This is the next installment in the Sutherland saga. I regret that my posting will not be as frequent as recent weeks as the fall semester has started, but I'll try to keep the stories coming on a regular basis. I'd like to thank both LoneRedShirt and DarKush for the use of their characters in this story. As always, your comments and suggestions are most welcome!
And now, on with the show:
Sutherland: Rocks and Shoals: Chapter 1
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The Molari Badlands: January 6, 2373
“Contact bearing thirty two degrees mark seven.” Lieutenant T’Ser, Operations Officer of the Starfleet Border Services cutter, USS Bluefin, announced, her face buried in the sensor hood. “Identification…” The Vulcan lieutenant reported, “Ferengi…fast freighter.”
“That’s interesting…” The skipper of the Albacore-class border cutter, Captain Joseph Akinola, a dark skinned man with a rugged, weathered face, observed as he leaned forward in his chair, “Ensign Bralus…” He ordered, addressing the young Bolian helmsman who had just recently joined the crew, “…plot an intercept course to that freighter and take us there at warp five…” As the vintage border cutter slipped into warp, Akinola’s eyes focused on the tiny dot on the main viewer that was the Ferengi vessel, he muttered to his first officer, Commander Dale McBride, “I’m more than a little curious, Dale, as to why our friend out there would risk crossing the Badlands now…when the ion storms are at their peak…rather than taking the normal shipping routes.”
“He could be rushing to beat a deadline…” The first officer speculated in his usual slow Texas drawl, “Or he might be carrying something that he’d rather not be caught with…”
“Could be…” Akinola conceded, “He could also be running away from someone, or…”
“He could be bait for a trap.” Commander McBride said, completing his commanding officer’s thoughts. Addressing the young Bolian sitting at the helm, the commander inquired, “Time to intercept, Mr. Bralus?”
“At current course and speed…” The blue-skinned ensign answered, “…three hours, twenty minutes.”
“Enough time for a cup of coffee…” The captain remarked as he rose from his chair. “You have the conn, XO. If that Ferengi tries to…”
“We’ll adjust and I’ll comm you immediately, Skipper.”
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Striding into the wardroom, Dr. Calvin Baxter, the Chief Medical Officer of the Bluefin, immediately spotted his captain sitting in his usual chair at his usual table, in his hands a ceramic mug emblazoned with the Bluefin’s crest and motto, “Semper Paratus”. “How’s the coffee, Joseph?” The white haired doctor asked in a jovial tone.
“Cookie just brewed up a fresh pot.” The captain replied with a friendly grin, “Grab yourself a mug and pull up a chair.”
“Hear from Morgan?” The doctor asked as he returned to the table carrying a mug of Cookie’s steaming brew in his hand. Sitting down across from his old friend, Dr. Baxter quipped, “He still shaking down Picard’s new baby?”
“Nah.” Akinola replied as he took a swig from his mug. “He’s back on the Bozeman…” Chuckling, the old time border skipper joked, “Got himself a new subspace romance going too…”
Shaking his head, Calvin joined in the good natured laughter, “So who’s this one?”
“A doctor this time…” Akinola’s laughter grew louder as Baxter’s eye’s widened in surprise, “He said she’s the CMO of the Sutherland…Denise Murakawa? I think that’s what he said her name was…”
“Hmmm…” The former head of Starfleet Medical vocalized as his mind raced, “Now where did I hear that name from? Oh, yeah!” He exclaimed, “I read a paper she wrote last year on something called forced biofeedback. The Sutherland had encountered some sort of entity that fed off of a lifeform’s bioessence. Well, she and the Sutherland’s operations officer…” The doctor explained, becoming more animated, “…developed a technique through…”
“Whoa, Calvin…whoa!” Joseph cried out, holding up his hands in mock surrender, “I get the picture!”
“Sorry, Joseph…” Dr. Baxter said with a twinkle in his eye, “But you know how we doctors get.” Smiling as he took a sip from his coffee, the white haired physician inquired, “So…did Morgan tell you how they met?”
His lips turning down into a disapproving frown, Akinola replied, “They met about six months ago at one of Shelby’s ‘parties’.”
“Oh…” Calvin responded as the ship’s intercom whistled followed immediately afterwards by Commander McBride’s voice.
“Captain? Our Ferengi friend has made us and has shifted course and increased speed.”
“All right…” Captain Akinola immediately responded, “Adjust our course accordingly, take us to maximum warp and bring the ship to yellow alert.” Finishing his coffee, Joseph looked across at his old friend. “I hope we won’t be needing your services, Calvin.”
“Amen to that, Joseph.”
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“So…” Akinola asked as he strode on to the bridge, making his way towards the center chair now being vacated by his first officer, “…what’s our fish been up to?”
“He’s been running an evasive pattern…” Commander McBride reported, “…but now…” the Texan declared as he called up a plot display on the main viewer, the Ferengi freighter and course highlighted in red while that of the Bluefin’s was shown in blue, “…he’s altered course back towards the Badlands.”
“Damn.” The crusty old skipper cursed, “He makes it into the Badlands, he’ll be hell to track down.” Carefully studying the display, the experienced captain’s lips turned up in a sly grin, “How’s our speed compared to his?”
“No contest there.” Dale answered back, “We’re gaining, but…” he added apologetically, “…he’ll still get to the Badlands before we can catch him.”
“Not if we alter our course by one degree…” Akinola said as a broken blue line appeared on the display, “…while at the same time increasing our speed by .5 warp.”
“That’ll get us to the Badlands ahead of the Ferengi…” Commander McBride observed, cracking a wicked grin, “…but you know Gralt’s going to pitch a fit.”
“He’ll deal.” Joseph chuckled as, activating his intercom, he hailed the Tellarite chief engineer, “Mr. Gralt…”
“By the fertility goddess’s left teat!” The gruff voice of the chief engineer came loudly through the speakers, received by assorted snickers amongst the bridge crew, “Do I have to do everything myself? I thought I told you to recalibrate that impulse manifold, Morris! Was your brain switched with that of a Pakled’s at birth or something? ”
“Mr. Gralt…” Akinola repeated, adding just a bit of edge to his voice.
“Sir? What is it?” The Tellarite responded in his usual gravelly tone.
“I need you to increase our speed by .5 warp for thirty minutes.” The captain declared. Hearing nothing but silence for several moments, Akinola repeated his request, “Did you hear me, Commander? I need you to increase our speed by .5 warp…”
“I heard you, Sir!” Gralt answered back gruffly. Picking up on the seriousness of his captain’s tone, the chief engineer bit back the sarcastic retort that was on his lips, answering instead, “I was just checking some figures. Aye, Sir…we’ll give you .5 warp for half an hour—but don’t ask for more unless you want to risk overloading my engines.”
“Thanks, Gralt.”
“You’re welcome.” The Tellarite replied with a huff, “Now…unless you’ve got something else, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me get back to work!” Moments later, the bridge crew heard through the speaker, “You heard the Captain! Time to get off your fat lazy asses and do some honest work for a change!”
Turning off the intercom, Akinola addressed his helmsman, “How long ‘til intercept?”
“Forty five minutes, Captain.” Ensign Bralus promptly responded as the sound of the engines took on a higher pitched tone before settling down into a low hum.
“Good.” The captain exclaimed, “Maintain course and speed.”
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USS Sutherland: January 6, 2373
“So…” Dr. Denise Murakawa asked with a playful smirk as she regarded the visage of Captain Morgan Bateson on her computer monitor, “…did you have fun playing with your new toy?” She asked, referring to the captain’s latest assignment as commanding officer of the Enterprise-E during its shakedown cruise.
Laughing, the bearded captain responded with a twinkle in his eye, “She’s a hot rod—no question about that! A far cry from the first ship I served on—the Merlin! An old Kestrel-class border cutter…” Her lips turned up in a grin, Denise made herself comfortable as her long distance romantic interest spun his tale of his first few days in the Border Service. Some time later, his yarn spun, the captain of the Bozeman looked fondly on the Japanese-Centauran woman on his viewscreen, “I’m sorry, Denise…” He apologized, a look of sincere regret on his face, “…it’s just that I get so wrapped up sometimes that I forget…”
“You don’t have to apologize…” Dr. Murakawa answered back with a warm smile, “I enjoy all your stories…I only wish I could have been there to see it happen for myself.” Fondly regarding the man on her screen, Denise said in a sympathetic voice, “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you and your crew—to find yourself suddenly ripped apart from everything and everyone you knew…flung into the future…”
His lips turning up into a sad smile, Captain Bateson replied with a sigh, “It took a bit of time…” he admitted, “…but we’ve…I’ve…adjusted. I’ve made new friends…good friends—you…” he said, his smile turning into a warm grin, “…Liz…Joe Akinola…Rodenko…Vrees…Cal Baxter…”
“Wait a minute…” Denise interrupted, her eyes wide in astonishment, “You know Admiral Baxter…Vice Admiral Calvin Baxter, head of Starfleet Medical?”
“Commander Baxter now…” Morgan chuckled, “Retirement didn’t sit too well with the man,” he joked, “So he pulled some strings and got assigned to the Bluefin with the provisional rank of commander.” His laughter dying down to be once again replaced by an affectionate grin, the bearded captain tantalized, “Maybe one day I’ll introduce you two…”
“I’d like that…” Denise responded with a loving smile of her own as the couple’s conversation drifted to other topics until, looking up, the young doctor exclaimed, “My God! I can’t believe I’ve lost track of time like that! I’m sorry, Morgan, but I’ve got to go—I’m late for my shift by five minutes!”
“Better hurry then…” The border skipper playfully chided, “You know how Liz can be. I’ll talk to you later.”
Her lover’s image disappearing from the computer monitor, Denise hit her comm badge, “Dr. Murakawa to sickbay…sorry I’m late, I’ll be there in two minutes.”
“That’s all right, Doctor.” Ensign M’rral, the head nurse, responded. “We understand.” Turning to the sickbay staff, the Caitan announced in a teasing voice, “The doctor just finished her conversation with Captain Bateson and will be here in a few minutes. Now who had forty-five minutes in the pool?”
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Bajor: January 6, 2373
“So what is your prognosis?” A brown haired middle aged Caucasian human male with a salt and pepper beard and wearing a blue Starfleet uniform with lieutenant commander’s rank pips asked. “What’s our daughter’s condition?”
“Your foster daughter’s made remarkable progress, Commander Ennis…” The Bajoran psychologist, Dr. Kira Lanys replied, speaking to both husband and wife.
“Lieutenant Sito’s recovery is due in no small part to your efforts…” Another woman, this one a Deltan wearing the blue uniform top and bearing the rank pins of a Starfleet lieutenant added in an encouraging voice. “Your help over the past few months has been invaluable.”
“But…” The brown haired woman, wearing a red command uniform and lieutenant commander’s pips, interjected, “…she still seems so much more…”
“Aggressive…” The Deltan councilor completed, nodding her head, “…angry…yes…” she concurred, “…her ordeal has left what are probably going to be permanent scars.”
“Keeping her here any longer, Commander Foster…” The Bajoran specialist chimed in, “…would prove counterproductive. You see, she’s at the stage now…” Dr. Kira explained, “…where she needs to begin rebuilding her life—to reestablish herself as a person. And the best way for her to do that is to…”
“Get out and actually do it.” Lieutenant Commander Foster completed, nodding his head. “On one level I…we…” She said, grasping her husband’s hand, “…understand. But on the other…”
“We can’t help but feel that she’s not really ready to go out there after everything she’s been through.” His lips turning up into a wry grin, Lieutenant Commander Ennis concluded, “It’s the concerned parents in us coming out.”
“That’s a very understandable reaction, Sir.” The Deltan councilor replied, “And, to be honest, the transition probably will not be a completely smooth one for her. She’s still very guarded in her actions and responses towards those she does not know—especially strange males. She will need to continue her therapy wherever she is assigned.”
“So…” Commander Foster asked, picking up from her husband, “What sort of assignment would you recommend for her?”
“There are a variety of good options.” The Deltan lieutenant responded, “But, if she is to begin rebuilding her life, then her choice should weigh heavily into whatever her next assignment is.”
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USS Bluefin: January 6, 2373
“We’ve got him!” Commander Dale McBride called out triumphantly as the Ferengi freighter grew larger in the Bluefin’s viewscreen.
“Load Mark 22 torpedoes.” Captain Akinola ordered, referring to the special ‘rat trap’ type torpedoes that were designed to destabilize warp fields without physically harming the ship they were fired on. “And hail that freighter—let’s see if he’s smart enough to know when to cut his losses.”
“He’s going evasive on us, Sir.” The Bluefin’s XO announced as the freighter began to execute a series of twisting turns and course changes.
“Fire torpedoes.” Akinola ordered, “Chief Brin…have your boarding party ready to go.”
“We’re ready to go whenever you give the word, Sir.” Senior Chief Solly Brin, the red Orion Chief of the Boat replied in a grim tone, cradling a phaser rifle in his hands.
“Torpedoes away.” McBride declared as the border cutter spat out two blobs of orange energy from its tubes. Direct hit!” The Texan announced in a professional tone, “They’ve dropped out of warp.”
Her lips curling up in a smirk Lieutenant T’Ser called out, “They’re hailing us, Captain.”
A sarcastic grin on his face as well, the dark-skinned captain answered back, “Put ‘em on.”
“This is an outrage!” The indignant Ferengi, wearing an expensive topcoat and neck covering of a daimon declared in a whiny voice, “You fired on my ship for no reason in neutral space! I demand compensation for this outrage! I’ll sue you and the Federation! I’ll…”
“You’ll shut up, heave to at once, and have your manifests ready for inspection!” Captain Akinola interrupted, glaring at the figure on his viewscreen. “Or the next time I fire, I’ll take out your engines.”
“Very well…” The Ferengi groused, “But your superiors are going to hear about this.”
“You’re welcome to file a protest at Star Station Echo.” Akinola answered back, gesturing to T’Ser to cut the connection. Turning to his first officer, the captain grinned, “Wanna lead the boarding party, XO?”
“Love to, Sir…” Commander McBride replied in his Texas drawl, “How fine tooth a comb do you want me to use through his papers?”
“The finest one you’ve got, Dale.” The Bluefin’s captain replied, flashing a wolfish grin. “That bastard’s hiding something and I want you and Solly to find it even if you have to tear that ship apart and put it back together again.”
“Gotcha, Cap’n.” The XO acknowledged, touching his comm badge as he left the bridge, “McBride to Chief Brin. Make sure your people bring their best magnifying glasses. We’re going to be giving that ship a real close look see.”
“Aye, Sir.” The big Orion chief replied. Addressing his boarding party, Solly barked out, “You heard the boss. I want you lot to go over every micron of that ship. Now, haul your asses to Transporter Room One and let’s get to work.”
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Bajor: January 6, 2373
“Hello, Jaxa.” Lieutenant commanders Foster and Ennis smiled as they gazed upon their foster daughter. Her long, luxurious blonde locks now shorn into a masculine short haircut, the young Bajoran’s Starfleet uniform, while it hid the tattoos on her right arm and lower back that she had just recently had done, could not completely hide the newly acquired muscular build of the former Enterprise security officer, nor could it hide the hard look in the young woman’s eyes. “The councilors say that you’re ready to go back in the field again.”
“It’s about time.” Lieutenant Sito replied in a low flat tone, “I’ve been telling them that for weeks.” Her lips curling up into a slight smile as she regarded her foster parents, a hint of her old self peeked out, “Did they say where I was going to be assigned?”
“They told us that a lot of that depends on where you want to go.” Her foster father, Lieutenant Commander Lamar Ennis said. “You’ve got plenty of options. Would you like to hear them?”
“Sure.” Jaxa responded, anticipation growing within her. “What are they?”
“Well…” Lieutenant Commander Elise Foster, her foster mother, began, “Captain Sisko said that he’d be happy to take you on as a security officer on Deep Space Nine. You’d be close to home there and he’s a good man. Also, Commander Worf is stationed there now.”
Her lips turning up in a warm smile at the mention of her old mentor, Lieutenant Sito remarked, “It’s tempting…but…I’m not sure I want to go to a space station at this time—even one like Deep Space Nine. What other choices do I have?”
“Captain Glover has said that you’d be welcome on the Cuffe.” Her foster father replied and then sounded a cautionary note, “I don’t know if this would make it good or not so good, but do you remember Jean Hajar?” Seeing the single nod of his foster daughter’s head, Ennis continued, “Well, she’s an enlisted crewman on the Cuffe now.”
Shaking her head, Jaxa declared, “I don’t think I’m ready to deal with Hajar right now. What are my other options?”
“Captain Picard told us that he’d love to have you back with him.” Elise said with a grin. “He’s taking command of the Enterprise-E, one of the new Sovereigns. Except for Commander Worf, just about all of the rest of his senior staff is going there with him, and Councilor Troi would be there in case…”
“No.” The young Bajoran flatly stated, the harsh glare returning to her eyes, “I don’t want to serve on the Enterprise—especially if Captain Picard is in command.”
“You could…” Lamar said hesitatingly, not sure if he should make the offer, “…if you want to…come with us to the Yorktown. Captain Thomas told us that you’d be welcome aboard and we’d love to have you with us.”
“Thank you, Dad…Mom…” Jaxa answered back, tears rolling down her cheeks, “I really mean that. But, I need to…I have to…do this on my own. You understand?”
“Of course we do, Sweetie!” Elise responded as both foster parents hugged their adopted daughter. Reluctantly breaking from their embrace, Lieutenant Commander Foster told her daughter, “There is another option—Captain Shelby wanted us to let you know that she’d still like to have you on board the Sutherland. Lieutenant Lavelle is there as is Ensign Django and the others. You’d be surrounded by friends, but…” She hesitated for a moment before continuing, “…you know Captain Shelby is something of a…picturesque…figure and the Sutherland has a rather controversial reputation with the rest of the Fleet. Are you sure you want to serve there?”
“Mom…” Lieutenant Sito declared shaking her head as her lips turned up into a grim smile, “You know as well as I do that with my record I’m never going to make higher than full lieutenant…maybe lieutenant commander…at best. I’ve got way too much baggage what with the business at the Academy and…” She shuddered momentarily, “…everything else. It’d be a miracle for me to ever get that third solid pip and as for making captain…” She laughed bitterly, “There’s no way in the hells that’s ever going to happen.”
Reluctantly acknowledging the truth behind their foster daughter’s words, the Starfleet couple looked fondly on their young Bajoran ward. “So…I guess you’re going on the Sutherland…” Lamar remarked with a lopsided grin.
“Yeah.” Sito responded, returning her father’s grin, “I guess I am.”
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Molari Badlands: January 6, 2373
“Daimon Golb, I’m sure you know the drill…” Commander McBride, stepping off the Ferengi freighter’s transporter pad, stated in a flat tone as he gazed down on the corpulent Ferengi captain standing before him and his boarding party. “Your manifest and papers, please.”
“Of course…of course…” The daimon replied unctuously. “I’m sure you’ll find everything in order…” He wheedled as he escorted the commander off the pad. “I’ve got some tulaberry wine from the Gamma Quadrant—hard to get now! Come…try a glass…”
“Maybe later…” Dale politely demurred, “…after we’ve completed your inspection.” Turning to Chief Brin and his crew, the Bluefin’s XO directed, “Solly…take your people and begin your examination of the cargo holds.” Turning his attention back to the Ferengi merchant as the chief led his people out of the transporter room, McBride plastered on a polite grin, “Now, Daimon…as to your papers…”
“Right…” The Ferengi replied, still maintaining an eager to please tone, “Right this way…”
As the first officer and daimon strode on to the freighter’s bridge, the daimon called out, “Lem! Where is that manifest I told you to have ready?”
“Right here, Daimon Golb!” A diminutive Ferengi bearing a padd in his hands scurried up to his employer, “Here it is.”
“Don’t give it to me, you lobeless idiot!” The daimon swore, cuffing the unfortunate wretch cringing before him, “Give it to him!” He ordered, gesturing towards Commander McBride.
“Thank you.” The commander said, making a point of being polite to the cowering figure before him. Examining the information on the padd, Dale muttered, “Name of ship…Venture Profit. Carrying tulaberry wine, springwine, kanar…” Looking up from the padd, the first officer noted, “I see from your flight plan and manifest that you’ve been doing business in Bajoran and Cardassian space…as well as the DMZ…dangerous route…”
“The riskier the road…” Daimon Glob recited.
“The greater the profit. Yeah. I know.” McBride responded, “The sixty second Rule of Acquisition.” Turning his attention back to the padd in his hands, the commander remarked, “Let’s see what else you’ve got…”
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“Looks like this one’s clean.” Crewman Taggart called out from the cargo pallet he had been inspecting. “Just like what the cargo manifest says—Bajoran springwine. Pulling one of the bottles out of its case, the young crewman jibed, “Never had springwine before. I wonder what it tastes like.”
“Tastes like a week scrubbing the waste reclamation units if you don’t put that bottle back where you found it, Taggart!” Brin yelled back as he closed the lid on the case of tulaberry wine that he’d been inspecting.
“I don’t think there’s anything here, Chief.” Crewman Epstein chimed in, returning from the pallets that he had been assigned to check. “Nothing but kanar…”
“Something’s not right…” The red Orion chief muttered aloud, “Have you ever known a Ferengi trader to ever play it one hundred percent straight? There’s almost always something…” he said as he carefully scanned the cargo hold with his eyes. “Some angle…somewhere…” The wily chief’s lips then turned up in a sly smile as his eyes fell on a faint glint coming from one of the pallets his people had just recently inspected. Holding his hand up, he motioned for Taggart and Epstein to take up positions behind the cover of two of the pallets in such a manner that their weapons field of fire would interlock in an effective kill zone. Approaching the pallet where he saw the glinting object, Solly’s smile grew wider as he recognized it for what it was: a very well hidden holographic emitter concealed in the very base of the pallet. Kneeling down to one side of the emitter, the chief withdrew the large knife he carried sheathed at his hip, striking the emitter with the pommel of the blade, shattering it.
Almost immediately, the section of wall before the emitter dissolved into static before disappearing, revealing an additional cargo area. “Just as I thought.” Solly muttered triumphantly to himself as he tapped his intercom twice.
Immediately recognizing the prearranged signal sent by the Orion CPO, McBride’s hand fell to the butt of his phaser as he spoke to the Ferengi standing before him, “Daimon Golb? Would you like to tell me now what you’re carrying in that hidden cargo space my people just found?” Spotting movement out of the corner of his eye, Dale drew his weapon, pointing it at the Ferengi reaching for the phaser concealed in his jacket. “I wouldn’t…” The Texan warned, “…not unless you want to wake up with a really…really…bad headache.” Watching carefully as the Ferengi slowly held his hands up in the air, Dale grinned, “Much better…now…” He motioned with his phaser, “…in front with everyone else.” Touching his comm badge, the XO spoke, “McBride to Chief Brin…what did you find?”
“Compartment hidden by a holoscreen.” The chief promptly replied, “Sophisticated one too. We nearly missed it.”
“Have you checked out the compartment yet?”
“No…I was about to.” Chief Brin answered back, “Do you want us to hold off?”
“Wait one.” Commander McBride ordered as he looked down on the fat daimon standing quivering before him, “What’s in the compartment, Daimon?” Receiving only sullen silence in return, Dale tapped his comm badge once again, “Chief. The good daimon isn’t being very cooperative. Go ahead and proceed, but exercise extreme caution. I’ll call for the captain to send over Chief Deryx and his team to help out.”
“Yes, Sir,” Solly acknowledged. Taking out his tricorder, the chief scanned the previously hidden compartment, his instrument immediately picking up on the two figures crouching behind a pallet. Touching his comm badge, the Orion whispered, “Brin to Bluefin…requesting high security transport…two lifesigns…one Rutian, the other Bzzit Khaht…presumed hostile approximately twenty meters from my location. Hearing two clicks in response, the chief held his hand up, signaling his crew to wait until he heard the tell tale sound of the Bluefin’s transporters. Moments later, Captain Akinola’s voice came through his comm badge.
“Akinola to Brin. Good work, Chief. We’ve got the Rutian and Bzzit Khaht locked up in the brig and T’Ser’s running a check on them. Did you copy that XO?”
“Yes, Sir.” McBride confirmed, “We’re going to need Chief Deryx and his team to help secure the ship, Captain.”
“They’re on their way, XO.” Captain Akinola quickly responded. Turning to his operations officer, the captain instructed, “Once Commander McBride has completed his inspection, I want you to take charge of the freighter while we take it in tow back to Star Station Echo.”
“Yes, Sir.” The Vulcan woman immediately responded as Lieutenant (jg) Bane quickly relieved her.
Tapping his comm badge, Akinola called out, “Dale? Did you get that?”
“Yes, Captain.” The Texan replied, “Chief Brin should be done with his inspection shortly, what do you want done with the daimon and his crew?”
“Put the daimon and his first officer under arrest and bring them back here.” The captain ordered, “As for the rest of the freighter’s crew…as long as they behave themselves, confinement to quarters should be good enough.”
“Understood, Sir.” Dale affirmed as his comm badge beeped, “This is McBride…go ahead.”
“Sir?” Chief Brin said, his voice barely containing his excitement, “You might want to come down here and take a look at this once Lieutenant T’Ser and the others get here.”
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“Damn.” Commander McBride swore softly as he examined the contents of one of the containers in the hidden storage compartment. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Corillan acid.” T’Ser confirmed, not even bothering trying to hide the disgust in her voice or eyes as she gazed down on the highly illegal hallucinogen. “I can’t believe that damned stuff’s here now.”
“What is it?” Dale asked, curious, as, holding one of the green liquid filled vials up to his eyes, he peered at its contents.
“Nasty stuff.” Chief Brin interjected. “I heard about it through…a relative. It was derived from ris-vil-ouyan…”
“Brain blast.” Dale grimaced.
“Right.” Solly affirmed, “Only this stuff is much…much…worse. Unlike brain blast, it doesn’t boost strength or induce homicidal behavior. It’s a combination hallucinogenic, depressive, euphoric, and aphrodisiac all rolled up into one neat package that’s highly addictive both physically and psychologically.” His voice now a low growl, the red Orion concluded, “From what I’ve been told, one of its uses is to keep slaves in line…especially those working in brothels.”
“Why haven’t I heard of this?” Dale asked, carefully putting the vial back into its case.
“Until recently its use has been pretty much confined to the Bajoran sector.” T’Ser replied, her heart beating just a touch faster as her eyes fell on the handsome face of the Bluefin’s executive officer, “As the Chief said, brothel owners use it to keep their workers in line, but it’s also gotten more popular in the border areas—and its even beginning to show up in the Core Worlds. It’s an easy and potent high.”
“So much for paradise.” Dale remarked, shaking his head in both disgust and disbelief.
“I think paradise…or rather the illusion of it…” T’Ser answered back with a frown, “Went away once and for all with Leyton’s coup.”
“That’s a discussion we can postpone for another time.” McBride declared as he put the lid back on the container. “Lieutenant…” he instructed, fighting the smile that wanted to come to his face as he looked into the lovely Vulcan woman’s eyes, “I want two guards assigned to this compartment 24/7 until Captain Akinola or I say otherwise.”
“Aye, Sir.” T’Ser crisply responded, motioning for two crewmen to immediately assume guard duty at the compartment entrance.
“Chief…” Commander McBride ordered, turning his attention now to the Orion senior chief, “You’re with me. It’s time we introduce Daimon Golb to our brig.”
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Deep Space Five: January 9, 2373
As he gazed at the image of the pretty blonde starship captain on his screen, Admiral Samson Glover smiled warmly, “Morning, Liz…you look like you had a good night’s sleep…” He teased, noticing the heavily lidded eyes of the Sutherland’s captain, not to mention the large mug of coffee placed before her on her desk.
“You know me…” Captain Shelby riposted as she took a sip of the warm brew, “I’m just not a morning person.” The starship captain then asked in a jovial tone that masked her eager alertness, “Is this a social call—or business?”
“Business, I’m afraid.” Samson replied grimly. “Switch to subspace channel “D” and scramble.
Moving quickly to comply, Liz waited as the squiggly lines of static resolved themselves once more into the admiral’s image, “Done, Sir. What’s this about?”
“What I am about to tell you is on a strictly need to know basis, understood?” Taking the blonde captain’s single nod of the head as agreement, Admiral Glover continued, “Remember that plan that you, Ben, and Constable Odo cooked up a little over a year ago after you ran into that Ferengi freighter smuggling weapons?”
“Yeah…” Liz replied, “The Constable told us that a faction of the Kon-Ma, with the probable cooperation of the Orion Syndicate was responsible. Unfortunately…” Captain Shelby grimaced, “…we haven’t been able to find an opening to get our man in.”
“Well, Captain…” The dark-skinned admiral smirked triumphantly, “…you’ve got one now…”
Catching the scent of her prey, Liz licked her lips in anticipation, “…tell me more, Sir.”
*********************************************************************
His conversation with the blonde starship captain terminated, Admiral Glover spoke, “Computer, first I want you to connect me with Legate Parma of the Cardassian Ministry of Justice and then I’ll want to speak with Admiral Fenross at Star Station Echo. Both communications are to be priority and scrambled.”
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Star Station Echo: January 10, 2373
“Come in, Captain Akinola, Come in.” Rear Admiral Maurice Fenross, the commanding officer of the Seventh Border Service Squadron, requested, motioning for the captain of the Bluefin to sit down in one of the uncomfortable looking high backed chairs in front of the admiral’s desk. “Fine job you did with that Ferengi freighter, Captain…damned fine job.” The admiral praised in a high pitched, condescending English accent that the no-nonsense former chief petty officer seated before him found both irritating and ridiculous. “You made a big catch—besides the contraband…” Wincing inwardly at his superior’s reference to the highly addictive and destructive Corillan acid as mere ‘contraband’, Akinola almost missed the rest of the pompous admiral’s patronizing remarks, his ears pricking up again as the topic turned to the two undocumented passengers on the freighter, “…belong to a cell that Starfleet is particularly interested in busting up.”
“I assume they’re being sent on to Pacifica for trial?” Akinola queried.
“No…” Fenross shook his head, “The Cardassian government has requested their extradition. So…as per the treaty recently signed between our two governments, you are to take them to Deep Space Nine where you will turn them over to station security there pending their eventual transfer to Cardassian custody.”
“But Sir…” Akinola protested, “They were caught in Federation space carrying highly illegal—and dangerous—narcotics. We should have first crack at them.”
“Not this time, old boy.” Fenross interrupted, cutting his subordinate’s next words off, “Admiral Glover also has some additional orders…” The arrogant admiral’s expression now taking on what seemed to be an almost sympathetic look, Fenross continued as he handed a padd displaying the words ‘Confidential: Need to Know’ to the captain, “…and I can assure you that you will not like these orders.”
Shaking his head in astonishment as he discovered that, in order to open the orders, he had to not only give his thumb print, but also submit to a retinal scan and voice analysis, the dark-skinned captain of the Bluefin read the text displayed on the padd. As he read, Akinola’s teeth clenched as he contained his growing rage, “You’re right, Sir.” The outraged captain growled, "I don’t like these orders. I want to know why my Chief of the Boat is being transferred to Deep Space Five!”
“Sorry, old boy…” Fenross replied; his voice genuinely apologetic, “Need to know, you understand…”
“No, I don’t!” Joseph countered, “I need more than that.”
“No, you don’t.” Fenross replied, now taking on a stern gaze as he addressed his border skipper, “These are legal orders issued by a superior officer and you will either carry them out or I will find someone else who will.” His expression softening, the normally haughty admiral added in an almost conciliatory tone, “If it’s any consolation to you, old boy, I wasn’t told the reason for your chief’s transfer either—and yes, Captain, I did ask, and received the same answer I just gave you. It’s just a temporary transfer, Joseph…he’ll return when he’s completed whatever task Admiral Glover has set for him.”
Noting the rare use of his first name by the normally punctiliously correct Fenross, Akinola nodded his head sullenly, “I’ll inform Chief Brin of his change in status. When is he to report to DS 5?”
“Admiral Glover has sent a runabout for him.” Fenross replied, “It should arrive within the next day or two. He’ll have that long to get his affairs in order and for you to say your goodbyes.” Looking up from his desk, the admiral concluded their meeting, “Unless you have something else, Captain…”
“No, Sir.” Akinola answered back as he got up out of his chair.
“Very good, then.” Fenross stated formally, “You are dismissed.”
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USS Sutherland: January 10, 2373
“Come in, Manuele…” Captain Shelby invited as she gestured at a chair across from the mahogany desk behind which she sat, “Have a seat.” Watching with a grave expression as her Tactical Officer sat down in the comfortable leather chair, the petite captain steepled her fingers, “Admiral Glover has finally green lighted our operation—you’re a go.”
“When?” The New Kauaian security officer asked, his ears pricking up in anticipation of the hunt.
“We set things in motion as soon as you walk out that door.” Shelby replied, jerking her head towards her ready room door. “This just came in…” the captain said as she handed Manuele a padd. “Two members of a Maquis cell were picked off of a Ferengi freighter by a border cutter…the Bluefin…out in the Molari Badlands, along with a cargo of Corillan acid.” Her tactical officer’s eyebrows rising at the mention of the dangerous narcotic, Shelby nodded her head, “I had the same reaction when I found out. Looks like our old friend Gul Rejak and the Orions are at it again along with the Maquis and Kon-Ma. The big question here is: Are they working together or is this just a confluence of forces. In any event…” She said as she glanced down at her padd, “The Bluefin is being ordered to deliver their prisoners to Deep Space Nine—the reason being given is that the Cardassians are insisting on their extradition.”
“Are they?” Atoa asked as he leaned forward in his chair.
“Yes.” Liz answered. “The Cardassians were informed of their capture and they’ve begun the extradition process. Their names are…” Glancing down at her padd, she read aloud, “…a Bzzit Khaht named Nura and a Rutian named Larkin.”
“Any details on them?” Manuele inquired.
“Yeah.” Captain Shelby answered as she handed the padd to her tactical officer, “Nura is supposed to be something of a Sierra Hotel pilot and…and this is far more important…according to our intel, Larkin is involved with the leader of this particular cell—Sabrina Diaz…”
On hearing that name, Lieutenant Atoa let out an astonished, “Whoa…”
Cracking a wry grin, Captain Shelby remarked dryly, “I take it you’ve heard of her…”
“Yes, Sir.” Manuele replied, “Captain of the Cuffe until she resigned her commission. I remember Nyota telling me about her and Captain Glover’s…unfortunate…experience with Diaz on Umoth VII.”
“Glover got off lucky.” Shelby grimaced. “She’s smart, quick, and can be very ruthless if she thinks the situation calls for it.”
“Yeah…” Lieutenant Atoa acknowledged, “I read where she backed Glover down by severing the finger of his Cardassian liaison.”
“She would have severed a lot more than his fingers.” Shelby flatly declared as she fixed her tactical officer in her gaze, “Make no mistake, Mr. Atoa, Sabrina Diaz is one dangerous bitch. She’ll be watching your every step and if you slip up even just a little bit and she catches you…while she probably won’t kill you unless you give her no other choice, she’ll make sure that you—and we—pay a very stiff price to get you back. So, Manuele…” Liz said as she gave her security officer an appraising look, “…this is your last chance, if you want to back out, tell me now.”
“What’s the mission brief, Sir?” Manuele asked; his eyes not wavering from his captain’s as she detailed her plan.
***********************************************************************
And now, on with the show:
Sutherland: Rocks and Shoals: Chapter 1
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The Molari Badlands: January 6, 2373
“Contact bearing thirty two degrees mark seven.” Lieutenant T’Ser, Operations Officer of the Starfleet Border Services cutter, USS Bluefin, announced, her face buried in the sensor hood. “Identification…” The Vulcan lieutenant reported, “Ferengi…fast freighter.”
“That’s interesting…” The skipper of the Albacore-class border cutter, Captain Joseph Akinola, a dark skinned man with a rugged, weathered face, observed as he leaned forward in his chair, “Ensign Bralus…” He ordered, addressing the young Bolian helmsman who had just recently joined the crew, “…plot an intercept course to that freighter and take us there at warp five…” As the vintage border cutter slipped into warp, Akinola’s eyes focused on the tiny dot on the main viewer that was the Ferengi vessel, he muttered to his first officer, Commander Dale McBride, “I’m more than a little curious, Dale, as to why our friend out there would risk crossing the Badlands now…when the ion storms are at their peak…rather than taking the normal shipping routes.”
“He could be rushing to beat a deadline…” The first officer speculated in his usual slow Texas drawl, “Or he might be carrying something that he’d rather not be caught with…”
“Could be…” Akinola conceded, “He could also be running away from someone, or…”
“He could be bait for a trap.” Commander McBride said, completing his commanding officer’s thoughts. Addressing the young Bolian sitting at the helm, the commander inquired, “Time to intercept, Mr. Bralus?”
“At current course and speed…” The blue-skinned ensign answered, “…three hours, twenty minutes.”
“Enough time for a cup of coffee…” The captain remarked as he rose from his chair. “You have the conn, XO. If that Ferengi tries to…”
“We’ll adjust and I’ll comm you immediately, Skipper.”
********************************************************************
Striding into the wardroom, Dr. Calvin Baxter, the Chief Medical Officer of the Bluefin, immediately spotted his captain sitting in his usual chair at his usual table, in his hands a ceramic mug emblazoned with the Bluefin’s crest and motto, “Semper Paratus”. “How’s the coffee, Joseph?” The white haired doctor asked in a jovial tone.
“Cookie just brewed up a fresh pot.” The captain replied with a friendly grin, “Grab yourself a mug and pull up a chair.”
“Hear from Morgan?” The doctor asked as he returned to the table carrying a mug of Cookie’s steaming brew in his hand. Sitting down across from his old friend, Dr. Baxter quipped, “He still shaking down Picard’s new baby?”
“Nah.” Akinola replied as he took a swig from his mug. “He’s back on the Bozeman…” Chuckling, the old time border skipper joked, “Got himself a new subspace romance going too…”
Shaking his head, Calvin joined in the good natured laughter, “So who’s this one?”
“A doctor this time…” Akinola’s laughter grew louder as Baxter’s eye’s widened in surprise, “He said she’s the CMO of the Sutherland…Denise Murakawa? I think that’s what he said her name was…”
“Hmmm…” The former head of Starfleet Medical vocalized as his mind raced, “Now where did I hear that name from? Oh, yeah!” He exclaimed, “I read a paper she wrote last year on something called forced biofeedback. The Sutherland had encountered some sort of entity that fed off of a lifeform’s bioessence. Well, she and the Sutherland’s operations officer…” The doctor explained, becoming more animated, “…developed a technique through…”
“Whoa, Calvin…whoa!” Joseph cried out, holding up his hands in mock surrender, “I get the picture!”
“Sorry, Joseph…” Dr. Baxter said with a twinkle in his eye, “But you know how we doctors get.” Smiling as he took a sip from his coffee, the white haired physician inquired, “So…did Morgan tell you how they met?”
His lips turning down into a disapproving frown, Akinola replied, “They met about six months ago at one of Shelby’s ‘parties’.”
“Oh…” Calvin responded as the ship’s intercom whistled followed immediately afterwards by Commander McBride’s voice.
“Captain? Our Ferengi friend has made us and has shifted course and increased speed.”
“All right…” Captain Akinola immediately responded, “Adjust our course accordingly, take us to maximum warp and bring the ship to yellow alert.” Finishing his coffee, Joseph looked across at his old friend. “I hope we won’t be needing your services, Calvin.”
“Amen to that, Joseph.”
*********************************************************************
“So…” Akinola asked as he strode on to the bridge, making his way towards the center chair now being vacated by his first officer, “…what’s our fish been up to?”
“He’s been running an evasive pattern…” Commander McBride reported, “…but now…” the Texan declared as he called up a plot display on the main viewer, the Ferengi freighter and course highlighted in red while that of the Bluefin’s was shown in blue, “…he’s altered course back towards the Badlands.”
“Damn.” The crusty old skipper cursed, “He makes it into the Badlands, he’ll be hell to track down.” Carefully studying the display, the experienced captain’s lips turned up in a sly grin, “How’s our speed compared to his?”
“No contest there.” Dale answered back, “We’re gaining, but…” he added apologetically, “…he’ll still get to the Badlands before we can catch him.”
“Not if we alter our course by one degree…” Akinola said as a broken blue line appeared on the display, “…while at the same time increasing our speed by .5 warp.”
“That’ll get us to the Badlands ahead of the Ferengi…” Commander McBride observed, cracking a wicked grin, “…but you know Gralt’s going to pitch a fit.”
“He’ll deal.” Joseph chuckled as, activating his intercom, he hailed the Tellarite chief engineer, “Mr. Gralt…”
“By the fertility goddess’s left teat!” The gruff voice of the chief engineer came loudly through the speakers, received by assorted snickers amongst the bridge crew, “Do I have to do everything myself? I thought I told you to recalibrate that impulse manifold, Morris! Was your brain switched with that of a Pakled’s at birth or something? ”
“Mr. Gralt…” Akinola repeated, adding just a bit of edge to his voice.
“Sir? What is it?” The Tellarite responded in his usual gravelly tone.
“I need you to increase our speed by .5 warp for thirty minutes.” The captain declared. Hearing nothing but silence for several moments, Akinola repeated his request, “Did you hear me, Commander? I need you to increase our speed by .5 warp…”
“I heard you, Sir!” Gralt answered back gruffly. Picking up on the seriousness of his captain’s tone, the chief engineer bit back the sarcastic retort that was on his lips, answering instead, “I was just checking some figures. Aye, Sir…we’ll give you .5 warp for half an hour—but don’t ask for more unless you want to risk overloading my engines.”
“Thanks, Gralt.”
“You’re welcome.” The Tellarite replied with a huff, “Now…unless you’ve got something else, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me get back to work!” Moments later, the bridge crew heard through the speaker, “You heard the Captain! Time to get off your fat lazy asses and do some honest work for a change!”
Turning off the intercom, Akinola addressed his helmsman, “How long ‘til intercept?”
“Forty five minutes, Captain.” Ensign Bralus promptly responded as the sound of the engines took on a higher pitched tone before settling down into a low hum.
“Good.” The captain exclaimed, “Maintain course and speed.”
********************************************************************
USS Sutherland: January 6, 2373
“So…” Dr. Denise Murakawa asked with a playful smirk as she regarded the visage of Captain Morgan Bateson on her computer monitor, “…did you have fun playing with your new toy?” She asked, referring to the captain’s latest assignment as commanding officer of the Enterprise-E during its shakedown cruise.
Laughing, the bearded captain responded with a twinkle in his eye, “She’s a hot rod—no question about that! A far cry from the first ship I served on—the Merlin! An old Kestrel-class border cutter…” Her lips turned up in a grin, Denise made herself comfortable as her long distance romantic interest spun his tale of his first few days in the Border Service. Some time later, his yarn spun, the captain of the Bozeman looked fondly on the Japanese-Centauran woman on his viewscreen, “I’m sorry, Denise…” He apologized, a look of sincere regret on his face, “…it’s just that I get so wrapped up sometimes that I forget…”
“You don’t have to apologize…” Dr. Murakawa answered back with a warm smile, “I enjoy all your stories…I only wish I could have been there to see it happen for myself.” Fondly regarding the man on her screen, Denise said in a sympathetic voice, “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you and your crew—to find yourself suddenly ripped apart from everything and everyone you knew…flung into the future…”
His lips turning up into a sad smile, Captain Bateson replied with a sigh, “It took a bit of time…” he admitted, “…but we’ve…I’ve…adjusted. I’ve made new friends…good friends—you…” he said, his smile turning into a warm grin, “…Liz…Joe Akinola…Rodenko…Vrees…Cal Baxter…”
“Wait a minute…” Denise interrupted, her eyes wide in astonishment, “You know Admiral Baxter…Vice Admiral Calvin Baxter, head of Starfleet Medical?”
“Commander Baxter now…” Morgan chuckled, “Retirement didn’t sit too well with the man,” he joked, “So he pulled some strings and got assigned to the Bluefin with the provisional rank of commander.” His laughter dying down to be once again replaced by an affectionate grin, the bearded captain tantalized, “Maybe one day I’ll introduce you two…”
“I’d like that…” Denise responded with a loving smile of her own as the couple’s conversation drifted to other topics until, looking up, the young doctor exclaimed, “My God! I can’t believe I’ve lost track of time like that! I’m sorry, Morgan, but I’ve got to go—I’m late for my shift by five minutes!”
“Better hurry then…” The border skipper playfully chided, “You know how Liz can be. I’ll talk to you later.”
Her lover’s image disappearing from the computer monitor, Denise hit her comm badge, “Dr. Murakawa to sickbay…sorry I’m late, I’ll be there in two minutes.”
“That’s all right, Doctor.” Ensign M’rral, the head nurse, responded. “We understand.” Turning to the sickbay staff, the Caitan announced in a teasing voice, “The doctor just finished her conversation with Captain Bateson and will be here in a few minutes. Now who had forty-five minutes in the pool?”
*********************************************************************
Bajor: January 6, 2373
“So what is your prognosis?” A brown haired middle aged Caucasian human male with a salt and pepper beard and wearing a blue Starfleet uniform with lieutenant commander’s rank pips asked. “What’s our daughter’s condition?”
“Your foster daughter’s made remarkable progress, Commander Ennis…” The Bajoran psychologist, Dr. Kira Lanys replied, speaking to both husband and wife.
“Lieutenant Sito’s recovery is due in no small part to your efforts…” Another woman, this one a Deltan wearing the blue uniform top and bearing the rank pins of a Starfleet lieutenant added in an encouraging voice. “Your help over the past few months has been invaluable.”
“But…” The brown haired woman, wearing a red command uniform and lieutenant commander’s pips, interjected, “…she still seems so much more…”
“Aggressive…” The Deltan councilor completed, nodding her head, “…angry…yes…” she concurred, “…her ordeal has left what are probably going to be permanent scars.”
“Keeping her here any longer, Commander Foster…” The Bajoran specialist chimed in, “…would prove counterproductive. You see, she’s at the stage now…” Dr. Kira explained, “…where she needs to begin rebuilding her life—to reestablish herself as a person. And the best way for her to do that is to…”
“Get out and actually do it.” Lieutenant Commander Foster completed, nodding his head. “On one level I…we…” She said, grasping her husband’s hand, “…understand. But on the other…”
“We can’t help but feel that she’s not really ready to go out there after everything she’s been through.” His lips turning up into a wry grin, Lieutenant Commander Ennis concluded, “It’s the concerned parents in us coming out.”
“That’s a very understandable reaction, Sir.” The Deltan councilor replied, “And, to be honest, the transition probably will not be a completely smooth one for her. She’s still very guarded in her actions and responses towards those she does not know—especially strange males. She will need to continue her therapy wherever she is assigned.”
“So…” Commander Foster asked, picking up from her husband, “What sort of assignment would you recommend for her?”
“There are a variety of good options.” The Deltan lieutenant responded, “But, if she is to begin rebuilding her life, then her choice should weigh heavily into whatever her next assignment is.”
********************************************************************
USS Bluefin: January 6, 2373
“We’ve got him!” Commander Dale McBride called out triumphantly as the Ferengi freighter grew larger in the Bluefin’s viewscreen.
“Load Mark 22 torpedoes.” Captain Akinola ordered, referring to the special ‘rat trap’ type torpedoes that were designed to destabilize warp fields without physically harming the ship they were fired on. “And hail that freighter—let’s see if he’s smart enough to know when to cut his losses.”
“He’s going evasive on us, Sir.” The Bluefin’s XO announced as the freighter began to execute a series of twisting turns and course changes.
“Fire torpedoes.” Akinola ordered, “Chief Brin…have your boarding party ready to go.”
“We’re ready to go whenever you give the word, Sir.” Senior Chief Solly Brin, the red Orion Chief of the Boat replied in a grim tone, cradling a phaser rifle in his hands.
“Torpedoes away.” McBride declared as the border cutter spat out two blobs of orange energy from its tubes. Direct hit!” The Texan announced in a professional tone, “They’ve dropped out of warp.”
Her lips curling up in a smirk Lieutenant T’Ser called out, “They’re hailing us, Captain.”
A sarcastic grin on his face as well, the dark-skinned captain answered back, “Put ‘em on.”
“This is an outrage!” The indignant Ferengi, wearing an expensive topcoat and neck covering of a daimon declared in a whiny voice, “You fired on my ship for no reason in neutral space! I demand compensation for this outrage! I’ll sue you and the Federation! I’ll…”
“You’ll shut up, heave to at once, and have your manifests ready for inspection!” Captain Akinola interrupted, glaring at the figure on his viewscreen. “Or the next time I fire, I’ll take out your engines.”
“Very well…” The Ferengi groused, “But your superiors are going to hear about this.”
“You’re welcome to file a protest at Star Station Echo.” Akinola answered back, gesturing to T’Ser to cut the connection. Turning to his first officer, the captain grinned, “Wanna lead the boarding party, XO?”
“Love to, Sir…” Commander McBride replied in his Texas drawl, “How fine tooth a comb do you want me to use through his papers?”
“The finest one you’ve got, Dale.” The Bluefin’s captain replied, flashing a wolfish grin. “That bastard’s hiding something and I want you and Solly to find it even if you have to tear that ship apart and put it back together again.”
“Gotcha, Cap’n.” The XO acknowledged, touching his comm badge as he left the bridge, “McBride to Chief Brin. Make sure your people bring their best magnifying glasses. We’re going to be giving that ship a real close look see.”
“Aye, Sir.” The big Orion chief replied. Addressing his boarding party, Solly barked out, “You heard the boss. I want you lot to go over every micron of that ship. Now, haul your asses to Transporter Room One and let’s get to work.”
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Bajor: January 6, 2373
“Hello, Jaxa.” Lieutenant commanders Foster and Ennis smiled as they gazed upon their foster daughter. Her long, luxurious blonde locks now shorn into a masculine short haircut, the young Bajoran’s Starfleet uniform, while it hid the tattoos on her right arm and lower back that she had just recently had done, could not completely hide the newly acquired muscular build of the former Enterprise security officer, nor could it hide the hard look in the young woman’s eyes. “The councilors say that you’re ready to go back in the field again.”
“It’s about time.” Lieutenant Sito replied in a low flat tone, “I’ve been telling them that for weeks.” Her lips curling up into a slight smile as she regarded her foster parents, a hint of her old self peeked out, “Did they say where I was going to be assigned?”
“They told us that a lot of that depends on where you want to go.” Her foster father, Lieutenant Commander Lamar Ennis said. “You’ve got plenty of options. Would you like to hear them?”
“Sure.” Jaxa responded, anticipation growing within her. “What are they?”
“Well…” Lieutenant Commander Elise Foster, her foster mother, began, “Captain Sisko said that he’d be happy to take you on as a security officer on Deep Space Nine. You’d be close to home there and he’s a good man. Also, Commander Worf is stationed there now.”
Her lips turning up in a warm smile at the mention of her old mentor, Lieutenant Sito remarked, “It’s tempting…but…I’m not sure I want to go to a space station at this time—even one like Deep Space Nine. What other choices do I have?”
“Captain Glover has said that you’d be welcome on the Cuffe.” Her foster father replied and then sounded a cautionary note, “I don’t know if this would make it good or not so good, but do you remember Jean Hajar?” Seeing the single nod of his foster daughter’s head, Ennis continued, “Well, she’s an enlisted crewman on the Cuffe now.”
Shaking her head, Jaxa declared, “I don’t think I’m ready to deal with Hajar right now. What are my other options?”
“Captain Picard told us that he’d love to have you back with him.” Elise said with a grin. “He’s taking command of the Enterprise-E, one of the new Sovereigns. Except for Commander Worf, just about all of the rest of his senior staff is going there with him, and Councilor Troi would be there in case…”
“No.” The young Bajoran flatly stated, the harsh glare returning to her eyes, “I don’t want to serve on the Enterprise—especially if Captain Picard is in command.”
“You could…” Lamar said hesitatingly, not sure if he should make the offer, “…if you want to…come with us to the Yorktown. Captain Thomas told us that you’d be welcome aboard and we’d love to have you with us.”
“Thank you, Dad…Mom…” Jaxa answered back, tears rolling down her cheeks, “I really mean that. But, I need to…I have to…do this on my own. You understand?”
“Of course we do, Sweetie!” Elise responded as both foster parents hugged their adopted daughter. Reluctantly breaking from their embrace, Lieutenant Commander Foster told her daughter, “There is another option—Captain Shelby wanted us to let you know that she’d still like to have you on board the Sutherland. Lieutenant Lavelle is there as is Ensign Django and the others. You’d be surrounded by friends, but…” She hesitated for a moment before continuing, “…you know Captain Shelby is something of a…picturesque…figure and the Sutherland has a rather controversial reputation with the rest of the Fleet. Are you sure you want to serve there?”
“Mom…” Lieutenant Sito declared shaking her head as her lips turned up into a grim smile, “You know as well as I do that with my record I’m never going to make higher than full lieutenant…maybe lieutenant commander…at best. I’ve got way too much baggage what with the business at the Academy and…” She shuddered momentarily, “…everything else. It’d be a miracle for me to ever get that third solid pip and as for making captain…” She laughed bitterly, “There’s no way in the hells that’s ever going to happen.”
Reluctantly acknowledging the truth behind their foster daughter’s words, the Starfleet couple looked fondly on their young Bajoran ward. “So…I guess you’re going on the Sutherland…” Lamar remarked with a lopsided grin.
“Yeah.” Sito responded, returning her father’s grin, “I guess I am.”
*********************************************************************
Molari Badlands: January 6, 2373
“Daimon Golb, I’m sure you know the drill…” Commander McBride, stepping off the Ferengi freighter’s transporter pad, stated in a flat tone as he gazed down on the corpulent Ferengi captain standing before him and his boarding party. “Your manifest and papers, please.”
“Of course…of course…” The daimon replied unctuously. “I’m sure you’ll find everything in order…” He wheedled as he escorted the commander off the pad. “I’ve got some tulaberry wine from the Gamma Quadrant—hard to get now! Come…try a glass…”
“Maybe later…” Dale politely demurred, “…after we’ve completed your inspection.” Turning to Chief Brin and his crew, the Bluefin’s XO directed, “Solly…take your people and begin your examination of the cargo holds.” Turning his attention back to the Ferengi merchant as the chief led his people out of the transporter room, McBride plastered on a polite grin, “Now, Daimon…as to your papers…”
“Right…” The Ferengi replied, still maintaining an eager to please tone, “Right this way…”
As the first officer and daimon strode on to the freighter’s bridge, the daimon called out, “Lem! Where is that manifest I told you to have ready?”
“Right here, Daimon Golb!” A diminutive Ferengi bearing a padd in his hands scurried up to his employer, “Here it is.”
“Don’t give it to me, you lobeless idiot!” The daimon swore, cuffing the unfortunate wretch cringing before him, “Give it to him!” He ordered, gesturing towards Commander McBride.
“Thank you.” The commander said, making a point of being polite to the cowering figure before him. Examining the information on the padd, Dale muttered, “Name of ship…Venture Profit. Carrying tulaberry wine, springwine, kanar…” Looking up from the padd, the first officer noted, “I see from your flight plan and manifest that you’ve been doing business in Bajoran and Cardassian space…as well as the DMZ…dangerous route…”
“The riskier the road…” Daimon Glob recited.
“The greater the profit. Yeah. I know.” McBride responded, “The sixty second Rule of Acquisition.” Turning his attention back to the padd in his hands, the commander remarked, “Let’s see what else you’ve got…”
***********************************************************************
“Looks like this one’s clean.” Crewman Taggart called out from the cargo pallet he had been inspecting. “Just like what the cargo manifest says—Bajoran springwine. Pulling one of the bottles out of its case, the young crewman jibed, “Never had springwine before. I wonder what it tastes like.”
“Tastes like a week scrubbing the waste reclamation units if you don’t put that bottle back where you found it, Taggart!” Brin yelled back as he closed the lid on the case of tulaberry wine that he’d been inspecting.
“I don’t think there’s anything here, Chief.” Crewman Epstein chimed in, returning from the pallets that he had been assigned to check. “Nothing but kanar…”
“Something’s not right…” The red Orion chief muttered aloud, “Have you ever known a Ferengi trader to ever play it one hundred percent straight? There’s almost always something…” he said as he carefully scanned the cargo hold with his eyes. “Some angle…somewhere…” The wily chief’s lips then turned up in a sly smile as his eyes fell on a faint glint coming from one of the pallets his people had just recently inspected. Holding his hand up, he motioned for Taggart and Epstein to take up positions behind the cover of two of the pallets in such a manner that their weapons field of fire would interlock in an effective kill zone. Approaching the pallet where he saw the glinting object, Solly’s smile grew wider as he recognized it for what it was: a very well hidden holographic emitter concealed in the very base of the pallet. Kneeling down to one side of the emitter, the chief withdrew the large knife he carried sheathed at his hip, striking the emitter with the pommel of the blade, shattering it.
Almost immediately, the section of wall before the emitter dissolved into static before disappearing, revealing an additional cargo area. “Just as I thought.” Solly muttered triumphantly to himself as he tapped his intercom twice.
Immediately recognizing the prearranged signal sent by the Orion CPO, McBride’s hand fell to the butt of his phaser as he spoke to the Ferengi standing before him, “Daimon Golb? Would you like to tell me now what you’re carrying in that hidden cargo space my people just found?” Spotting movement out of the corner of his eye, Dale drew his weapon, pointing it at the Ferengi reaching for the phaser concealed in his jacket. “I wouldn’t…” The Texan warned, “…not unless you want to wake up with a really…really…bad headache.” Watching carefully as the Ferengi slowly held his hands up in the air, Dale grinned, “Much better…now…” He motioned with his phaser, “…in front with everyone else.” Touching his comm badge, the XO spoke, “McBride to Chief Brin…what did you find?”
“Compartment hidden by a holoscreen.” The chief promptly replied, “Sophisticated one too. We nearly missed it.”
“Have you checked out the compartment yet?”
“No…I was about to.” Chief Brin answered back, “Do you want us to hold off?”
“Wait one.” Commander McBride ordered as he looked down on the fat daimon standing quivering before him, “What’s in the compartment, Daimon?” Receiving only sullen silence in return, Dale tapped his comm badge once again, “Chief. The good daimon isn’t being very cooperative. Go ahead and proceed, but exercise extreme caution. I’ll call for the captain to send over Chief Deryx and his team to help out.”
“Yes, Sir,” Solly acknowledged. Taking out his tricorder, the chief scanned the previously hidden compartment, his instrument immediately picking up on the two figures crouching behind a pallet. Touching his comm badge, the Orion whispered, “Brin to Bluefin…requesting high security transport…two lifesigns…one Rutian, the other Bzzit Khaht…presumed hostile approximately twenty meters from my location. Hearing two clicks in response, the chief held his hand up, signaling his crew to wait until he heard the tell tale sound of the Bluefin’s transporters. Moments later, Captain Akinola’s voice came through his comm badge.
“Akinola to Brin. Good work, Chief. We’ve got the Rutian and Bzzit Khaht locked up in the brig and T’Ser’s running a check on them. Did you copy that XO?”
“Yes, Sir.” McBride confirmed, “We’re going to need Chief Deryx and his team to help secure the ship, Captain.”
“They’re on their way, XO.” Captain Akinola quickly responded. Turning to his operations officer, the captain instructed, “Once Commander McBride has completed his inspection, I want you to take charge of the freighter while we take it in tow back to Star Station Echo.”
“Yes, Sir.” The Vulcan woman immediately responded as Lieutenant (jg) Bane quickly relieved her.
Tapping his comm badge, Akinola called out, “Dale? Did you get that?”
“Yes, Captain.” The Texan replied, “Chief Brin should be done with his inspection shortly, what do you want done with the daimon and his crew?”
“Put the daimon and his first officer under arrest and bring them back here.” The captain ordered, “As for the rest of the freighter’s crew…as long as they behave themselves, confinement to quarters should be good enough.”
“Understood, Sir.” Dale affirmed as his comm badge beeped, “This is McBride…go ahead.”
“Sir?” Chief Brin said, his voice barely containing his excitement, “You might want to come down here and take a look at this once Lieutenant T’Ser and the others get here.”
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“Damn.” Commander McBride swore softly as he examined the contents of one of the containers in the hidden storage compartment. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Corillan acid.” T’Ser confirmed, not even bothering trying to hide the disgust in her voice or eyes as she gazed down on the highly illegal hallucinogen. “I can’t believe that damned stuff’s here now.”
“What is it?” Dale asked, curious, as, holding one of the green liquid filled vials up to his eyes, he peered at its contents.
“Nasty stuff.” Chief Brin interjected. “I heard about it through…a relative. It was derived from ris-vil-ouyan…”
“Brain blast.” Dale grimaced.
“Right.” Solly affirmed, “Only this stuff is much…much…worse. Unlike brain blast, it doesn’t boost strength or induce homicidal behavior. It’s a combination hallucinogenic, depressive, euphoric, and aphrodisiac all rolled up into one neat package that’s highly addictive both physically and psychologically.” His voice now a low growl, the red Orion concluded, “From what I’ve been told, one of its uses is to keep slaves in line…especially those working in brothels.”
“Why haven’t I heard of this?” Dale asked, carefully putting the vial back into its case.
“Until recently its use has been pretty much confined to the Bajoran sector.” T’Ser replied, her heart beating just a touch faster as her eyes fell on the handsome face of the Bluefin’s executive officer, “As the Chief said, brothel owners use it to keep their workers in line, but it’s also gotten more popular in the border areas—and its even beginning to show up in the Core Worlds. It’s an easy and potent high.”
“So much for paradise.” Dale remarked, shaking his head in both disgust and disbelief.
“I think paradise…or rather the illusion of it…” T’Ser answered back with a frown, “Went away once and for all with Leyton’s coup.”
“That’s a discussion we can postpone for another time.” McBride declared as he put the lid back on the container. “Lieutenant…” he instructed, fighting the smile that wanted to come to his face as he looked into the lovely Vulcan woman’s eyes, “I want two guards assigned to this compartment 24/7 until Captain Akinola or I say otherwise.”
“Aye, Sir.” T’Ser crisply responded, motioning for two crewmen to immediately assume guard duty at the compartment entrance.
“Chief…” Commander McBride ordered, turning his attention now to the Orion senior chief, “You’re with me. It’s time we introduce Daimon Golb to our brig.”
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Deep Space Five: January 9, 2373
As he gazed at the image of the pretty blonde starship captain on his screen, Admiral Samson Glover smiled warmly, “Morning, Liz…you look like you had a good night’s sleep…” He teased, noticing the heavily lidded eyes of the Sutherland’s captain, not to mention the large mug of coffee placed before her on her desk.
“You know me…” Captain Shelby riposted as she took a sip of the warm brew, “I’m just not a morning person.” The starship captain then asked in a jovial tone that masked her eager alertness, “Is this a social call—or business?”
“Business, I’m afraid.” Samson replied grimly. “Switch to subspace channel “D” and scramble.
Moving quickly to comply, Liz waited as the squiggly lines of static resolved themselves once more into the admiral’s image, “Done, Sir. What’s this about?”
“What I am about to tell you is on a strictly need to know basis, understood?” Taking the blonde captain’s single nod of the head as agreement, Admiral Glover continued, “Remember that plan that you, Ben, and Constable Odo cooked up a little over a year ago after you ran into that Ferengi freighter smuggling weapons?”
“Yeah…” Liz replied, “The Constable told us that a faction of the Kon-Ma, with the probable cooperation of the Orion Syndicate was responsible. Unfortunately…” Captain Shelby grimaced, “…we haven’t been able to find an opening to get our man in.”
“Well, Captain…” The dark-skinned admiral smirked triumphantly, “…you’ve got one now…”
Catching the scent of her prey, Liz licked her lips in anticipation, “…tell me more, Sir.”
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His conversation with the blonde starship captain terminated, Admiral Glover spoke, “Computer, first I want you to connect me with Legate Parma of the Cardassian Ministry of Justice and then I’ll want to speak with Admiral Fenross at Star Station Echo. Both communications are to be priority and scrambled.”
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Star Station Echo: January 10, 2373
“Come in, Captain Akinola, Come in.” Rear Admiral Maurice Fenross, the commanding officer of the Seventh Border Service Squadron, requested, motioning for the captain of the Bluefin to sit down in one of the uncomfortable looking high backed chairs in front of the admiral’s desk. “Fine job you did with that Ferengi freighter, Captain…damned fine job.” The admiral praised in a high pitched, condescending English accent that the no-nonsense former chief petty officer seated before him found both irritating and ridiculous. “You made a big catch—besides the contraband…” Wincing inwardly at his superior’s reference to the highly addictive and destructive Corillan acid as mere ‘contraband’, Akinola almost missed the rest of the pompous admiral’s patronizing remarks, his ears pricking up again as the topic turned to the two undocumented passengers on the freighter, “…belong to a cell that Starfleet is particularly interested in busting up.”
“I assume they’re being sent on to Pacifica for trial?” Akinola queried.
“No…” Fenross shook his head, “The Cardassian government has requested their extradition. So…as per the treaty recently signed between our two governments, you are to take them to Deep Space Nine where you will turn them over to station security there pending their eventual transfer to Cardassian custody.”
“But Sir…” Akinola protested, “They were caught in Federation space carrying highly illegal—and dangerous—narcotics. We should have first crack at them.”
“Not this time, old boy.” Fenross interrupted, cutting his subordinate’s next words off, “Admiral Glover also has some additional orders…” The arrogant admiral’s expression now taking on what seemed to be an almost sympathetic look, Fenross continued as he handed a padd displaying the words ‘Confidential: Need to Know’ to the captain, “…and I can assure you that you will not like these orders.”
Shaking his head in astonishment as he discovered that, in order to open the orders, he had to not only give his thumb print, but also submit to a retinal scan and voice analysis, the dark-skinned captain of the Bluefin read the text displayed on the padd. As he read, Akinola’s teeth clenched as he contained his growing rage, “You’re right, Sir.” The outraged captain growled, "I don’t like these orders. I want to know why my Chief of the Boat is being transferred to Deep Space Five!”
“Sorry, old boy…” Fenross replied; his voice genuinely apologetic, “Need to know, you understand…”
“No, I don’t!” Joseph countered, “I need more than that.”
“No, you don’t.” Fenross replied, now taking on a stern gaze as he addressed his border skipper, “These are legal orders issued by a superior officer and you will either carry them out or I will find someone else who will.” His expression softening, the normally haughty admiral added in an almost conciliatory tone, “If it’s any consolation to you, old boy, I wasn’t told the reason for your chief’s transfer either—and yes, Captain, I did ask, and received the same answer I just gave you. It’s just a temporary transfer, Joseph…he’ll return when he’s completed whatever task Admiral Glover has set for him.”
Noting the rare use of his first name by the normally punctiliously correct Fenross, Akinola nodded his head sullenly, “I’ll inform Chief Brin of his change in status. When is he to report to DS 5?”
“Admiral Glover has sent a runabout for him.” Fenross replied, “It should arrive within the next day or two. He’ll have that long to get his affairs in order and for you to say your goodbyes.” Looking up from his desk, the admiral concluded their meeting, “Unless you have something else, Captain…”
“No, Sir.” Akinola answered back as he got up out of his chair.
“Very good, then.” Fenross stated formally, “You are dismissed.”
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USS Sutherland: January 10, 2373
“Come in, Manuele…” Captain Shelby invited as she gestured at a chair across from the mahogany desk behind which she sat, “Have a seat.” Watching with a grave expression as her Tactical Officer sat down in the comfortable leather chair, the petite captain steepled her fingers, “Admiral Glover has finally green lighted our operation—you’re a go.”
“When?” The New Kauaian security officer asked, his ears pricking up in anticipation of the hunt.
“We set things in motion as soon as you walk out that door.” Shelby replied, jerking her head towards her ready room door. “This just came in…” the captain said as she handed Manuele a padd. “Two members of a Maquis cell were picked off of a Ferengi freighter by a border cutter…the Bluefin…out in the Molari Badlands, along with a cargo of Corillan acid.” Her tactical officer’s eyebrows rising at the mention of the dangerous narcotic, Shelby nodded her head, “I had the same reaction when I found out. Looks like our old friend Gul Rejak and the Orions are at it again along with the Maquis and Kon-Ma. The big question here is: Are they working together or is this just a confluence of forces. In any event…” She said as she glanced down at her padd, “The Bluefin is being ordered to deliver their prisoners to Deep Space Nine—the reason being given is that the Cardassians are insisting on their extradition.”
“Are they?” Atoa asked as he leaned forward in his chair.
“Yes.” Liz answered. “The Cardassians were informed of their capture and they’ve begun the extradition process. Their names are…” Glancing down at her padd, she read aloud, “…a Bzzit Khaht named Nura and a Rutian named Larkin.”
“Any details on them?” Manuele inquired.
“Yeah.” Captain Shelby answered as she handed the padd to her tactical officer, “Nura is supposed to be something of a Sierra Hotel pilot and…and this is far more important…according to our intel, Larkin is involved with the leader of this particular cell—Sabrina Diaz…”
On hearing that name, Lieutenant Atoa let out an astonished, “Whoa…”
Cracking a wry grin, Captain Shelby remarked dryly, “I take it you’ve heard of her…”
“Yes, Sir.” Manuele replied, “Captain of the Cuffe until she resigned her commission. I remember Nyota telling me about her and Captain Glover’s…unfortunate…experience with Diaz on Umoth VII.”
“Glover got off lucky.” Shelby grimaced. “She’s smart, quick, and can be very ruthless if she thinks the situation calls for it.”
“Yeah…” Lieutenant Atoa acknowledged, “I read where she backed Glover down by severing the finger of his Cardassian liaison.”
“She would have severed a lot more than his fingers.” Shelby flatly declared as she fixed her tactical officer in her gaze, “Make no mistake, Mr. Atoa, Sabrina Diaz is one dangerous bitch. She’ll be watching your every step and if you slip up even just a little bit and she catches you…while she probably won’t kill you unless you give her no other choice, she’ll make sure that you—and we—pay a very stiff price to get you back. So, Manuele…” Liz said as she gave her security officer an appraising look, “…this is your last chance, if you want to back out, tell me now.”
“What’s the mission brief, Sir?” Manuele asked; his eyes not wavering from his captain’s as she detailed her plan.
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