlier and was hidden by an elaborate holographic projector that was part of the object.”
--
Outside S’tov’s room, and further down the hall, two Starfleet security officers waited for the order to go in and arrest Hank Morton.
--
S’tov read on and became concerned looking.
“What’s wrong?” Hank asked.
“There is warrant out for your arrest. Apparently your being there just recently has casted suspicion on to you and now you are wanted for questioning.” S’tov said. “So is your friend Vash.”
Hank shook his head. “Someone is going through a lot of work to spin this web. But who?” Hank asked.
--
BAJOR.
Larima leaned down and kissed her two sons as they slept quietly in their beds. Their father, Hank Zimmerman, was in trouble and no doubt running for his life. She knew him enough to know that he didn’t stand a chance against who was ever behind this frame-up. She would kick anyone’s ass that might stand in her way of proving her husband’s innocence. She found the secret area in the house where she had kept some of her more exotic Maquis weapons. Then she packed them up and left the house, and children, under the watchful eye of her Trill housekeeper.
--
PLANET EDLIN PRIME
Harry packed his belongings and prepared to leave his secluded motel room. He had to keep moving. He eyed the data-chip one last time before placing it with in the special cut out he had made in the sleeve of his shirt. As he walked towards the exit of the motel room he saw his reflection in the mirror. He shook his head at his reflection and shook his head. Then he stepped out of the room to begin the journey to clear his name, and headed for his next destination and task; Earth the assassination of the Federation President.
That’s all.
CONTINUED NEXT WEEK
RobertScorpio
Pariah
STAR TREK
RUNNER
Puppets
Featuring
Stoney Burke
Benton Cogley
RISA
Stoney Burke surveyed the investigation unit that was sifting through the rubble of what had been Dr. Beneb’s medical office, which was located in the center city complex of Risa. Most of the forensic evidence had been destroyed, as well as the victim’s carcass as well. It was obvious that someone had gone through great length to start covering up tracks.
The familiar face of Benton Gogley could be seen surveying the damage as well. Stoney walked over to Cogley.
“This investigation area is not yet open to the public Mr. Cogley.” Stoney said with a rigid cold sound to his voice.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Cogley said, “One of my offices is located around the corner from here. I just wanted to see this for my self. I must also say that I saw the warrants that were issued for Mr. Morton’s and Vash’s arrests; why is that can I ask?”
Burke smiled. “Both of them are still persons of interest.” He paused for a moment then continued. “You’ve seen enough of the investigation scene Mr. Cogley, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” Burke pressed.
“Who do you think did it? Who was the killer?” Cogley pressed Burke.
Burke smiled. “I have my suspicions. Please tell your clients, Mister Morton and Vash, that these warrants are only for further questioning, nothing more.”
“You seriously don’t think they had anything to do with this bombing do you?” Cogley asked with a slight laugh.
Burke shook his head. “No, I don’t.” Burke admitted softly. Burke looked to Cogley. “If your clients weren’t involved with this incident then they may want to take steps to protect themselves.”
“Why would they need to do that?” Cogley asked.
“Because I still do not believe Mr. Morton told me everything he saw that night. And who ever did this,” he motioned to the destruction, “might be trying to sever all loose ends.”
“I see your point.” Cogley agreed. “Why doesn’t your office offer to protect him until this is settled?”
Burke cocked an eyebrow, “Because he has chosen not to accept our surveillance.”
Cogley shook his head. “You’re still tailing him. He told me as much when I last spoke to him a couple days ago.”
“Yes, I admit that I have agents in the field watching his actions.” Burke allowed, “But he is a very elusive man. We do not have him under constant surveillance; and that worries me. Perhaps you could speak to him about this matter. His life may be in jeopardy. But be it not, he should be in custody very soon thanks to the warrant.”
Cogley turned to leave but Burke continued.
“One more bit of information.” Burke said to Cogley.
“Go ahead.” Cogley said to Burke.
“We have another person of interest who we are trying to find. He is a sentient hologram named Harry Zimmerman.”
Cogley searched his memories. “Isn’t he the hologram who served on the board the Voyager and asked to be declared a sentient being upon their return from the Delta Quadrant?”
Burke nodded. “That’s the one.”
“What does this have to do with Mr. Morton?” Cogley asked.
Burke spoke quietly so only Cogley could hear him. “We know that at one point that early morning, Hank Morton left his hotel room and entered the room next to his, which is where the dead body was found.”
“How do you know this for sure?” Cogley asked.
“Well, aside from his statement? Because every door at that hotel tracks those who enter and exits a room.”
“Is that legal?” Cogley asked.
“Limited powers were granted to my department in the closing months of the Dominion War to carry out such surveillance.”
“Yes, I know,” Cogley replied, “I’ve been trying to tear down those powers ever since the war ended.”
“Anyway,” Burke said as he went on, “we tracked Morton leaving his room and entering the room next to his at a very early hour. But several moments before mister Morton came into the other room, the door to the other room, according to our records, opened and the victim entered the room. Nearly fifteen minutes later Mr. Morton leaves his room and enters the other room. He leaves nearly five minutes later, and then he returns back to his own room, which he shared with Vash, and then he called the authorities.”
“Okay, I follow you.” Cogley said. “Why is that suspicious?”
Burke shook his head. “He was in the room, with the body of the victim, for five entire minutes before going to call for help. What was he doing in those five minutes?”
Cogley tried to answer the mystery. “Maybe he tried to help the victim.”
Burke shook his head. “There was no evidence of any attempts of Morton trying to save the victim. In his statement he never spoke of trying to revive the victim.”
Cogley decided to turn the conversation around at Burke. “Okay then,” Cogley said, “you seem to have your own idea. What do you think my client was doing in those five minutes?”
A smirk came across Burke’s face. “I believe he saw Harry Zimmerman and let him go.”
“Why?” Cogley asked. “Why let him go?”
“Mr. Zimmerman’s time in the Delta Quadrant was one of the shows of entertainment that Mr. Morton was quite familiar with in his own reality. I know this because he stated so in one of his early speeches at a Federation conference.”
“That doesn’t prove anything.” Cogley said. “I still don’t think Hank Morton is the kind of man who would condone murder.”
Burke pressed on. “Only mister Morton was tracked coming out of that room, like I said, five minutes after he had arrived. I have recently come into possession of information that would suggest that Mr. Zimmerman can alter the power flux of his emitter so as not to be detected when passing through a door that is protected with such sensors.”
Cogley smiled. “So you’re saying that Morton saw Zimmerman, and let him go because he felt a connection with the Doctor due to his watching the entertainment show from the reality he came from. And that the Doctor altered his emitter so as not to be detected leaving the room. Why are you letting me know this Mr. Burke?” Cogley asked. “I would think this was sensitive information.”
‘Because I think Mr. Zimmerman is a murderer.” Burke stated flatly. “And if he is like any other living being he will secure any method to make sure this freedom is not compromised. I believe he will next try to kill Mr. Morton who has never officially put Mr. Zimmerman in that room.”
--
DS9
The two Starfleet Security officers, with permission from the station commander, Kira, entered the room of Admiral S’tov. They found the Vulcan Admiral slumped on the floor; the victim of several stabs wounds.
CONTINUED
RUNNER
Puppets
Featuring
Stoney Burke
Benton Cogley
RISA
Stoney Burke surveyed the investigation unit that was sifting through the rubble of what had been Dr. Beneb’s medical office, which was located in the center city complex of Risa. Most of the forensic evidence had been destroyed, as well as the victim’s carcass as well. It was obvious that someone had gone through great length to start covering up tracks.
The familiar face of Benton Gogley could be seen surveying the damage as well. Stoney walked over to Cogley.
“This investigation area is not yet open to the public Mr. Cogley.” Stoney said with a rigid cold sound to his voice.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Cogley said, “One of my offices is located around the corner from here. I just wanted to see this for my self. I must also say that I saw the warrants that were issued for Mr. Morton’s and Vash’s arrests; why is that can I ask?”
Burke smiled. “Both of them are still persons of interest.” He paused for a moment then continued. “You’ve seen enough of the investigation scene Mr. Cogley, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” Burke pressed.
“Who do you think did it? Who was the killer?” Cogley pressed Burke.
Burke smiled. “I have my suspicions. Please tell your clients, Mister Morton and Vash, that these warrants are only for further questioning, nothing more.”
“You seriously don’t think they had anything to do with this bombing do you?” Cogley asked with a slight laugh.
Burke shook his head. “No, I don’t.” Burke admitted softly. Burke looked to Cogley. “If your clients weren’t involved with this incident then they may want to take steps to protect themselves.”
“Why would they need to do that?” Cogley asked.
“Because I still do not believe Mr. Morton told me everything he saw that night. And who ever did this,” he motioned to the destruction, “might be trying to sever all loose ends.”
“I see your point.” Cogley agreed. “Why doesn’t your office offer to protect him until this is settled?”
Burke cocked an eyebrow, “Because he has chosen not to accept our surveillance.”
Cogley shook his head. “You’re still tailing him. He told me as much when I last spoke to him a couple days ago.”
“Yes, I admit that I have agents in the field watching his actions.” Burke allowed, “But he is a very elusive man. We do not have him under constant surveillance; and that worries me. Perhaps you could speak to him about this matter. His life may be in jeopardy. But be it not, he should be in custody very soon thanks to the warrant.”
Cogley turned to leave but Burke continued.
“One more bit of information.” Burke said to Cogley.
“Go ahead.” Cogley said to Burke.
“We have another person of interest who we are trying to find. He is a sentient hologram named Harry Zimmerman.”
Cogley searched his memories. “Isn’t he the hologram who served on the board the Voyager and asked to be declared a sentient being upon their return from the Delta Quadrant?”
Burke nodded. “That’s the one.”
“What does this have to do with Mr. Morton?” Cogley asked.
Burke spoke quietly so only Cogley could hear him. “We know that at one point that early morning, Hank Morton left his hotel room and entered the room next to his, which is where the dead body was found.”
“How do you know this for sure?” Cogley asked.
“Well, aside from his statement? Because every door at that hotel tracks those who enter and exits a room.”
“Is that legal?” Cogley asked.
“Limited powers were granted to my department in the closing months of the Dominion War to carry out such surveillance.”
“Yes, I know,” Cogley replied, “I’ve been trying to tear down those powers ever since the war ended.”
“Anyway,” Burke said as he went on, “we tracked Morton leaving his room and entering the room next to his at a very early hour. But several moments before mister Morton came into the other room, the door to the other room, according to our records, opened and the victim entered the room. Nearly fifteen minutes later Mr. Morton leaves his room and enters the other room. He leaves nearly five minutes later, and then he returns back to his own room, which he shared with Vash, and then he called the authorities.”
“Okay, I follow you.” Cogley said. “Why is that suspicious?”
Burke shook his head. “He was in the room, with the body of the victim, for five entire minutes before going to call for help. What was he doing in those five minutes?”
Cogley tried to answer the mystery. “Maybe he tried to help the victim.”
Burke shook his head. “There was no evidence of any attempts of Morton trying to save the victim. In his statement he never spoke of trying to revive the victim.”
Cogley decided to turn the conversation around at Burke. “Okay then,” Cogley said, “you seem to have your own idea. What do you think my client was doing in those five minutes?”
A smirk came across Burke’s face. “I believe he saw Harry Zimmerman and let him go.”
“Why?” Cogley asked. “Why let him go?”
“Mr. Zimmerman’s time in the Delta Quadrant was one of the shows of entertainment that Mr. Morton was quite familiar with in his own reality. I know this because he stated so in one of his early speeches at a Federation conference.”
“That doesn’t prove anything.” Cogley said. “I still don’t think Hank Morton is the kind of man who would condone murder.”
Burke pressed on. “Only mister Morton was tracked coming out of that room, like I said, five minutes after he had arrived. I have recently come into possession of information that would suggest that Mr. Zimmerman can alter the power flux of his emitter so as not to be detected when passing through a door that is protected with such sensors.”
Cogley smiled. “So you’re saying that Morton saw Zimmerman, and let him go because he felt a connection with the Doctor due to his watching the entertainment show from the reality he came from. And that the Doctor altered his emitter so as not to be detected leaving the room. Why are you letting me know this Mr. Burke?” Cogley asked. “I would think this was sensitive information.”
‘Because I think Mr. Zimmerman is a murderer.” Burke stated flatly. “And if he is like any other living being he will secure any method to make sure this freedom is not compromised. I believe he will next try to kill Mr. Morton who has never officially put Mr. Zimmerman in that room.”
--
DS9
The two Starfleet Security officers, with permission from the station commander, Kira, entered the room of Admiral S’tov. They found the Vulcan Admiral slumped on the floor; the victim of several stabs wounds.
CONTINUED
RobertScorpio
Pariah
STAR TREK
RUNNER
Broken Memory
Featuring
Hank Morton
Chakotay
Larima
and
Jeranth
SMALL TRANSPORT SHIP
DESTINATION; Cardassia Prime
Hank Morton tried to close his eyes to get some rest, and to shake off the lingering feeling of being hung-over. Even after what had happened, he still managed a soft laugh. He was getting to old for this kind of activity, he thought to himself. How did he know this? Well, for one thing, his aching back was telling him so. All he had to do was find a knife, and then slice open the front of his shirt, horizontally of course, then he’d really feel like a certain exhausted Starfleet hero. As he stretched out on the small cot he currently called a bed, he rubbed his lower back as he thought back on recent events.
FLASH BACK
The moment he knew he was on the run was when he awoke to the sound of pounding at the door to S’tov’s room on DS9. The two drinking buddies had drunk themselves into a clouded sleep. Hank awoke and surveyed the room to see that S’tov was dead from multiple stab wounds. The stab wounds, and amount of them, were very much like those he had seen on the victim that Doctor Harry Zimmerman was crouched over when this all began back on Risa.
Luckily for Hank his instincts took over. Earlier that evening a drunken S’tov had told a few war stories to Hank, using the phaser, which he always kept nearby just in case he needed, as a perfect prop to accentuate many of the action elements of the stories.
The weapon was still on the floor near S’tov’s body. Hank reached over and activated the weapon just in time as the two Security Officers came into the room to try and arrest him. Hank fired his weapon and stunned the two invaders. After gathering up a few items Hank headed towards the exit. He looked back one last time at his dead friend’s body and frowned. Hank had brought this on his friend, he was sure of it. The killer had struck while both were sleeping and could have easily killed Hank; but didn’t. Hank could only ask himself why?
He darted out into the hall and began his new role as a fugitive. He was no different than the holographic doctor now; and both were framed with the exact same type crime. Calming himself, Hank eventually made it to the always busy transit area of Deep Space Nine. A couple of well placed collisions with passengers in the crowded halls helped Hank obtain travel papers. His early career spent as a courier in the hotspots of old cold-war era Europe had prepared him for such a need.
Eventually making his way aboard a small transport on its way to Cardassia Prime, Hank wondered if Cardassia was such a wise destination after all. Then he decided that he really had no choice.
The small ship was pack with various passengers. The crew gave them all small portable cots to help pass the time. Hank had slept many a night on the floor of a ship, so a cot, to him, was as prized as a soft waterbed on Risa. He closed his eyes for some much needed rest. There would definitely be time later to make a new plan action. But even as he shut his eyes for sleep, he still had a small laugh. Who would have thought that staying behind those two years earlier could lead to so much fun?
--
DIVOSAN
A small planet several sectors from Bajor.
Chakotay was usually a light sleeper, a trait he had learned to rely on while part of the Maquis. So it was with great surprised he awoke to find a knife held to his neck, it’s cold blade causing Goosebumps to appear on his neck. A whisper spoke to him. His unknown attacker’s identity was hidden by a black black.
“You make any noise or any attempt to call for help, I will kill you, and your son. Do you understand me?” The whisper said.
Chakotay looked over to the young child, his five year old son who had come with him on his business trip, and was relieved to see the child still sleeping soundly. Chakotay nodded to the attacker.
“Good,” the voice said, “now get up and let’s take this out into the main living area.” The voice demanded.
Once they were in the main living quarters, the lights came on. Chakotay turned to face his unknown attacker, and was not surprised to see his former lover Larima; now the wife of Doctor Harry Zimmerman. Chakotay smiled.
“Good to see you Larima.” Chakotay said. He was relieved at seeing his former companion.
The tight black jump suit accented the right areas of her body. Her tightly braided hair brought out the lines of the ridge of her nose. It was a very good look, and it was clear, to both, that Chakotay liked what he saw.
“You knew I would be coming for you.” Larima told him. “If anyone had any reason to frame Harry for murder it would be you.”
Chakotay nodded in agreement. “Oh, I won’t lie to you.” Chakotay. “When Kate came to me about the mess the Doctor had gotten himself into I was more than amused. Could you blame me?”
“I expected more from you.” She told him. “It’s because of your pigheadedness I am with him; don’t you forget it.”
Chakotay’s demeanor turned sour. “When I came back from the Delta Quadrant, the first thing I wanted to do was to find you and start over.”
Larima smiled. “That’s the same thing that I wanted when I was rescued by Sisko and his crew from that prison camp in the Gamma Quadrant.”
Chakotay bristled at the mention of Captain Sisko. “If anyone was more responsible for the fall of the Maquis than that fucking fool Sisko; I’d like to know.”
“Eddington,” Larima replied, “he went down a course that most of us couldn’t even support.”
“Bullshit,” Chakotay came back with, “I have read all the logs and writings of those events. Perhaps if you all had..”
Larmia cut him off. “Look, Chakotay!” she said to him, “I am not here to discuss events far in the past. I’m here to talk about what is happening to Harry now.”
Chakotay’s anger subsided just a little. “I don’t know who is out to get him. And, for all I know, he may be guilty. And to be really honest,” Chakotay said with a look of coldness in his eyes, “I could care-a-less.”
“He is not a murderer; Not him!” Larima said in quick reply. “And believe me,” she said as she looked at her weapon, “I have ways to make people talk, thanks to the Cardassians. You know more than anyone how true that is. Now, look, I came here, this time, for your help. If I find out you are more involved with this than you say you are? Then next time I will return for your life.”
Chakotay shook his head. “Nice try Larima. But we both know you won’t let our son grow up with out his father.”
Larima had a look of defeat on her face. Chakotay was right. The child in the other room was her’s as well; a product of her’s and Chakotay’s passion charged reunion years earlier.
“He must never know what I am to him.” Larima said softly.
Chakotay reached out and took her hand in his. “Why not Larima,” Chakotay pressed her. “I know you and Harry adopted those children you both have, and I know they mean so much to you, but Jeranth is your real child. He needs a mother so badly.”
Larima looked to Chakotay. “You have a wife.” She told him. “And I have a husband. We can never go back.”
Chakotay moved in. “I don’t believe that, and I know you don’t either. You are Jeranth’s mother. It’s time for you to come home.”
They shared a passionate kiss. And as they kissed, they were unaware that Jeranth watched them kiss from the around the corner of the room. He looked at the woman who had just revealed her self to being his mother. There was anger inside the young boy, but there was also a glare of a future with her in his heart. He was about to join his parents when suddenly a hand covered his mouth and pulled him back into the darkness of the room.
CONTINUED
RUNNER
Broken Memory
Featuring
Hank Morton
Chakotay
Larima
and
Jeranth
SMALL TRANSPORT SHIP
DESTINATION; Cardassia Prime
Hank Morton tried to close his eyes to get some rest, and to shake off the lingering feeling of being hung-over. Even after what had happened, he still managed a soft laugh. He was getting to old for this kind of activity, he thought to himself. How did he know this? Well, for one thing, his aching back was telling him so. All he had to do was find a knife, and then slice open the front of his shirt, horizontally of course, then he’d really feel like a certain exhausted Starfleet hero. As he stretched out on the small cot he currently called a bed, he rubbed his lower back as he thought back on recent events.
FLASH BACK
The moment he knew he was on the run was when he awoke to the sound of pounding at the door to S’tov’s room on DS9. The two drinking buddies had drunk themselves into a clouded sleep. Hank awoke and surveyed the room to see that S’tov was dead from multiple stab wounds. The stab wounds, and amount of them, were very much like those he had seen on the victim that Doctor Harry Zimmerman was crouched over when this all began back on Risa.
Luckily for Hank his instincts took over. Earlier that evening a drunken S’tov had told a few war stories to Hank, using the phaser, which he always kept nearby just in case he needed, as a perfect prop to accentuate many of the action elements of the stories.
The weapon was still on the floor near S’tov’s body. Hank reached over and activated the weapon just in time as the two Security Officers came into the room to try and arrest him. Hank fired his weapon and stunned the two invaders. After gathering up a few items Hank headed towards the exit. He looked back one last time at his dead friend’s body and frowned. Hank had brought this on his friend, he was sure of it. The killer had struck while both were sleeping and could have easily killed Hank; but didn’t. Hank could only ask himself why?
He darted out into the hall and began his new role as a fugitive. He was no different than the holographic doctor now; and both were framed with the exact same type crime. Calming himself, Hank eventually made it to the always busy transit area of Deep Space Nine. A couple of well placed collisions with passengers in the crowded halls helped Hank obtain travel papers. His early career spent as a courier in the hotspots of old cold-war era Europe had prepared him for such a need.
Eventually making his way aboard a small transport on its way to Cardassia Prime, Hank wondered if Cardassia was such a wise destination after all. Then he decided that he really had no choice.
The small ship was pack with various passengers. The crew gave them all small portable cots to help pass the time. Hank had slept many a night on the floor of a ship, so a cot, to him, was as prized as a soft waterbed on Risa. He closed his eyes for some much needed rest. There would definitely be time later to make a new plan action. But even as he shut his eyes for sleep, he still had a small laugh. Who would have thought that staying behind those two years earlier could lead to so much fun?
--
DIVOSAN
A small planet several sectors from Bajor.
Chakotay was usually a light sleeper, a trait he had learned to rely on while part of the Maquis. So it was with great surprised he awoke to find a knife held to his neck, it’s cold blade causing Goosebumps to appear on his neck. A whisper spoke to him. His unknown attacker’s identity was hidden by a black black.
“You make any noise or any attempt to call for help, I will kill you, and your son. Do you understand me?” The whisper said.
Chakotay looked over to the young child, his five year old son who had come with him on his business trip, and was relieved to see the child still sleeping soundly. Chakotay nodded to the attacker.
“Good,” the voice said, “now get up and let’s take this out into the main living area.” The voice demanded.
Once they were in the main living quarters, the lights came on. Chakotay turned to face his unknown attacker, and was not surprised to see his former lover Larima; now the wife of Doctor Harry Zimmerman. Chakotay smiled.
“Good to see you Larima.” Chakotay said. He was relieved at seeing his former companion.
The tight black jump suit accented the right areas of her body. Her tightly braided hair brought out the lines of the ridge of her nose. It was a very good look, and it was clear, to both, that Chakotay liked what he saw.
“You knew I would be coming for you.” Larima told him. “If anyone had any reason to frame Harry for murder it would be you.”
Chakotay nodded in agreement. “Oh, I won’t lie to you.” Chakotay. “When Kate came to me about the mess the Doctor had gotten himself into I was more than amused. Could you blame me?”
“I expected more from you.” She told him. “It’s because of your pigheadedness I am with him; don’t you forget it.”
Chakotay’s demeanor turned sour. “When I came back from the Delta Quadrant, the first thing I wanted to do was to find you and start over.”
Larima smiled. “That’s the same thing that I wanted when I was rescued by Sisko and his crew from that prison camp in the Gamma Quadrant.”
Chakotay bristled at the mention of Captain Sisko. “If anyone was more responsible for the fall of the Maquis than that fucking fool Sisko; I’d like to know.”
“Eddington,” Larima replied, “he went down a course that most of us couldn’t even support.”
“Bullshit,” Chakotay came back with, “I have read all the logs and writings of those events. Perhaps if you all had..”
Larmia cut him off. “Look, Chakotay!” she said to him, “I am not here to discuss events far in the past. I’m here to talk about what is happening to Harry now.”
Chakotay’s anger subsided just a little. “I don’t know who is out to get him. And, for all I know, he may be guilty. And to be really honest,” Chakotay said with a look of coldness in his eyes, “I could care-a-less.”
“He is not a murderer; Not him!” Larima said in quick reply. “And believe me,” she said as she looked at her weapon, “I have ways to make people talk, thanks to the Cardassians. You know more than anyone how true that is. Now, look, I came here, this time, for your help. If I find out you are more involved with this than you say you are? Then next time I will return for your life.”
Chakotay shook his head. “Nice try Larima. But we both know you won’t let our son grow up with out his father.”
Larima had a look of defeat on her face. Chakotay was right. The child in the other room was her’s as well; a product of her’s and Chakotay’s passion charged reunion years earlier.
“He must never know what I am to him.” Larima said softly.
Chakotay reached out and took her hand in his. “Why not Larima,” Chakotay pressed her. “I know you and Harry adopted those children you both have, and I know they mean so much to you, but Jeranth is your real child. He needs a mother so badly.”
Larima looked to Chakotay. “You have a wife.” She told him. “And I have a husband. We can never go back.”
Chakotay moved in. “I don’t believe that, and I know you don’t either. You are Jeranth’s mother. It’s time for you to come home.”
They shared a passionate kiss. And as they kissed, they were unaware that Jeranth watched them kiss from the around the corner of the room. He looked at the woman who had just revealed her self to being his mother. There was anger inside the young boy, but there was also a glare of a future with her in his heart. He was about to join his parents when suddenly a hand covered his mouth and pulled him back into the darkness of the room.
CONTINUED
RobertScorpio
Pariah
Men will do the strangest things when their lust for a woman takes over. Captain Kirk has proven this..over and over.
I am wondering how this person who nabbed Jeranth could be right on the tail of Larima so fast. Of course...I know...I just can't say.
Rob
Scorpio
I'm with Mistral on this one. If Chuckles has one fault, he's too calculating. Bides his time rather than acting out of passion. He watches before deciding an action or moving forward with it and would be unlikely to allow passion to overtake reason. He also doesn't forgive or forget disloyalty easily: Once betrayed, he'd be unlikely to take another risk so readily.
Chuckling
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RobertScorpio
Pariah
I'm with Mistral on this one. If Chuckles has one fault, he's too calculating. Bides his time rather than acting out of passion. He watches before deciding an action or moving forward with it and would be unlikely to allow passion to overtake reason. He also doesn't forgive or forget disloyalty easily: Once betrayed, he'd be unlikely to take another risk so readily.
Chuckling
I don't think he has acted stupidly at all...in this story. If you mean still being in love with a woman he once loved very much? It happens to the best of us; I know. Or do you mean the scene with the kid seeing this scene between Chakotay and Larima, his mother? Perhaps Chakotay wanted to be caught by his son with the women who brought him into the world...I could easily see that..
Which act of stupidity are we talking about if I havent touched on it...as for the child being 'caught'? We will see in time what is going on there and I think you will agree, then,that chakotay could not have done anything to stop it...
Rob
Scorpio
RobertScorpio
Pariah
STAR TREK
RUNNER
Reminders
Featuring
Stoney Burke
Chakotay
Larima
Hank Morton
Harry Zimmerman
The sudden sound of a thump caught the attention of Chakotay as he and Larima shared their silent kiss. Larima heard it as well and drew her weapon and, along with Chakotay, headed towards the origion of the sound; the bedroom. Chakotay’s silent anger began to rise when he saw that the bed was empty; Jeranth was gone.
“Lights, dammit!” Chakotay demanded of the computer system that regulated the lights of the room.
The lights of flicked on and revealed the empty room. And with the rage of father who had just lost his child, Chakotay stuck out at the person he held most responsible. In one move he grabbed Larima by the neck and flung her up against the wall.
“What did you do with him!?” Chakotay demanded; his teeth tight together as he did.
The fear of a mother who had just lost her child was just as powerful as a father’s pain. She shook her head, still searching the room for any sign. “I didn’t do this! Let me go!” She yelled back.
With no time to waste the two darted towards the lone window. Chakotay peered out the window, along with Larima, and could see two cloaked figures repelling down the side of the building, with a third, no doubt Jeranth, struggling to be let go as they did. Larima aimed her weapon at them, but Chakotay stopped her. He pulled her back inside the room, and flung her against the wall again, taking her weapon as he did.
“What are you doing?” Chakotay said as he snatched the weapon from her. “You could have shot Jeranth.”
“No,” She said to him, having regained her calmness, “I wouldn’t have.” She said as they both returned to the window and watched the two figures near the bottom of the twenty story building. “And now they have our son!”
Upon reaching the ground below the two abductors, with Jeranth in tow, disappeared into the maze of buildings below.
“They must have followed me from Bajor.” Larima said coldly. “And I led them straight to him.”
Chakotay was quickly changing clothing and soon was wearing a black jumpsuit just like Larima’s. “Let’s go.” He said to her. “As you know,” he said as they ran out of the room, “Transporters signals can not penetrate the atmosphere of this planet. And all space traffic must be certified before coming down to the planet. With any luck we can track our friends if they try to leave the planet.”
They entered a Turbo-lift car. Chakotay ordered the car to take them to the main transit hub.
“Even if we beat them to the hub,” Larima said, “how can we find him? There were at least a hundred transport or other ships docked there.”
Chakotay shook his head. “I don’t know, we’ll think of something.” he told her. “They could have killed Jeranth, but they didn’t. They wanted him for some reason.” He looked over to her. “Does Harry know he’s our son?”
Larima shook her head. “No,” she told him. “It would devastate him knowing that I willingly let my own son go. He’d take the boys and leave me instantly.”
Chakotay shook his head, trying to put it all together. “Who else knows he’s our son?”
“Kate does.” Larima said softly.
--
JUPITER CONNECTION STATION
As was policy, created during the Dominion war, all Earth bound transports, and all other civilian transport vessels, had to endure a security check at the Jupiter Station. From there all visitors boarded one of the many connecting ‘flights’ to Earth proper. Many had found such limits a bit over the top. But the practice was never eliminated after the Dominion War, and had become common policy.
Being a hologram allowed Harry to alter his appearance with very little time. Access to computer nets, something he had promised not to do if given the rights of a normal citizen, also allowed him to alter records, change others. He knew that if he somehow cleared his name there would be repercussions for his actions. But he had to get to Earth. He had to warn Admiral Janeway, and hopefully, save the life of the President of the Federation. Harry could only hope the guise of a normal civilian would get him as far as Earth.
--
RISA
Stoney Burke sat in his office and read the latest report; Larima had gone missing from Bajor. Stoney concluded that Larima was out to clear her husband’s name. The web that was being strung by who ever masterminding the situation was had become very involved indeed, Stoney concluded. And the more Stoney thought about it, the more he was trying to stand back from it all.
Being an android gave Stoney unique abilities. One such ability was the ability to adapt. One such adaptation was the use of a white-board.
In his quest to be the best investigator ever, Stoney researched many methods and he liked this one. Though he charted the events in his mind, it gave the allusion to the humans around him that he needed the board. And he had to admit that somehow, someway, the use of a tangible item, such as a white-board, had its advantages.
The square white-board was dominated by a large pyramid that Stoney used to track the most important elements of the situation. At the top of the pyramid was the victim’s name; Omar Jivah. He was a human who had been working for Stoney Burke on trying to uncover interesting activities with in Starfleet.
The second name on the list was Harry Zimmerman; famed doctor from USS VOYAGER. Although sensors could not place Zimmerman in the room, the doctor’s unique ability would render them useless in any event. According to Omar’s last transmission he was to have met Zimmerman.
Stoney eyed the third name and then circled it several times with a red marker; Hank Morton.
CARDASSIA
The small transport made its way though the atmosphere of Cardassia Prime. Many of the passengers were Cardassians. But there were also a standard mix of other species; Human, Klingon, Binars, and others.
As the craft made its way toward the surface below, Hank could only shake his head at the still scarred planet below. Though the Dominion War had been over for several years or so, the scars of the final acts of the war were still apparent. The Dominion forces, Jem’Hedar/Breen, had devastated the planet in the closing hours of the war. Hundreds of millions of Cardassians had been killed in a matter of hours. No act of barbarism had ever approached the number of dead the Cardassians suffered at the end of the war.
It reminded Hank of post WW2 Europe. His father had taken many pictures of the devastation of that war. And while visiting Germany in his youth, years after WW2, there were still entire streets that had yet to even be cleaned from debris from that war even years later.
This destruction was far worse. Hank could see entire cities below that had become nothing but twisted piles of rubble. Some of the passengers said that the stench of the dead could still be smelled all these years later. The Federation had been helping with the rebuilding of Cardassia. But due to Cardassia’s siding with the Dominion during the war, help from other worlds was few and far between.
Hank stepped off of the transport soon after it had landed. He wasn’t sure what his next move was, but for now, he had to just lay low until the time was right. Before leaving S’tov’s room he had taken a few things of value and had bartered them on the black market for much needed credits. With help from locals he soon found himself renting a very small living space in one of the downtrodden damaged buildings that still dotted the main cities.
Later he scoured the alleys below and eventually bought some hard bread and water from an elderly Cardassian woman who sold them as a source for her own limited income. The Cardassian people were still suffering from the war, Hank concluded. But their spirit was still there. They would rebuild again; someday.
When dark finally came, Hank stretched out on the small single bed in the corner of the room. The scurrying of claws on the ground, soon after he had turned the light down, confirmed that he was not alone. He had no wish to see the Cardassian version of a rat. Hank closed his eyes and could feel him self falling asleep when suddenly the light clicked on next to his bed. The light had been adjusted so that it shined directly into Hank’s eyes.
“Who is that?” Hank demanded. “Who are you?”
Suddenly the face of a man stepped out from behind bright light and stood over Hank Morton. Hank recognized the man full well.
“Narrenson.” Hank said softly.
CONTINUED
RUNNER
Reminders
Featuring
Stoney Burke
Chakotay
Larima
Hank Morton
Harry Zimmerman
The sudden sound of a thump caught the attention of Chakotay as he and Larima shared their silent kiss. Larima heard it as well and drew her weapon and, along with Chakotay, headed towards the origion of the sound; the bedroom. Chakotay’s silent anger began to rise when he saw that the bed was empty; Jeranth was gone.
“Lights, dammit!” Chakotay demanded of the computer system that regulated the lights of the room.
The lights of flicked on and revealed the empty room. And with the rage of father who had just lost his child, Chakotay stuck out at the person he held most responsible. In one move he grabbed Larima by the neck and flung her up against the wall.
“What did you do with him!?” Chakotay demanded; his teeth tight together as he did.
The fear of a mother who had just lost her child was just as powerful as a father’s pain. She shook her head, still searching the room for any sign. “I didn’t do this! Let me go!” She yelled back.
With no time to waste the two darted towards the lone window. Chakotay peered out the window, along with Larima, and could see two cloaked figures repelling down the side of the building, with a third, no doubt Jeranth, struggling to be let go as they did. Larima aimed her weapon at them, but Chakotay stopped her. He pulled her back inside the room, and flung her against the wall again, taking her weapon as he did.
“What are you doing?” Chakotay said as he snatched the weapon from her. “You could have shot Jeranth.”
“No,” She said to him, having regained her calmness, “I wouldn’t have.” She said as they both returned to the window and watched the two figures near the bottom of the twenty story building. “And now they have our son!”
Upon reaching the ground below the two abductors, with Jeranth in tow, disappeared into the maze of buildings below.
“They must have followed me from Bajor.” Larima said coldly. “And I led them straight to him.”
Chakotay was quickly changing clothing and soon was wearing a black jumpsuit just like Larima’s. “Let’s go.” He said to her. “As you know,” he said as they ran out of the room, “Transporters signals can not penetrate the atmosphere of this planet. And all space traffic must be certified before coming down to the planet. With any luck we can track our friends if they try to leave the planet.”
They entered a Turbo-lift car. Chakotay ordered the car to take them to the main transit hub.
“Even if we beat them to the hub,” Larima said, “how can we find him? There were at least a hundred transport or other ships docked there.”
Chakotay shook his head. “I don’t know, we’ll think of something.” he told her. “They could have killed Jeranth, but they didn’t. They wanted him for some reason.” He looked over to her. “Does Harry know he’s our son?”
Larima shook her head. “No,” she told him. “It would devastate him knowing that I willingly let my own son go. He’d take the boys and leave me instantly.”
Chakotay shook his head, trying to put it all together. “Who else knows he’s our son?”
“Kate does.” Larima said softly.
--
JUPITER CONNECTION STATION
As was policy, created during the Dominion war, all Earth bound transports, and all other civilian transport vessels, had to endure a security check at the Jupiter Station. From there all visitors boarded one of the many connecting ‘flights’ to Earth proper. Many had found such limits a bit over the top. But the practice was never eliminated after the Dominion War, and had become common policy.
Being a hologram allowed Harry to alter his appearance with very little time. Access to computer nets, something he had promised not to do if given the rights of a normal citizen, also allowed him to alter records, change others. He knew that if he somehow cleared his name there would be repercussions for his actions. But he had to get to Earth. He had to warn Admiral Janeway, and hopefully, save the life of the President of the Federation. Harry could only hope the guise of a normal civilian would get him as far as Earth.
--
RISA
Stoney Burke sat in his office and read the latest report; Larima had gone missing from Bajor. Stoney concluded that Larima was out to clear her husband’s name. The web that was being strung by who ever masterminding the situation was had become very involved indeed, Stoney concluded. And the more Stoney thought about it, the more he was trying to stand back from it all.
Being an android gave Stoney unique abilities. One such ability was the ability to adapt. One such adaptation was the use of a white-board.
In his quest to be the best investigator ever, Stoney researched many methods and he liked this one. Though he charted the events in his mind, it gave the allusion to the humans around him that he needed the board. And he had to admit that somehow, someway, the use of a tangible item, such as a white-board, had its advantages.
The square white-board was dominated by a large pyramid that Stoney used to track the most important elements of the situation. At the top of the pyramid was the victim’s name; Omar Jivah. He was a human who had been working for Stoney Burke on trying to uncover interesting activities with in Starfleet.
The second name on the list was Harry Zimmerman; famed doctor from USS VOYAGER. Although sensors could not place Zimmerman in the room, the doctor’s unique ability would render them useless in any event. According to Omar’s last transmission he was to have met Zimmerman.
Stoney eyed the third name and then circled it several times with a red marker; Hank Morton.
CARDASSIA
The small transport made its way though the atmosphere of Cardassia Prime. Many of the passengers were Cardassians. But there were also a standard mix of other species; Human, Klingon, Binars, and others.
As the craft made its way toward the surface below, Hank could only shake his head at the still scarred planet below. Though the Dominion War had been over for several years or so, the scars of the final acts of the war were still apparent. The Dominion forces, Jem’Hedar/Breen, had devastated the planet in the closing hours of the war. Hundreds of millions of Cardassians had been killed in a matter of hours. No act of barbarism had ever approached the number of dead the Cardassians suffered at the end of the war.
It reminded Hank of post WW2 Europe. His father had taken many pictures of the devastation of that war. And while visiting Germany in his youth, years after WW2, there were still entire streets that had yet to even be cleaned from debris from that war even years later.
This destruction was far worse. Hank could see entire cities below that had become nothing but twisted piles of rubble. Some of the passengers said that the stench of the dead could still be smelled all these years later. The Federation had been helping with the rebuilding of Cardassia. But due to Cardassia’s siding with the Dominion during the war, help from other worlds was few and far between.
Hank stepped off of the transport soon after it had landed. He wasn’t sure what his next move was, but for now, he had to just lay low until the time was right. Before leaving S’tov’s room he had taken a few things of value and had bartered them on the black market for much needed credits. With help from locals he soon found himself renting a very small living space in one of the downtrodden damaged buildings that still dotted the main cities.
Later he scoured the alleys below and eventually bought some hard bread and water from an elderly Cardassian woman who sold them as a source for her own limited income. The Cardassian people were still suffering from the war, Hank concluded. But their spirit was still there. They would rebuild again; someday.
When dark finally came, Hank stretched out on the small single bed in the corner of the room. The scurrying of claws on the ground, soon after he had turned the light down, confirmed that he was not alone. He had no wish to see the Cardassian version of a rat. Hank closed his eyes and could feel him self falling asleep when suddenly the light clicked on next to his bed. The light had been adjusted so that it shined directly into Hank’s eyes.
“Who is that?” Hank demanded. “Who are you?”
Suddenly the face of a man stepped out from behind bright light and stood over Hank Morton. Hank recognized the man full well.
“Narrenson.” Hank said softly.
CONTINUED
Last edited:
RobertScorpio
Pariah
STAR TREK; Runner- Bridge of the Red Hawk
STAR TREK
Runner...
(second episode issued today...don't forget REMINDERS which is posted above)
Bridge of the Red Hawk
Featuring
Narrenson
and Saxon
Flash-back to earlier episode
AUSTIN GRAYSON/ENTERPRISE episode #001
THE SERVER ROOM
Narrenson sat in the Server room going over and over the readings that had been transmitted back from when Mike Kubicki had scanned the substance on the walls of the comet, beyond the Oort-Cloud. The readings were very remarkable. The energy that could be harnessed from Earth’s own reservoir of the substance, hidden very deep with in the planet, was incalculable. The risks that even touching the substance brought were frightening. Yet, it was a risk that humanity would have to take if it wished to move on from fossil fuels and nuclear technology.
At that moment the door to the Server room opened. Narrenson looked up from the virtual monitor. Three men, two of whom were dressed in all black with black masks covering their faces, stepped out of the elevator. There was only one reason they would be there.
The third man, unmasked, had a name. It was Saxon. He was wearing an all black suit and tie outfit, and he nodded politely at Narrenson. There was no need for words. In fact, any kind of verbal exchange at this time was strictly forbidden by The Eight. The unmasked man held out his left hand.
At that moment the two masked men turned to each other. One of them held a gold case, no larger than a writing pen. The other masked man reached round and pressed a switch on the left tip. The contraption opened to reveal a syringe. The masked man removed it and handed it to Saxon.
Saxon walked over to where Narrenson stood, and handed Narrenson the syringe. Narrenson looked down at the syringe and then back up to Saxon. Narrenson nodded politely, and then took the syringe, and injected the clear substance into his own neck.
Narrenson saw his entire life flash before his eyes, as was rumored to happen when death came. He saw images of his childhood. As death began to dominate his mind, he saw the final images. One of the images was very strange; a red tailed Hawk with piercing eyes. And then, with out warning, the Hawk’s eyes began to morph. Then, an instant later, the Hawk became the face and figure of Frank Grayson, who was smiling back at Narrenson.
Saxon slowly set the body of Narrenson down to the ground. The masked men came, picked up Narrenson’s body, and took him with them. They got back on the elevator, leaving Saxon alone in the Server room.
Saxon took three hours reviewing all the knowledge contained with in the Server. The last several years, and more specifically, the last several months were interesting indeed. Saxon completed his review and came to one conclusion. Narrenson was wrong. Saxon would take the opposite approach.
The new Master, Saxon, ordered the Server to make contact with the USS ENTERPRISE again. But this time, not to attack. This time Saxon would offer to become an ally. It was the only way, especially now that an enemy vessel, a Romulan vessel, was approaching the Sol system.
END FLASH BACK
CONTINUED...
STAR TREK
Runner...
(second episode issued today...don't forget REMINDERS which is posted above)
Bridge of the Red Hawk
Featuring
Narrenson
and Saxon
Flash-back to earlier episode
AUSTIN GRAYSON/ENTERPRISE episode #001
THE SERVER ROOM
Narrenson sat in the Server room going over and over the readings that had been transmitted back from when Mike Kubicki had scanned the substance on the walls of the comet, beyond the Oort-Cloud. The readings were very remarkable. The energy that could be harnessed from Earth’s own reservoir of the substance, hidden very deep with in the planet, was incalculable. The risks that even touching the substance brought were frightening. Yet, it was a risk that humanity would have to take if it wished to move on from fossil fuels and nuclear technology.
At that moment the door to the Server room opened. Narrenson looked up from the virtual monitor. Three men, two of whom were dressed in all black with black masks covering their faces, stepped out of the elevator. There was only one reason they would be there.
The third man, unmasked, had a name. It was Saxon. He was wearing an all black suit and tie outfit, and he nodded politely at Narrenson. There was no need for words. In fact, any kind of verbal exchange at this time was strictly forbidden by The Eight. The unmasked man held out his left hand.
At that moment the two masked men turned to each other. One of them held a gold case, no larger than a writing pen. The other masked man reached round and pressed a switch on the left tip. The contraption opened to reveal a syringe. The masked man removed it and handed it to Saxon.
Saxon walked over to where Narrenson stood, and handed Narrenson the syringe. Narrenson looked down at the syringe and then back up to Saxon. Narrenson nodded politely, and then took the syringe, and injected the clear substance into his own neck.
Narrenson saw his entire life flash before his eyes, as was rumored to happen when death came. He saw images of his childhood. As death began to dominate his mind, he saw the final images. One of the images was very strange; a red tailed Hawk with piercing eyes. And then, with out warning, the Hawk’s eyes began to morph. Then, an instant later, the Hawk became the face and figure of Frank Grayson, who was smiling back at Narrenson.
Saxon slowly set the body of Narrenson down to the ground. The masked men came, picked up Narrenson’s body, and took him with them. They got back on the elevator, leaving Saxon alone in the Server room.
Saxon took three hours reviewing all the knowledge contained with in the Server. The last several years, and more specifically, the last several months were interesting indeed. Saxon completed his review and came to one conclusion. Narrenson was wrong. Saxon would take the opposite approach.
The new Master, Saxon, ordered the Server to make contact with the USS ENTERPRISE again. But this time, not to attack. This time Saxon would offer to become an ally. It was the only way, especially now that an enemy vessel, a Romulan vessel, was approaching the Sol system.
END FLASH BACK
CONTINUED...
RobertScorpio
Pariah
STAR TREK; Runner-Shattered Web
STAR TREK
RUNNER
Shattered Web
Featuring
Hank Morton
Harry Zimmerman
Special guest star
Narrenson
PREVIOUSLY
ON CARDASSIA.
(Hank Morton is now a fugitive and hiding out on Cardassia in one of the war torn cities. He has found quick, and cheap, boarding in one of the many bombed out complexes that dot the Cardassian home world.)
When dark finally came, Hank stretched out on the small single bed in the corner of the room. The scurrying of claws on the ground, soon after he had turned the light down, confirmed that he was not alone. He had no wish to see the Cardassian version of a rat. Hank closed his eyes and could feel him self falling asleep when suddenly the light clicked on next to his bed. The light had been adjusted so that it shined directly into Hank’s eyes.
“Who is that?” Hank demanded. “Who are you?”
Suddenly the face of a man stepped out from behind bright light and stood over Hank Morton. Hank recognized the man full well.
“Narrenson.” Hank said softly.
WE CONTINUE
Narrneson nodded at the sound of his name. He also held a very crude looking hand phaser aimed directly at Hank Morton.
“You probably think I should be dead.” Harrenson told Hank Morton.
Hank shook his head in disbelief. “The last time I saw you alive was when you murdered Frank Grayson in the briefing room on the Enterprise.”
Narrenson nodded at the small recap, and twitched his head for a moment. He also dragged over the lone seat from the small dining table in the very small studio apartment.
“Eight didn’t like my actions, I guess you could say.” Narrenson said, again his head twitching slightly as he spoke. “And so I was ‘retired’ from the company long before my time and replaced by that Boy Scout Saxon.”
“And from what I saw they had taken your life in the process.” Hank said with a slight smile. “Sorry if can’t say I didn’t agree with their methods.”
Narrenson smiled. “Not at all,” Narrenson said, “but just like you I always lived my life with an exit strategy. Oh, mind you, yours was more exciting. That dog fight over Colorado was brilliantly executed, though,” Narrenson paused, then continued, “the loss of your wife probably didn’t sit well with you.”
Narrenson was right about that, Morton agreed. “Enough of the memory lane,” Morton pressed on with Narrenson, “why and how can you be here?”
“As you have no doubt surmised,” Narrenson told Morton, “I did not die after all. In my time with the Server I became aware of the strange nature of that device. So I used it to create small tech stuff that I sold to various clients, the Chinese being chief among them.” Narrenson said with a slight smile.
“And somehow you used it to come into this reality.” Morton concluded.
“Not exactly, but you’re in the same ballpark. You see, the Server had a unique connection with Frank, and his son Austin, due to Frank’s father being energized by one of the dispersed energy particles back in the 50s. I found this out towards the end, of course. I already knew that objects could be created in other universes by the Server, and brought into our real universe. But when Frank had his first dream of the Enterprise and then changed places with his dreamed-up counterpart it created a real, tangible bridge, between our own real universe into what ever other universes the Server had already created, including this Trek universe. I spent many hours creating my own counterparts into the hundreds of universes the Server had created over thousands of years of its use.”
Morton cut in. “You should ask for a refund. The constant twitching of your head makes me think the transfer wasn’t 100 %.”
Narrenson’s anger began to grow just slightly at the mention of his annoying twitch. “Yes, there must have been some glitch. However, when the acts of Liu Fong, and thus my own actions, became knowledge to most involved, I then had an avenue of escape; and so I used it. I exchanged places with this universe version of myself and he is who you saw dead back in our universe.”
“You’re a murderer then.” Morton spat at Narrenson.
“Am I really?” Narrenson asked with a slight laugh. “Think about this; I exchanged places with a life that existed in a universe that was created by the Server. How could I have exchanged places with a life form that never really existed.”
Morton shook his head. “You’re a nut.” Morton said as he sat up in his bed. “Okay, so you’re alive. What does any of this have to do with me?” Morton asked pointedly.
“Oh,” Narrenson said with a somber look on his face, “a great deal I would say.” A smile came over Norton’s face.
Morton began to put it all together. “Are you still able to effect changes in this universe?”
“Now you’re talking!” Narrenson said with a loud burst of gusto. “Things are boring over here in this universe. Every character over here was created it seems with such high morals and vanilla colored backgrounds; at least the principles. I wanted to interject a little of our real world into their world. So, I create a little murder mystery over here, then a child’s abduction over there, then I throw in a previously unknown android, and love child, and what do I have? Now I have a great story evolving before my very eyes; and even I don’t know where it is headed anymore.”
“Why?” Morton asked.
Narrenson took a knife out of his pocket. It was small, but very effective looking.
“Your friends, the Q as you call them, have stumbled onto my meddling with this universe.” Narrenson said. “There are limits to their power, but they are aware of my ability to play with this reality. They are trying to find me even as we speak so they can stop any other bomb-threads I have planted in this, well, for lack of a better word, forum. But before I took away the ability to stop the bombs from detonating I have decided to let you know all of this since I have made you, and that freakish hologram character, the prime suspects.”
Morton watched as Narrenson put the knife up to his own neck. Morton attempted to stand up but Narrenson reinforced the moment by aiming the gun square at Morton.
“Why do this? What possible reason could you have for doing this? Is your vanity that deranged?” Morton asked as a small trickle of blood appeared where Narrenson held the knife.
Narrenson pondered the question for a moment as he applied more pressure to the knife. “Well,” Narrenson said, “there is more to say but I don’t want to be, what do they call someone who ruins the story for others?”
“They call them spoiler.” Hank said softly.
“Yes,” Narrenson said, “this story is spoiler free. But trust me, and pay attention because these will be my final words.”
Morton shook his head. “You’re a psychopath. Why should I listen to the last words of a dying whack job?”
Narrenson smiled. “Because, Hank Morton, all of this will lead to the death of Austin Grayson and the murderer will be; you. Shit! I just spoiled the ending!”
And with one fluid action Narrenson jabbed the knife deep into his neck severing the artery. He died seconds later. Morton had to leave Cardasssia. He had to leave and somehow get back to the real universe he came from and save Austin Grayson. But how could Hank do this? Where were the Q?
--
EARTH
The President of the Federation, Anotj-th, was in his office. With a burning pain in his voice he gasped for air. The President, an Andorian male, knew his life was about to end and he looked up one last time at his killer. He had met his killer a couple years earlier, having granted him Federation citizenship.
“Hank,” the President gasped with his dieing breath, “Morton”.
The President of the Federation was dead. And suddenly Harry Zimmerman shimmered into view, crouching over the dead President’s body. Zimmerman could feel the presence of someone behind him. He turned and looked up to see Hank Morton.
“You!” Harry Zimmerman said.
Hank smiled. “You better run; again.”
CONTINUED
STAR TREK
RUNNER
Shattered Web
Featuring
Hank Morton
Harry Zimmerman
Special guest star
Narrenson
PREVIOUSLY
ON CARDASSIA.
(Hank Morton is now a fugitive and hiding out on Cardassia in one of the war torn cities. He has found quick, and cheap, boarding in one of the many bombed out complexes that dot the Cardassian home world.)
When dark finally came, Hank stretched out on the small single bed in the corner of the room. The scurrying of claws on the ground, soon after he had turned the light down, confirmed that he was not alone. He had no wish to see the Cardassian version of a rat. Hank closed his eyes and could feel him self falling asleep when suddenly the light clicked on next to his bed. The light had been adjusted so that it shined directly into Hank’s eyes.
“Who is that?” Hank demanded. “Who are you?”
Suddenly the face of a man stepped out from behind bright light and stood over Hank Morton. Hank recognized the man full well.
“Narrenson.” Hank said softly.
WE CONTINUE
Narrneson nodded at the sound of his name. He also held a very crude looking hand phaser aimed directly at Hank Morton.
“You probably think I should be dead.” Harrenson told Hank Morton.
Hank shook his head in disbelief. “The last time I saw you alive was when you murdered Frank Grayson in the briefing room on the Enterprise.”
Narrenson nodded at the small recap, and twitched his head for a moment. He also dragged over the lone seat from the small dining table in the very small studio apartment.
“Eight didn’t like my actions, I guess you could say.” Narrenson said, again his head twitching slightly as he spoke. “And so I was ‘retired’ from the company long before my time and replaced by that Boy Scout Saxon.”
“And from what I saw they had taken your life in the process.” Hank said with a slight smile. “Sorry if can’t say I didn’t agree with their methods.”
Narrenson smiled. “Not at all,” Narrenson said, “but just like you I always lived my life with an exit strategy. Oh, mind you, yours was more exciting. That dog fight over Colorado was brilliantly executed, though,” Narrenson paused, then continued, “the loss of your wife probably didn’t sit well with you.”
Narrenson was right about that, Morton agreed. “Enough of the memory lane,” Morton pressed on with Narrenson, “why and how can you be here?”
“As you have no doubt surmised,” Narrenson told Morton, “I did not die after all. In my time with the Server I became aware of the strange nature of that device. So I used it to create small tech stuff that I sold to various clients, the Chinese being chief among them.” Narrenson said with a slight smile.
“And somehow you used it to come into this reality.” Morton concluded.
“Not exactly, but you’re in the same ballpark. You see, the Server had a unique connection with Frank, and his son Austin, due to Frank’s father being energized by one of the dispersed energy particles back in the 50s. I found this out towards the end, of course. I already knew that objects could be created in other universes by the Server, and brought into our real universe. But when Frank had his first dream of the Enterprise and then changed places with his dreamed-up counterpart it created a real, tangible bridge, between our own real universe into what ever other universes the Server had already created, including this Trek universe. I spent many hours creating my own counterparts into the hundreds of universes the Server had created over thousands of years of its use.”
Morton cut in. “You should ask for a refund. The constant twitching of your head makes me think the transfer wasn’t 100 %.”
Narrenson’s anger began to grow just slightly at the mention of his annoying twitch. “Yes, there must have been some glitch. However, when the acts of Liu Fong, and thus my own actions, became knowledge to most involved, I then had an avenue of escape; and so I used it. I exchanged places with this universe version of myself and he is who you saw dead back in our universe.”
“You’re a murderer then.” Morton spat at Narrenson.
“Am I really?” Narrenson asked with a slight laugh. “Think about this; I exchanged places with a life that existed in a universe that was created by the Server. How could I have exchanged places with a life form that never really existed.”
Morton shook his head. “You’re a nut.” Morton said as he sat up in his bed. “Okay, so you’re alive. What does any of this have to do with me?” Morton asked pointedly.
“Oh,” Narrenson said with a somber look on his face, “a great deal I would say.” A smile came over Norton’s face.
Morton began to put it all together. “Are you still able to effect changes in this universe?”
“Now you’re talking!” Narrenson said with a loud burst of gusto. “Things are boring over here in this universe. Every character over here was created it seems with such high morals and vanilla colored backgrounds; at least the principles. I wanted to interject a little of our real world into their world. So, I create a little murder mystery over here, then a child’s abduction over there, then I throw in a previously unknown android, and love child, and what do I have? Now I have a great story evolving before my very eyes; and even I don’t know where it is headed anymore.”
“Why?” Morton asked.
Narrenson took a knife out of his pocket. It was small, but very effective looking.
“Your friends, the Q as you call them, have stumbled onto my meddling with this universe.” Narrenson said. “There are limits to their power, but they are aware of my ability to play with this reality. They are trying to find me even as we speak so they can stop any other bomb-threads I have planted in this, well, for lack of a better word, forum. But before I took away the ability to stop the bombs from detonating I have decided to let you know all of this since I have made you, and that freakish hologram character, the prime suspects.”
Morton watched as Narrenson put the knife up to his own neck. Morton attempted to stand up but Narrenson reinforced the moment by aiming the gun square at Morton.
“Why do this? What possible reason could you have for doing this? Is your vanity that deranged?” Morton asked as a small trickle of blood appeared where Narrenson held the knife.
Narrenson pondered the question for a moment as he applied more pressure to the knife. “Well,” Narrenson said, “there is more to say but I don’t want to be, what do they call someone who ruins the story for others?”
“They call them spoiler.” Hank said softly.
“Yes,” Narrenson said, “this story is spoiler free. But trust me, and pay attention because these will be my final words.”
Morton shook his head. “You’re a psychopath. Why should I listen to the last words of a dying whack job?”
Narrenson smiled. “Because, Hank Morton, all of this will lead to the death of Austin Grayson and the murderer will be; you. Shit! I just spoiled the ending!”
And with one fluid action Narrenson jabbed the knife deep into his neck severing the artery. He died seconds later. Morton had to leave Cardasssia. He had to leave and somehow get back to the real universe he came from and save Austin Grayson. But how could Hank do this? Where were the Q?
--
EARTH
The President of the Federation, Anotj-th, was in his office. With a burning pain in his voice he gasped for air. The President, an Andorian male, knew his life was about to end and he looked up one last time at his killer. He had met his killer a couple years earlier, having granted him Federation citizenship.
“Hank,” the President gasped with his dieing breath, “Morton”.
The President of the Federation was dead. And suddenly Harry Zimmerman shimmered into view, crouching over the dead President’s body. Zimmerman could feel the presence of someone behind him. He turned and looked up to see Hank Morton.
“You!” Harry Zimmerman said.
Hank smiled. “You better run; again.”
CONTINUED
RobertScorpio
Pariah
Re: STAR TREK; Runner-Shattered Web
Thanks..I just hope any 'new' readers aren't getting confused with the Austin Grayson/Narrenson angle of the story which I have been leading this too. But, on the other end, these events are really happening so Chakotay/Larima are in their situation..Harry Zimmerman is in his...and mean while we have Stoney Burke trying to piece it all together...oye...then throw in Janeway-Cogley-and yes, Vash, and you get a lot of threads...but its fun!
Rob
Scorpio
Thanks..I just hope any 'new' readers aren't getting confused with the Austin Grayson/Narrenson angle of the story which I have been leading this too. But, on the other end, these events are really happening so Chakotay/Larima are in their situation..Harry Zimmerman is in his...and mean while we have Stoney Burke trying to piece it all together...oye...then throw in Janeway-Cogley-and yes, Vash, and you get a lot of threads...but its fun!
Rob
Scorpio
RobertScorpio
Pariah
STAR TREK; RUNNER- Initiative
STAR TREK
RUNNER
“Initiative”
Featuring
Admiral Janeway
Federation Investigator Stoney Burke
Klingon General K’lath
Hank Morton
Chakotay
Larima
Jeranth
Mikkos
Jovi
Special Guest Star
Q
CARDASSIA
Hank Morton prepared to leave Cardassia and contact Stoney Burke as soon as possible. So he gathered up his scant belongings and took one last look at Narrenson’s dead body. On a whim he decided to search the dead man’s body, and sure enough he found what he thought he might have found; a small cylinder shaped object. Hank had seen devices like it before. Both Narrenson and Liu Fong had managed to smuggle them aboard the Enterprise* by compromising crew members.
One of the objects was used by Mike Kuibicki to transmit a sample of the strange Dilithium substance they found on an asteroid with-in the Oort-cloud to Narrenson. The other device had been smuggled aboard by Rayana Jackson, wife of Hank’s good friend Leonard Jackson. Upon seeing how the device nearly cost Kuibicki’s life, Rayana came forward and turned her self in along with the second of the small cylinder devices.
They seemed to have multiple uses, Hank recalled as he studied the small device in his hand. It was roughly the size of his index finger and has several small buttons arrayed on the sides. What all of these functions were, Hank didn’t know exactly. But he knew the devices could emit a charged particle beam. They could also send information, including visual and audio. It could even act as a crude sensor device. The devices were manifestations of the Server, using some unknown science in their creation. Hank decided to take the object with him and to ply his engineering abilities to try and see what other functions the strange device had. Narrenson always seemed to have one of the devices on his ready, so they had some value and, hopefully, some tangible use for Hank.
Hank was about to leave the room when suddenly there was a bright flash. Q suddenly appeared. He was wearing a dark, stealthy looking jumpsuit.
“Where have you been?” Hank asked the impish being.
Q brushed off imaginary dust and surveyed the room and Narrenson’s dead body.
“Is he dead?” Q asked staring at the body.
“He’s dead. Now how about telling me what the fuck is going on?!” Hank demanded.
--
EARTH
The small scout class vessel zoomed through Earth’s atmosphere and soon landed near the Federation main building in Paris France. Stoney Burke exited the ship and was joined by Admiral Janeway from Starfleet and General K’lath, the joint Federation/Klingon Empire attaché representative along with several of his guards.
The day was a scheduled rain day, so several portable energy umbrellas were used to shield them from the wind and rain. Burke directed his attention to Janeway as they walked briskly towards the main building.
“Why didn’t you beam down from the hub?” Janeway asked.
“They’re having some glitches with their routers.” Burke said. “Besides, sometimes I like to take in the view on the way down on a rainy day. A left over memory from my childhood you could say.” Burke said with a smile.
Janeway nodded. “At least that’s one thing we agree on!” Janeway said.
“You mind telling me how the good doctor of yours got this far into Earth’s system undetected?” Burke asked.
“He’s a hologram Mr. Burke. His emitter gives him the ability to move about.” Janeway.
Burke shook his head. "Had we known he could evade security measures I am sure the President would have reconsidered your request."
“Well,” K’lath said with a loud gruff voice, “I hope this persuades your Federation council to reverse this idiotic ruling to allow these so called beings rights of any kind.”
“I’m sure it will.” Burke said to K’lath. “I want to thank you General for offering your assistance with our investigation of this matter.”
K’lath. “Chancellor Martok agreed with your Admiralty that there could be more to this than the random killing of the President. The Vice-President is secured off world by a joint Starfleet/Klingon task force.”
Janeway was not happy that it was Harry Zimmerman, a pioneer for such rights that had brought this all about. She had been one of his most vocal champions. And now he was not only accused of murder on Risa, he was now the prime suspect in the assassination of the Federation President, and he was still a wanted fugitive.
As K’lath and his security team headed toward the main building, Burke stopped for a moment to share a few quick words with Janeway.
“Just to be sure we are on the same footing,” Burke told her, “I don’t believe Mr. Zimmerman murdered the President or my man up on Risa.”
Janeway was taken aback by the directness of his statement. “Why?” Janeway asked. “Mr. Morton has now admitted to seeing Harry on Risa, and seeing him in the President’s office.”
“Certainly Mr. Morton’s presence at both places must be curious to you as well.” Burke said.
She nodded. “Yes, but that’s not what I’m paid to find out Mr. Burke.”
Burke nodded. “Well,” Burke said as he looked up at the rain splattering on the energized umbrella, “I am.”
She followed him into the main building.
--
DIVOSAN
A small planet several sectors from Bajor.
The small transport vessel banked up and headed out of the transit hub on Divosan. Due to high ion levels in the atmosphere, Transporters were unable to operate efficiently on the planet and, thus, were not used.
Two humanoid men sat in the cockpit of the vessel. Jeranth was tied to a small chair in the back holding area.
The abductors were the standard mercenary types. They were easily found in this area of Federation space due to the high amount of contraband that flowed between Federation and Cardassian space.
Jovi was the name of the older of the two men. He hailed from the Mars. He had been a mercenary all the way back to the Federation/Cardassian confrontation decades earlier. He had two scars on his face as constant reminders of those times. He was the brains of this two man team.
Mikkos was of Hungarian decent. Although he was born on Earth he had not been back to his home world in nearly forty years. He was the brawn of the team. The hire muscle one could say.
The two thugs met nearly five years ago and forged an alliance and had become quite wealthy dealing in the sex-slave market and other illegal activities.
“All we have to do,” Jovi told Mikkos, “is get this ship past this planet’s fucked up atmosphere. Then we use this thingy,” he showed Mikkos the small pinky sized cylinder object, “and it will send our precious cargo, the boy, to the client.”
“Pretty easy shit if you ask me.” Mikkos said with a laugh.
Suddenly one of lights on the panel began to flash.
“What is that?” Mikkos asked.
“Damn,” Jovi said, “we’re being followed.” He flicked some switches then looked over to Mikkos. “All we have to do is get past this atmosphere’s effect.” He flung the small pinky sized object to Mikkos. “You know what to do!”
Mikko’s nodded nodded in agreement with Jovi’s unstated plan. All they had to do was beat their pursuers into space, use the device to transport the kid, and then all evidence would be gone that they had even abducted the kid.
--
Chakotay piloted the runabout as it tailed the transport vessel.
“Can we catch them?” Larima asked from the co-pilot’s seat as she prepared the weapons array.
“Yes,” Chakotay said, “they don’t have the speed to out run us. They must know this.” Chakotay said, bewildered.
Larima snapped her fingers. “They must be trying to get him to some ship in orbit. Once they transport Jeranth they could beat any rap since we don’t even have any evidence that they took Jeranth.”
Chakotay scanned the read out on his screen. “The sensors show no ships in orbit anywhere near their position.” Then Chakotay smiled for a brief moment.
“Why are you grinning?” Larima asked her former lover, and father of their abducted child.
“Our son is no fool.” Chakotay said. “If they didn’t take serious measures to secure him, I think they are in for a real problem.”
“And that’s funny?” Larima countered.
Chakotay rubbed his strong jaw. “Our son has a very mighty right upper-punch.”
--
The young half Bajoran/half human boy, Jeranth, was not just your typical boy. Just for the fun of it, his father, Chakotay, had taught him many ways, over the years, how to free himself from various knots or restraining devices. It didn’t take long for the young kid to pick the lock of the old style wrist restraints with the small metal fragment he was able to snap off of the decrepit seat they had secured him too.
Mikkos came into the holding area.
“Alright kiddo,” Mikkos said, “time for you to earn us a very hefty pay check.”
The large man bent down to unfasten the boy’s restraints when suddenly Jeranth, all but five years old, punched the man in the right eye while almost in the same motion jabbing his other eye with the metal shard from the seat.
Unprepared for such an attack, Mikkos fell back on to the ground. Jeranth, who was always taught never to lose the imitative, pounced on the man and grabbed the Klingon-style disrupter from the man’s holster. Not waiting a second he fired the weapon, stunning the man out cold.
Jovi was doing his best to maintain the lead he had over the runabout that was following them through the atmosphere. The door to the cockpit opened.
“Did you apply the device like I showed you?” Jovi asked.
“No,” Jeranth said, “but I think this will do.” He put the tip of the disrupter to Jovi’s head.
The transport vessel powered down and soon both Chakotay and Larima beamed over to the motionless ship.
Chakotay could only smile as he and Larima shimmered onto the other ship. The sight of his young son holding one of the men at bay with a disrupter while standing with his foot on the back of the other man, who was not dead, just out cold on the floor, made both Chakotay and Larima proud.
Larima ran over and hugged his father as Larima drew her weapon and aimed it at Jovi. The father and son hugged each other tightly, and Larima could only smile. It was their first real family outing, she thought to her self.
The young boy was hugging his father’s neck and then he looked over to the woman.
“Are you my mother?” The boy asked.
Larima could not hold it in any longer. She nodded yes and the young boy leaped over to her and hugged her with all his young might. It was the first time she had hugged her son since the day he left her with Chakotay nearly five years ago. And it was the first time the boy had ever truly hugged his mother.
Chakotay, holding a phaser, turned his attention towards Jovi’s.
“Now,” Chakotay said to Jovi with an icy cold look in his eyes, “perhaps you can tell me why you abducted my son.”
--
CONTINUED
* these events are described in FRANK GRAYSON/USS ENTERPRISE. Follow this link for more.
STAR TREK
RUNNER
“Initiative”
Featuring
Admiral Janeway
Federation Investigator Stoney Burke
Klingon General K’lath
Hank Morton
Chakotay
Larima
Jeranth
Mikkos
Jovi
Special Guest Star
Q
CARDASSIA
Hank Morton prepared to leave Cardassia and contact Stoney Burke as soon as possible. So he gathered up his scant belongings and took one last look at Narrenson’s dead body. On a whim he decided to search the dead man’s body, and sure enough he found what he thought he might have found; a small cylinder shaped object. Hank had seen devices like it before. Both Narrenson and Liu Fong had managed to smuggle them aboard the Enterprise* by compromising crew members.
One of the objects was used by Mike Kuibicki to transmit a sample of the strange Dilithium substance they found on an asteroid with-in the Oort-cloud to Narrenson. The other device had been smuggled aboard by Rayana Jackson, wife of Hank’s good friend Leonard Jackson. Upon seeing how the device nearly cost Kuibicki’s life, Rayana came forward and turned her self in along with the second of the small cylinder devices.
They seemed to have multiple uses, Hank recalled as he studied the small device in his hand. It was roughly the size of his index finger and has several small buttons arrayed on the sides. What all of these functions were, Hank didn’t know exactly. But he knew the devices could emit a charged particle beam. They could also send information, including visual and audio. It could even act as a crude sensor device. The devices were manifestations of the Server, using some unknown science in their creation. Hank decided to take the object with him and to ply his engineering abilities to try and see what other functions the strange device had. Narrenson always seemed to have one of the devices on his ready, so they had some value and, hopefully, some tangible use for Hank.
Hank was about to leave the room when suddenly there was a bright flash. Q suddenly appeared. He was wearing a dark, stealthy looking jumpsuit.
“Where have you been?” Hank asked the impish being.
Q brushed off imaginary dust and surveyed the room and Narrenson’s dead body.
“Is he dead?” Q asked staring at the body.
“He’s dead. Now how about telling me what the fuck is going on?!” Hank demanded.
--
EARTH
The small scout class vessel zoomed through Earth’s atmosphere and soon landed near the Federation main building in Paris France. Stoney Burke exited the ship and was joined by Admiral Janeway from Starfleet and General K’lath, the joint Federation/Klingon Empire attaché representative along with several of his guards.
The day was a scheduled rain day, so several portable energy umbrellas were used to shield them from the wind and rain. Burke directed his attention to Janeway as they walked briskly towards the main building.
“Why didn’t you beam down from the hub?” Janeway asked.
“They’re having some glitches with their routers.” Burke said. “Besides, sometimes I like to take in the view on the way down on a rainy day. A left over memory from my childhood you could say.” Burke said with a smile.
Janeway nodded. “At least that’s one thing we agree on!” Janeway said.
“You mind telling me how the good doctor of yours got this far into Earth’s system undetected?” Burke asked.
“He’s a hologram Mr. Burke. His emitter gives him the ability to move about.” Janeway.
Burke shook his head. "Had we known he could evade security measures I am sure the President would have reconsidered your request."
“Well,” K’lath said with a loud gruff voice, “I hope this persuades your Federation council to reverse this idiotic ruling to allow these so called beings rights of any kind.”
“I’m sure it will.” Burke said to K’lath. “I want to thank you General for offering your assistance with our investigation of this matter.”
K’lath. “Chancellor Martok agreed with your Admiralty that there could be more to this than the random killing of the President. The Vice-President is secured off world by a joint Starfleet/Klingon task force.”
Janeway was not happy that it was Harry Zimmerman, a pioneer for such rights that had brought this all about. She had been one of his most vocal champions. And now he was not only accused of murder on Risa, he was now the prime suspect in the assassination of the Federation President, and he was still a wanted fugitive.
As K’lath and his security team headed toward the main building, Burke stopped for a moment to share a few quick words with Janeway.
“Just to be sure we are on the same footing,” Burke told her, “I don’t believe Mr. Zimmerman murdered the President or my man up on Risa.”
Janeway was taken aback by the directness of his statement. “Why?” Janeway asked. “Mr. Morton has now admitted to seeing Harry on Risa, and seeing him in the President’s office.”
“Certainly Mr. Morton’s presence at both places must be curious to you as well.” Burke said.
She nodded. “Yes, but that’s not what I’m paid to find out Mr. Burke.”
Burke nodded. “Well,” Burke said as he looked up at the rain splattering on the energized umbrella, “I am.”
She followed him into the main building.
--
DIVOSAN
A small planet several sectors from Bajor.
The small transport vessel banked up and headed out of the transit hub on Divosan. Due to high ion levels in the atmosphere, Transporters were unable to operate efficiently on the planet and, thus, were not used.
Two humanoid men sat in the cockpit of the vessel. Jeranth was tied to a small chair in the back holding area.
The abductors were the standard mercenary types. They were easily found in this area of Federation space due to the high amount of contraband that flowed between Federation and Cardassian space.
Jovi was the name of the older of the two men. He hailed from the Mars. He had been a mercenary all the way back to the Federation/Cardassian confrontation decades earlier. He had two scars on his face as constant reminders of those times. He was the brains of this two man team.
Mikkos was of Hungarian decent. Although he was born on Earth he had not been back to his home world in nearly forty years. He was the brawn of the team. The hire muscle one could say.
The two thugs met nearly five years ago and forged an alliance and had become quite wealthy dealing in the sex-slave market and other illegal activities.
“All we have to do,” Jovi told Mikkos, “is get this ship past this planet’s fucked up atmosphere. Then we use this thingy,” he showed Mikkos the small pinky sized cylinder object, “and it will send our precious cargo, the boy, to the client.”
“Pretty easy shit if you ask me.” Mikkos said with a laugh.
Suddenly one of lights on the panel began to flash.
“What is that?” Mikkos asked.
“Damn,” Jovi said, “we’re being followed.” He flicked some switches then looked over to Mikkos. “All we have to do is get past this atmosphere’s effect.” He flung the small pinky sized object to Mikkos. “You know what to do!”
Mikko’s nodded nodded in agreement with Jovi’s unstated plan. All they had to do was beat their pursuers into space, use the device to transport the kid, and then all evidence would be gone that they had even abducted the kid.
--
Chakotay piloted the runabout as it tailed the transport vessel.
“Can we catch them?” Larima asked from the co-pilot’s seat as she prepared the weapons array.
“Yes,” Chakotay said, “they don’t have the speed to out run us. They must know this.” Chakotay said, bewildered.
Larima snapped her fingers. “They must be trying to get him to some ship in orbit. Once they transport Jeranth they could beat any rap since we don’t even have any evidence that they took Jeranth.”
Chakotay scanned the read out on his screen. “The sensors show no ships in orbit anywhere near their position.” Then Chakotay smiled for a brief moment.
“Why are you grinning?” Larima asked her former lover, and father of their abducted child.
“Our son is no fool.” Chakotay said. “If they didn’t take serious measures to secure him, I think they are in for a real problem.”
“And that’s funny?” Larima countered.
Chakotay rubbed his strong jaw. “Our son has a very mighty right upper-punch.”
--
The young half Bajoran/half human boy, Jeranth, was not just your typical boy. Just for the fun of it, his father, Chakotay, had taught him many ways, over the years, how to free himself from various knots or restraining devices. It didn’t take long for the young kid to pick the lock of the old style wrist restraints with the small metal fragment he was able to snap off of the decrepit seat they had secured him too.
Mikkos came into the holding area.
“Alright kiddo,” Mikkos said, “time for you to earn us a very hefty pay check.”
The large man bent down to unfasten the boy’s restraints when suddenly Jeranth, all but five years old, punched the man in the right eye while almost in the same motion jabbing his other eye with the metal shard from the seat.
Unprepared for such an attack, Mikkos fell back on to the ground. Jeranth, who was always taught never to lose the imitative, pounced on the man and grabbed the Klingon-style disrupter from the man’s holster. Not waiting a second he fired the weapon, stunning the man out cold.
Jovi was doing his best to maintain the lead he had over the runabout that was following them through the atmosphere. The door to the cockpit opened.
“Did you apply the device like I showed you?” Jovi asked.
“No,” Jeranth said, “but I think this will do.” He put the tip of the disrupter to Jovi’s head.
The transport vessel powered down and soon both Chakotay and Larima beamed over to the motionless ship.
Chakotay could only smile as he and Larima shimmered onto the other ship. The sight of his young son holding one of the men at bay with a disrupter while standing with his foot on the back of the other man, who was not dead, just out cold on the floor, made both Chakotay and Larima proud.
Larima ran over and hugged his father as Larima drew her weapon and aimed it at Jovi. The father and son hugged each other tightly, and Larima could only smile. It was their first real family outing, she thought to her self.
The young boy was hugging his father’s neck and then he looked over to the woman.
“Are you my mother?” The boy asked.
Larima could not hold it in any longer. She nodded yes and the young boy leaped over to her and hugged her with all his young might. It was the first time she had hugged her son since the day he left her with Chakotay nearly five years ago. And it was the first time the boy had ever truly hugged his mother.
Chakotay, holding a phaser, turned his attention towards Jovi’s.
“Now,” Chakotay said to Jovi with an icy cold look in his eyes, “perhaps you can tell me why you abducted my son.”
--
CONTINUED
* these events are described in FRANK GRAYSON/USS ENTERPRISE. Follow this link for more.
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