Sutherland: Rocks and Shoals Part 10
“Since we’re now one big happy dysfunctional family…” Pierson quipped as his eyes took in the glowering faces of Sabrina Diaz’s Maquis group, “I can tell you what my plan is. We’re going to need two teams: one to squeeze Cherenkov to find out what he knows and the second to do the same with Tabor. So…who goes with me to pay our friend Dmitri a visit?” Smirking, the defrocked Starfleet officer pointed first to the red Orion standing nearby, “Let’s see I’ll take Chief Brin, Dak, and…”
“Me.” Krakke spoke up.
“Why?” Pierson asked, giving the man an appraising look.
“Because my price for cooperating with you is that one of my people goes along with you.” Sabrina interjected. “I see no problem with Danyor coming along with your group—do you?”
“No.” Pierson grinned, “Now…who’s going to pay Tabor a visit.”
“Me.” Manuele announced immediately.
“Ok…” The roguish ex-bar owner replied, nodding his head, “Makes sense…we have one ‘Fleeter on each team. So Bri…” Pierson jibed, the smug grin remaining on his face, “Who’re you going to pick to keep an eye on our friend here?”
“I’ll go.” Nura declared, sparing a withering glare for the New Kauaian.
“Fine.” Sabrina replied, nodding her head in assent. “Who are you sending, Lynn?”
“S’nurl.” The rogue answered back immediately. Turning to Atoa, he whispered as his eyes drifted momentarily in the direction of the now sullen Bzzit Khaht, “You might not think it, but I’m doing you a favor. It can be awful handy having a big Gorn with a big gun and bigger knife watching your back.”
“All right.” Diaz declared, “Both teams will leave as soon as possible—and I don’t expect either team to come back until you’ve got something solid.”
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“Everything is ready from our end.” Dmitri Cherenkov stated to the Cardassian gul seated across from him as he sipped his vodka. “Tabor’s people will pick up the shipment of Corillan acid and pay us. Once the account is posted in our Ferengi bank account, we’ll deliver the arms.”
“What about Ayenga?” Gul Rejak inquired as he swirled the kanar in his glass. “I still don’t trust her.”
“Nor do I.” The Syndicate representative concurred. “As we’ve already discussed, while Tabor is a realist, Ayenga is an idealist and a fanatic—a dangerous combination. And now…to make matters worse…she’s obtained a quantity of mutagenic gel. We’ll need to ensure that she is no longer a threat. And then there’s the matter of Diaz…”
A sly grin appearing on his face, the corrupt gul declared in a confident voice, “Leave that to me. I think I know how to simultaneously deal with both of our problems.
“Very well.” Cherenkov agreed as he downed the last of his vodka, “I’ll leave that to your capable hands.” Standing up, the Terra Nova native regarded his business partner with a calculated grin as he offered him his hand, “I’ll see you on Taris III in a few days. If something should come up, I’ll be on Elatra IV.”
Standing up as well, Gul Rejak flashed an equally insincere smile at his associate as he took his hand, “Relax, Dmitri. Soon, we’ll both have what we want. Just relax and enjoy the gift I’ve left for you in your quarters.” Exiting the lounge, Rejak said his farewells, “Until next week.”
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“I figured something like this would happen.” Morgan Bateson said as he shook his head. “Those are two of the most stubborn, pig-headed people I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”
“The problem is—it’s like they’re going out of their way to get under each other’s skin.” Denise Murakawa sighed as she spoke to the image of her long-distance romance on the computer screen in her office. Shaking her head, she remarked with a crooked grin, “They remind me more of battling relatives than two starship captains.”
Bateson answered back, a serious note to his voice beneath the surface joviality, “You’re not too far off the mark, Denise.”
Her laughter vanishing as well, the Japanese-Centauran doctor pleaded, “Tell me all about it, Morgan.”
Sighing as he regarded the image of the beautiful woman on his monitor, Morgan nodded his head, “All right…but get comfortable. This is going to take a while.”
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“Welcome to Elatra IV—the Urinal of the Universe.” Pierson grinned as the two other members of his team, Solly Brin and Danyor Krakke, entered the tiny motel room that the defrocked Starfleet officer had rented. “Don’t worry…” the dark haired rogue added as his guests took their seats on a worn couch, “…Dak and I have swept the area for bugs or sensors—it’s as clean as a two hundred slip an hour hooker’s behind.”
“From what I know of some of the two hundred slip an hour hookers I’ve seen …” Senior Chief Brin snorted, “…that’s not saying much.” His grin vanishing, the red Orion, now all business, inquired, “So…when do we make our move?”
“Soon.” Pierson flatly replied, “Very soon. My sources tell me that Cherenkov has just gotten back from a meeting with Gul Rejak. We’ll give him a day or so to get comfortable—and then we’ll grab him. We’ll get to work tomorrow.” The dispossessed bar owner quipped as he poured an amber colored liquid from a decanter into four glasses, “For now though, we might as well just sit back and relax.”
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“Nura…” Manuele declared as he turned his head towards the Bzzit Khaht woman seated in the copilot’s seat next to him, “…whatever you might think—I didn’t betray you.”
Shaking her head, the Maquis snorted, “And what were you going to do? Give Sabrina the Starfleet Medal of Valor?”
“Do you know what that stuff does to a person?” Atoa answered back, shaking his head somberly. “Once you’ve seen someone hooked on Corillan acid…seen them turned into a shell…or worse…of what they once were…”
“I’m not interested.” Nura rejoined, her eyes narrowed into slits, “All I know is that Sabrina would never have done anything like that and…”
“And you and Larkin were found on a ship smuggling that stuff into the Federation.” Atoa interjected, pressing his case. “What would you think if you were in Starfleet’s position?” Taking a more conciliatory posture, Manuele urged, “Why don’t you take a moment and look at things from a broader perspective. There’s a lot more going on here than just the Maquis and their cause…”
“I don’t care about the other stuff!” Nura fired back as she got up out of her seat, “All I care about is kicking the devil-spawn Cardassians off my home. Anyone—and anything—that helps in accomplishing that—I’m with. Anything…or anyone…” she declared, her voice dropping lower and considerably chillier, “…trying to prevent that…is my enemy.”
Watching as the young Bzzit Khaht strode angrily to the back of the runabout, Manuele shook his head as the large Gorn, S’nurl, who had been quietly listening to the conversation remarked in a low, raspy tone, “Be careful, Ssssstarfleet. You are her enemy.”
Sighing, Manuele answered back, “No, S’nurl. She’s just upset and angry right now. Once she’s thought things through, she’ll calm down.”
Shaking his head, the Gorn bouncer rasped, “You are wrong, human. She thinks you have betrayed her and those she loves. She will neither forgive nor forget.” Eyeing the Bzzit Khaht as she picked up a drink from the replicator in the back, S’nurl left the security officer with one final piece of advice, “My people have a saying: A female is most dangerous when she thinks her nest is being threatened.”
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Filling Chief Brin’s glass with more of the amber liquor, Pierson asked, half jokingly, as the other two members of their group made their way back to their beds, “So Solly…you ever think about leaving the service? I could use a man like you. Pay’s good…hours not too bad…and…” he winked, “…you’ve already sampled some of the fringe benefits.”
“I don’t think so.” The red Orion replied as he downed the fiery liquid in one gulp. “I like it where I am just fine.”
“Oh well…” Pierson grinned, shrugging his shoulders, “…I had to try.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…” Solly ventured as he refilled both glasses, “Why did you desert? You were first officer on the Devonshire. From what I’ve read about you in your file, you’d have had your fourth pip by now if you’d have stayed in.” His exposed canines giving his toothy grin a frightening appearance to someone unfamiliar to the red Orion, the chief continued, “Was it because of what happened on Allios II?”
“What do you know about Allios II?” Pierson replied guardedly, his eyes narrowing into slits as he sipped his drink.
“Only what was in your dossier,” Solly answered back. “Allios II was a colony in the disputed zone. Your ship answered a distress call from the colony…”
“And when we arrived we found they’d been massacred.” The former Starfleet officer interrupted, “Every man, woman, and child. I led the landing party. The Cardassians killed them all…”
“There was no proof…” Solly began only to be cut off by an angry Pierson.
“It was the damned Cardies! You’re no fool Chief—you know it had to be them.” Exhaling, Chief Brin, now just sipping his drink, stayed silent as the man sitting next to him at the bar continued his tale. “It was so efficient…they were all lined up facing the wall. All of the colonists were accounted for. You know as well as I do, Solly, that if it were Orions or Ferengi slavers they’d have at least taken the younger women and children. But they didn’t…they killed them all.”
“And then what happened?” Solly asked in a quiet voice.
“And then nothing.” Pierson replied in a grim tone. “Starfleet did absolutely nothing. It was completely covered up. You see…the Federation and the Cardassians were just about to close the deal on the demilitarized zone and the diplos on both sides didn’t want something as ugly as a massacre queering their peace treaty. So it was all hushed up and ‘unknown pirates’ got the blame. A few months later, the Cardies even executed a few Ferengi ‘pirates’ who ‘confessed’ to carrying out the massacre—Cardassian justice at its finest. Anyway…” Lynn sighed, “…a few days later, someone claiming to be from ‘Starfleet Intelligence’—let’s just say that I have my suspicions as to who he really works for and leave it at that—came by and made it very clear to the captain and the rest of the senior officers and those on the landing party what would happen should the truth slip out. After that and the little demonstration the Cardies put on, the ex and I decided we’d had enough and took off and I haven’t looked back since.”
“So…” Solly probed further, “What made you leave the Maquis and go into the bar, pimping, and smuggling business?”
“That…my friend…” Pierson chuckled as he downed the last of his drink, “Is a story for another time.” Getting up and stretching, the human yawned, “For now, though, I think I’m going to turn in. I’d suggest you do the same. The next few days are going to be busy.”
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“So…” Nura asked, with just the faintest traces of a sneer, “How do you plan on us getting into Tabor’s base?”
Shrugging his shoulders, Manuele grinned, “I figured I’d just go up to the front door and announce ourselves.”
“You’re joking!” A dumbfounded Nura exclaimed, and then shaking her head when she saw that the man sitting next to her was serious, whispered as the large Gorn standing in the back flashed a predatory grin, “You’re not joking. You’re serious.”
“Of course.” Atoa answered back, this time with a straight face. “As far as Tabor’s concerned, we’re after Ayenga—not him. And he’ll continue to think that way—unless we give him reason not to.” Looking the Bzzit Khaht straight in the eyes, Manuele declared in a grave tone, “If you really want to get back at me, Nura, this’ll be your chance. You won’t have to worry about wasting your time scheming or backstabbing—you can do it to my face. Or…you can wait and see if I’m telling you the truth or not. It’s your call.” With that, the New Kauaian turned away from his leathery skinned companion and turned his attention back to the runabout’s controls. “We should be there in about half an hour.”
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Entering the Station gym with Chief Deryx, Ensign Bralus, and the rest of his Shodokan class, all wearing ghis, Captain Joseph Akinola, also wearing a ghi, tied with a black belt, paused at the doorway, his eyebrows raised in both curiosity and interest as he saw a Bajoran woman and the Klingon Starfleet officer, Lieutenant Commander Worf engaged in a fast and furious martial arts contest.
“Captain?”
Turning his head towards the Trill science officer calling out to him, Joseph quickly recalled her from their brief meeting in the Station’s operations center a few days ago. “Lieutenant Commander Dax?” The Bluefin skipper responded as he kept his eye on the contest.
“Yes, Sir.” The raven haired beauty affirmed, her smile immediately lighting up the room.
“Mok’bara?” Joseph inquired curiously, nodding his head in approval as the Bajoran skillfully blocked the Klingon warrior’s slashing attack, turning the force of her opponent’s attack against him.
“Yes.” The Trill responded with obvious pride in her voice. “Worf is a pln’a of the first order.”
Nodding his head in appreciation at the dedication and skill it took to reach such a high rank, Akinola remarked approvingly, “He’s definitely a practitioner of the raised claw school while his opponent seems to prefer the spear thrust technique.” Turning towards his class, the wizened skipper pointed out, “I want you people to watch closely. While possessing some similarities, Mok’bara isn’t quite like Shodokan. Mok’bara movements are faster…rougher.”
“Not a bad comparison.” Dax observed before apologizing, “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t know our time had expired.”
Before she could call out to her friends, Joseph quickly interjected, shaking his head. “No…that’s all right. Actually we’re a little early.” Regarding the two contestants with a practiced eye, the martial arts master remarked, “They’re going at it pretty hard—even for Mok’bara,”
“Yeah.” Chief Deryx chimed in, “If he’d been just a bit slower or clumsier in his move…”
“I know.” Jadzia responded, a note of worry in her voice. “But Worf insists that this is the best way for Jaxa to learn to control her anger…”
Wincing as the Bajoran woman connected with a glancing blow that would have felled an ordinary human, Joseph rejoined with a note of concern in his own voice, “Perhaps…provided she doesn’t kill someone first.”
Regaining control as her fist glanced off her sparring partner’s side, Lieutenant Sito stepped back, assuming the waiting stance as did her opponent. Recognizing his par’Machai, waving to him from near the doorway, Worf bowed ritualistically to his opponent, declaring, “I think it is best that we end this session. Others desire to use the gym.”
“Aye, Sir.” Sito responded, bowing as well. As she straightened up, she apologized, her voice taking on a despondent tone, “I’m sorry, Sir. I did it again.”
“What do you apologize for?” The burly Klingon replied as he draped a towel around his shoulders. “Hitting me—or losing control?”
“Both…Sir…” Lieutenant Sito responded, somewhat sheepishly as she walked beside her former supervisor towards the exit.
“You have nothing to apologize for in hitting me. It is I who am at fault for not guarding myself properly.” The Klingon warrior declared before sagely adding, “Losing control, however…that is another matter. I accept your apology for that. Remember always, a true warrior fights not only with her body and heart, but with her mind as well.”
Nodding his head approvingly as he heard the Klingon’s last words, Joseph almost missed the Trill woman’s introductions.
“Worf? You remember Captain Akinola, don’t you?”
“Of course, Sir.” The lieutenant commander greeted, nodding his head respectfully, Jaxa doing likewise. “This is Lieutenant Sito Jaxa from the Sutherland.”
“Commander.” Joseph nodded back in return. “Lieutenant. You both exhibited fine technique.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Both officers responded in unison, the wise border skipper at once noticing the Bajoran woman’s body language—how she subconsciously kept a distance between her and all of the men in the room—even her Klingon friend.
“This is a Shodokan class I lead on the Bluefin. You’re welcome to sit in if you’d like?” Joseph invited, smiling as he spotted the gleam in the Klingon’s eyes.
“I’m sorry…” Lieutenant Sito replied, “But I have duty in half an hour.”
“And I…” Dax responded with a mischievous smirk, “Have a date with Captain Shelby and Lieutenant Rysyl in one of Quark’s holosuites.” Reaching up on tiptoes to give her lover a peck on the cheek, Dax smiled as she turned to leave, “You go ahead and play with the boys, Worf—I’ll make your excuses to Liz…”
“Thank you.” The big Klingon responded, almost bashfully, his voice also tinged with relief. “Much as I love you, par’Machai, I was not looking forward to spending the afternoon in a mud bath.”
Watching as the lovely Trill walked away laughing alongside Lieutenant Sito, Joseph commented with a grin, “A mud bath?”
“Yes.” The Klingon responded in a rumbling tone that was part growl and part laugh, “A mud bath.”
“Well…” Joseph laughed, “At least there’s no mud here.”
“Good.” Worf responded in a deadpan manner. “I hate mud.”
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Terrence and Shelby get along pretty well with each other; and I actually see Shelby and Sandhurst getting along as she respects someone who can think fast in a crisis and come up with innovative solutions. As for Astar and Shelby--I have some ideas on that, but I want to run them through Xeris first. 
Now I'm stuck because I have to wait for the next installment.
