Shadow Operations: Resurrection
Season 1 Episode 1
Resurrection
Nov. 4, 2018

The lights on the bridge of the USS Fearless were dim as the ship sliced silently through the vacuum of the Kazis system under cloak, using impulse engines only. The Sovereign-class vessel was on course for the ninth planet in the system, located in a region of Federation space precariously close to both the Romulan and Klingon borders.

The proximity of this place to two major galactic powers, both known to have a volatile past with one another, and with the Federation, made it the ideal place for the three governments to convene a conference for its representatives to talk about improving relations. An outpost on Kazis IX had been converted by the Federation to serve as a conference center and 37 representatives of each power had been meeting for the past six days.

That was when everything had suddenly fallen apart.

The bridge crew of Fearless was silent as they listened to comm-chatter piped in across the intercom system, the various participants in the transmissions acting out an unfolding scenario. The crew carried out its tasks saying nothing, allowing the captain to hear what was happening over the hailing frequency.

Seated in the captain’s chair, taking in every bit of the conversation, was Captain Ian Connor MacLeod. The stalwart commanding officer of the Fearless absorbed every bit of the back and forth communications between the team he had in the field on a mission to undo the situation on Kazis IX. Approximately 43 hours earlier, a group of terrorists penetrated the tight security at the conference site and had killed a number of representatives before taking the survivors hostage. The Klingons and Romulans were massing forces on their sides of the border, as Starfleet also gathered a fleet nearby. All three sides were ready to pounce on the terrorists, each ready to end the standoff and exact revenge on them for their vicious attack. It was a situation that could easily blow up into something far greater and deadlier.

That was where Shadow Operations came into the picture.

MacLeod had brought Fearless to Kazis to assist the USS Repulse in launching a commando operation to stop the terrorists and free the hostages. Repulse was under the command of Commander Jack Dark, one of the original Shadow Operations agents. More recently Dark had been in charge of intelligence for SO, but for this mission MacLeod had hastily pulled together a team and he couldn’t be too choosey. On the bridge of Fearless, monitoring of Jack Dark’s team on Kazis IX played on, the feed of comm-traffic between Dark and his operatives crackling across the bridge speakers.

...Section 4 contained. Eight enemy KIAs. We have the hostages...there are 21 total, came the voice of Commander Taryn Kane.

...Repulse team, regroup in Section 4. Prepare for transport, Jack Dark instructed his team. MacLeod opened a hailing frequency, Repulse 1, who are the survivors?

...Twelve Federation council representatives, eight Romulans and one Klingon, Dark replied.

...Only one Klingon? the voice of Lt. Commander Sontag, on the surface of Kazis IX, crackled across the speaker.

...Death was more honorable than capture, Dark responded.

MacLeod listened and considered their options. Repulse was cloaked and poised to extract the team. Fearless would act as backup, ready to deal with any enemy ships that may be lurking about. Problem was, there were no other ships in the system. This made MacLeod question just how the terrorist force had gotten there and how they were getting out. He expected they had something hidden, nearby, ready to strike the minute one of the two Shadow Operations ship’s decloaked.

Tactical? MacLeod called.

Lt. Jason Savage at the tactical station looked over his screens. All quiet, nothing out there.

Nothing we can bloody see, MacLeod grumbled. Stay ready to decloak and raise shields.

Under his breath he muttered, Dammit Dark, get it done.

On the surface, Jack Dark and Commander Taryn Kane stood watch over the 21 survivors of the hostage situation Repulse’s team had just defused. They were assembled in a conference room while scattered on the floor around them were seven dead humans—all in unmarked military gear—gunned down in the firefight to free to hostages.

Dark was solemn. He knew there had been causalities. Not only among the hostages, but from his team. This mission had been slapped together on the fly, with all the other Shadow Ops teams deployed on other assignments, MacLeod had asked him to lead a group—half of them untested—to rescue these diplomats.

These missions. The constant task of deploying teams into hot-zones, it was getting to Jack. He had spent a year away from all this, on sabbatical, learning more about the telekinetic powers he possessed and looking for answers to his questions about his life and why he’d chosen this type of work.

He was good at it, no doubt. But Jack was no longer sure he could continue to see teammates die, or to fight for the wrong causes or to go on looking at everyone as an enemy. Even now, during a time of relative peace, the power brokers were making up reasons to fight.

Retirement was starting to become a real option for Jack Dark. If he could just convince Taryn to retire with him, he was ready to start a new life—one far from the war and the treachery of this business. He wanted peace, that was all, and it would take going far away, perhaps back to the temples of the distant world Sastarus IV, where he learned more about his TK abilities, or Betazed where he worked on obtaining better control over his powers.

Anywhere, as long as he was away from all this death.

Back from sweeping the perimeter was the rest of the team, led by the Vulcan, Lt. Commander Sontag. With him was Lt. Taylor Vermang, Lt. Daelin and Ensign Michael Falco. They brought with them two team members killed in the battle, Lt. Commander Antonio Ramirez and Ensign Talia Ward. Dark looked to the arriving team and grimaced when he saw the two dead officers. How many hostiles did you encounter?

Sontag, a greenish smear of blood across his face from a gash in his cheek, shook his head, Twelve to fourteen. All heavily armed. Well trained. These were not a gang of thugs.

Jack nodded, Agreed. Let’s get out of here, before any more of these terrorists turn up.

A man from among the rescued hostages stood up and approached Dark. He was in his 40s, tall, with charismatic good looks, salt-and-pepper hair and he wore a suit. The Shadow Ops team leader accepted a hand-shake and looked to the man to see what he wanted.

I’m Aaron Gant, of the Federation Council. I’m one of the Earth representatives, he said. We wanted to thank you for...

There will be time for this later, Dark muttered. He then paused a moment, Gant? You’re the rising star on the Federation Council, I’ve heard of you.

Gant offered a humble smile, I wouldn’t go that far. I do what I can on the council. I just want to see that the foundation the Federation was built on continues to be upheld.

Dark nodded, That’s great. Now if you’ll excuse us, we need to get you all out of here.

Of course, Gant said, stepping back.

Repulse ready to transport, Kane said.

Like clockwork, around them eight men materialized. All of them like the other terrorists, armed heavily and wearing black armor. Dark saw them beam in as he and his own team began their transport out. They must have come from a cloaked ship orbiting the planet. The gunmen trained weapons and fired as the Repulse’s team transported out with the 21 hostages.

On Repulse, the group beamed into the cargo bay where the only transporter large enough to transport 28 people was located. But as each pattern formed, it became apparent not everyone had survived the last ditch attack.

Sontag, Vermang and three of the hostages slumped to the deck, each struck by phaser blast just seconds before transport. Jack looked around at the dropping bodies and he cursed, moving to the nearest fallen comrade, Lt. Commander Sontag.

Sontag! he cried out, lifting his friend’s head. No! It was obvious as he looked at the Vulcan his wound was fatal. Sontag had been killed instantly.

Vermang’s dead too, Kane said from nearby, kneeling over the body.

Gant looked knelt to see the condition of the hostages shot while transporting out and he shook his head. They’re dead!

Jack got to his feet and ran out the cargo door into the ship, making his way swiftly for the bridge. As he ran, the Repulse was rocked by several blasts striking the hall. Something was attacking them, probably hitting them as soon as the cloak dropped to engage the transporters.

Aboard Fearless, warning klaxons sounded and Lt. Savage at tactical looked up from his station,

Captain. Three heavily armed cruisers just decloaked near Repulse. They attacked right after Repulse lowered it’s cloak for the extraction.

Klingon or Romulan? MacLeod asked, pulling up data on the armrest console beside him.

Neither, Savage replied. Two are Nausicaan design, the third is Ferengi. All three appear to be unmarked and equipped with weaponry not commonly used for their class.

MacLeod’s brow furrowed, Not to mention cloaking devices. They’re bloody mercenary ships.

Mercenary or terrorist, Savage corrected. They’ve located the Repulse and are opening fire.

The battle appeared onscreen and the three enemy ships appeared pummeling Repulse with phaser fire, knocking out the ship’s cloak and slamming her ablative armor hull.

Intercept course, Mr. Lo-ree, the captain ordered his helmsman. When we’re are in firing range, lock on all three ships. Drop the cloak, raise shields and open fire.

Savage complied at tactical and within seconds, Fearless had decloaked and entered the fray. She pounded the trio of terrorist ships with salvo of phaser fire, followed by quantum torpedoes. The surprise attack by Fearless damaged two of the ships and forced two to break off pursuit of Repulse and turn their guns on MacLeod’s ship.

The undamaged enemy ship, a Nausicaan attack cruiser, opened fire on Fearless, hammering the ship’s shield with intense phaser fire. Meanwhile, one of the other ships, a Ferengi vessel, continued its pursuit of the Repulse.

Having caught Repulse with her shields down, the brutal terrorist strike had left the ship badly damaged. She limped away, trying to evade the Ferengi ship returning fire with everything it had left. Repulse is badly damaged? MacLeod asked.

Savage nodded, All three ships hit Repulse when her shields dropped for the extraction. They knew right where to hit her.

Bloody hell, MacLeod hissed. Fearless was rocked by phaser fire, but returned it, blasting the attacking ships.

Incoming transmission from Repulse, Savage reported from his station.

On screen, MacLeod said.

The screen focused in on the smoke filled bridge of the Repulse. Jack Dark sat in the captain’s chair, still wearing his armor from the away mission on Kazis. Sparks flew from instruments around the bridge as Jack and his crew fought to return fire.

Nice work Mr. Dark, MacLeod said. As soon as we can dispense with these Nausicaan cruisers, we’ll be able to turn our guns on the Ferengi Marauder.

No time, captain, Dark responded. They caught us with our pants down. They hit us hard in that opening volley. The ship is badly damaged. Our warp core is unstable.

MacLeod frowned, If we can take down both these ships, we can drop shields and beam you all off Repulse.

Dark looked at MacLeod and shook his head, We lost most of the team. Three more hostages are dead. We’re running out of time fast.

MacLeod was about to respond, when the Marauder hit Repulse again. Plasma coolant sprayed across the Repulse’s bridge and more sparks arched from destroyed stations. The viewscreen flickered and then reverted back to the scene outside as the Nausicaan ship was bearing down on Fearless once more. Another explosion rocked the Fearless and the bridge crew steadied themselves.

Hit, aft shields at 65 percent, said Savage.

Return fire, full spread of torpedoes, MacLeod ordered. MacLeod to engineering. Lt. Malone, how long would we have to drop shields to beam the crew and passengers off Repulse?

Malone responded after a short delay, Twenty-seven seconds.

Nearly half a minute the ship would be exposed to fire, MacLeod’s first officer, Commander Alantris said, her dark Betazoid eyes narrowing. That’s an eternity under fire.

MacLeod knew she was right. They had to take some of the guns out of the equation first. Then they could attempt a rescue of Repulse’s crew. The Scot turned to Savage, Keep firing on that cruiser. I want them out of the action as soon as possible.

Phaser and torpedo fire continued between the cruiser and Fearless, each ship dealing the other brutal damage. As they fought, Repulse continued to tangle with the Marauder until finally, Dark’s ship was dead in space, her warp core nearly critical.

Seeing Repulse close to being destroyed, MacLeod ordered the Fearless to attack the Nausicaan ship head on. She came at the cruiser and unleashed her remaining firepower on the ship, tearing it in half and causing the vessel to explode in a burst of debris. The Fearless soared past the wreckage of the enemy ship and came at the Marauder, phasers firing as she approached. Seeing the Fearless still in a formidable state, the Ferengi ship veered off her pursuit of Repulse and cloaked.

The remaining Nausicaan ship also moved out of firing range and went to regroup with the Marauder. Both ships were circling Fearless and Repulse, like vultures flying around their prey, waiting for the right moment to strike.

They are still out there, Alantris warned. We could drop our shields and beam Repulse’s crew out, but we would be vulnerable.

MacLeod nodded, I know. For 27 seconds. It’s a risk we’ll have to take. Move us in close to Repulse.

Over on Repulse, the situation was grim. The last hit had caused a hull breach in engineering and the crew there was lost. The growing core overload was now unchecked and the bridge was unable to eject the core. Repulse was going to explode in just a matter of minutes.

Worse news came to Jack Dark on the smashed bridge of Repulse. When engineering was hit, Commander Kane had just arrived there to assess the situation with the core. Dark furiously hailed the engineering compartment trying to learn the fate of his first officer and lover, only to receive the terrible news from a crewman who had gotten out just before the hull breached.

She...she’s gone, commander, the crewman replied over the comm. The entire engineering staff are all dead.

Dark, sitting in his chair on the bridge, looked around with tear-filled eyes at the destroyed bridge, a look of utter shock and despair on his face. They weren’t going to make it. Not unless there was a way to beam them all off the ship.

Evacuate everyone to the cargo bay, Jack ordered. We’ll use the cargo transporter to beam everyone out.

The bridge crew sounded the order and evacuated the bridge, leaving Jack there alone. He closed his eyes, collected his thoughts, and then looked up to find a working console somewhere on the smoke-filled bridge.

He made his way to a functioning console and formed an interface device with his right hand, using the nanites inside him and controlling them with his telekinetic ability. He inserted the interface into the console and began to access every functional system in the ship he could access.

Finding what he wanted, Dark opened a channel to Fearless.

As the Fearless approached the visibly battle scarred Repulse, a transmission came from the dying ship. Audio only, Savage reported.

On speakers, McLeod said.

Dark to Fearless, Jack said, his voice weak. ...the bridge is smashed... Commander Kane is...dead...

MacLeod grimaced. He knew Jack and Taryn were a couple. They had been seeing each other for years. When Jack returned about a year ago from studying and improving his telekinetic abilities among other telepathic, telekinetic and empathic races, he told MacLeod being away from Taryn had been the most difficult part of his sabbatical.

He could hear the pain in the man’s voice as he spoke. MacLeod was determined to get everyone off the Repulse before it was destroyed

We’re moving into transporter range. We’re going to attempt to beam everyone off, said Ian, reassuringly.

And leave Fearless open to attack? asked Jack. No, captain, this is what we’re going to do. I’m going to beam everyone off and onto Fearless. I can do it in half the time.

MacLeod’s brow furrowed, And just how are you going to do that? Repulse is going to explode in a matter of minutes. The ship is barely functional.

By routing my nanites into the transporter and I’m boosting it, he said. You drop shields, I initiate transport of the crew and hostages, once aboard you raise shields and get out of here. I can do it in 10 seconds.

You’re a madman! MacLeod scoffed.

Just do it, Ian! Dark snapped. There’s no time. This core is going to blow any minute!

MacLeod sighed and looked around the bridge crew, Move us into transporter range. Get ready to drop shields, on my mark!

The Fearless moved in above Repulse, matching her current speed and closing to transporter range. Once in place, Savage looked over and nodded, We’re ready.

You better be right about this Dark! MacLeod snarled. Or I’m going to kick your bloody ass!

Dark laughed, Sorry, that ass kicking will have to wait, captain. You know I won’t be there to receive it, no matter what the outcome is. Just do me a favor...tell Sorvek and the rest of Starfleet this is their fault. Taryn, Sontag...the others...it’s on them. They should have negotiated. Failure to do so resulted in this debacle. You tell them Ian! Tell them!

The speaker crackled and the transmission ended.

Dammit Dark! MacLeod was flustered. Finally, he relented, Drop shields on my mark....go!

The moment the shields dropped, Dark initiated transport and it was fast. Faster than transporters were meant to function. The hostages and crew of Repulse were all successfully beamed to Fearless, appearing in the cargo hold.

MacLeod ordered the shields back up, just as the two enemy ships closed and opened fire. Much to his surprise, they had shields when the two ships pounded them with phasers, the defenses holding as Fearless took off at full impulse.

At that moment, the Repulse erupted into a mini-nova, her core breaching and the explosion carrying the blast out from the ship and taking out the Marauder and Nausicaan ship at that same moment. The Fearless bridge crew cheered as the ship jumped to warp and left Kazis behind.

As soon as Fearless was underway, MacLeod left the bridge and headed down to the cargo bay where they had received the survivors of the Repulse. On the way down the turbolift, the Scot was pensive, contemplating all that had happened. Jack’s entire Shadow Ops team, with the exception of Daelin and Falco, were dead. That included three veteran SO operators—Dark, Kane and Sontag. It was, for lack of a better term, a total cluster.

MacLeod came out of the lift onto deck 7, where he was greeted by Lt. Daelin, a Tellerite. She snorted and turned to lead the captain toward the cargo bay. Jack didn’t beam out, Daelin grumbled.

I’m aware, said MacLeod as they walked along the corridor. How are the hostages?

What’s left of them...they’re good, Daelin said.

They stepped through the door into the cargo bay and found the survivors sitting around on the floor, being checked out by medical staff. MacLeod looked around at the group and while relieved they had rescued many of them, he was still shocked at the loss of so many. This had not been a smooth operation by any means. They had suffered great losses and had little to show for it.

As MacLeod toured the cargo bay, checking in on the surviving delegates of the conference, a Federation representative stood and approached him, hand extended like a true politician.

Captain, he said. Aaron Gant. On behalf of the hostages we thank you and your crew.

MacLeod nodded, Many lives were lost here, Councilman Gant. We’re going to want to debrief each and every one of you. We need to find out just who did this and why.

Gant nodded, I’ll rally everyone together to meet with your people. Give them some time to receive treatment and collect themselves.

Agreed, MacLeod said. Now, if you’ll excuse me, councilman, I need to speak with the surviving team members who rescued you. We’ll arrange accommodations for all of you.

Thank you again, captain, Gant said. I’m sorry for your losses.

MacLeod turned and left the cargo bay. After all that had just happened, he needed some time himself to collect his thoughts and prepare his report to Starfleet.

ONE YEAR LATER

Stardate 1102.11

Captain Ian MacLeod walked the hallways of Starfleet Command with Admiral Sorvek at his side. The Scot was livid. They had just come from a meeting with the heads of Starfleet Intelligence and the news had not been good.

Shut down! Of all the bloody misguided ideas! MacLeod muttered as he and the Vulcan admiral walked along the headquarters of Starfleet in San Francisco. All we’ve done for the Federation. All these years of service and sacrifice. And they just pull the plug on us.

I know you are human, Ian, but please, try to control your emotions, said Sorvek, his voice calm. We both know the decision was political. There is little we can do about it.

Political! MacLeod scoffed. That bloody, ungrateful shit Gant. Gets elected president of the Federation Council and then shuts us down, the goddamn organization that saved his sorry ass just 14 months ago.

Sorvek stopped, causing MacLeod to halt and turn on his heels to face the Vulcan, I understand your anger, it’s a human reaction. President Gant laid out his reasons. No more clandestine intelligence organizations. After the Section 31 disaster, you have to put yourself in his position, Ian.

Shadow Operations was never like Section 31, MacLeod hissed. There was oversight! We did good things! Good people in the organization died to save lives, Federation lives.

The decision to shut down Shadow Operations was not punishment, MacLeod, Sorvek explained. It was merely a reaction to the last six months of hearings, the exposing and deconstruction of Section 31, the criminal charges brought against 132 Starfleet officers and 16 governmental officials who were a part of Section 31.

They knee-jerked! he growled.

That is a good analogy, Ian, said Sorvek. Nevertheless, Shadow Ops is disbanded. We are to deliver the news to the troops and see to their reassignment. You and I have our own jobs to do.

MacLeod laughed, Hunting down remaining Section 31 cells and bringing them to justice. I’m well aware of our orders. Bloody Section 31.

Sorvek placed a hand on the captain’s shoulder. I will see to the orders to the rest of Shadow Operations. Prepare the Fearless, we will be using it as our command ship in the Section 31 task force we’ve been tasked with creating.

MacLeod sighed and gave a curt nod, Fine. I just want you to know, I believed in your Shadow Ops, admiral. I know it has done great things these past years. I’m proud to have been a part of it.

I too am pleased with the organization’s performance, said Sorvek. But, how is it, as you humans say, all good things must come to an end.

MacLeod nodded, That’s true. I’ll report back when Fearless is ready. I have a stop to make before I beam up.

Sorvek nodded, As you wish, captain. Until we speak again. The Vulcan then headed off, reaching a turbolift which he boarded and disappeared into.

MacLeod then headed to the nearest transporter room and stepped up onto the platform, Federal Penal Settlement, New Zealand, he told the operator.

The transporter operator energized the transporter and beamed MacLeod to New Zealand, where he materialized in a transporter at the penal colony. The captain was greeted by security there who confirmed his identify and the fact he was unarmed. They then escort him to a room where he could meet with a prisoner.

Not long after, as MacLeod was seated at a table, a door to the room opened and an older man was escorted in, wearing heavy restraints—much stronger than his thin form required. The man was brought over and seated at the table across from MacLeod. He glared at the captain, a look of complete disgust on his face as the guards secured him and stepped back.

What do you want? Erik Jaeger asked, a sneer dripping from his mouth. I was enjoying myself working in the rock quarry. It’s great exercise, you know.

Erik, so good to see you adjusting to your new life, MacLeod said cheerfully. I trust you’ve been making new friends here...the kind who you don’t want to drop the soap in the shower with, perhaps.

Jaegar surged forward, prompting the guards to raise their stun batons, but he stopped himself and stared coldly across the table at his former subordinate.

So, did you come here to tell me about the Federation shutting down your precious Shadow Ops? he asked. MacLeod, unable to refrain, gave him a look of disbelief. The disbanding of Shadow Ops was barely an hour old. Oh, don’t look so surprised, Ian. Just because I’m in here doesn’t mean I’m cut off from intelligence.

Jaegar leaned in even closer, And tell me you didn’t see this coming? You didn’t think Section 31 would just forget your people exposed them? Brought them down?

Thank you for confirming to me there are still plenty of active Section 31 operatives out there,

MacLeod said. But I didn’t come to tell you anything. I came to find out what you did with the real Lt. Daryl Thompson and Lt. Greg Durham? I know it was you who killed their clones and disposed of the bodies. But where are the real Thompson and Durham?

Jaegar considered the request and slowly a grin spread across his face. Why should I help you?

Because you owe me, MacLeod said in a low voice. When you were exposed as Section 31 and your crimes were revealed, I kept Bravo Squad from murdering your pathetic ass. I could have let them kill you.

They’d have done me a favor, Jaegar laughed. I’m 75 years old, doing hard labor in a penal colony. Death would be a relief from this.

Your death would have been excruciatingly painful, Erik, the Scot replied. So yes, I did you a favor.

Jaegar pondered the request again and slowly sat back in his chair, When the clones turned out to be uncontrollable and we realized they were not going to go along with plans, I threw them into the warp core and vaporized them.

MacLeod knew the reason Jaegar was able to easily dispose of two seasoned Shadow Ops operators was because Section 31 had enhanced him. They had given him unnatural abilities such and strength and speed—courtesy of genetic engineering. He knew this old man was far more dangerous than he seemed, hence the heavy restraints.

I know how you killed the clones, MacLeod said. The real Durham and Thompson. Where are they?

Durham is dead, Jaegar said matter-of-factly. He put up a good fight, but I snapped his neck. I got the drop on Thompson and subdued him. Gave him to some uridium miners in the Cotath system as slave labor. They probably worked him to death long ago.

MacLeod gritted his teeth. He was fuming at this man’s callous attitude toward former Shadow Operations team members. He could not believe this man was once his commanding officer and friend. But then it turned out he had been working with Section 31 for years. He’d not only masterminded a plot to create clones of some Shadow Ops personnel and use them to undermine the unit, but he’d also taken knowledge of future events gained through Bravo Squad and with Section 31 went back in time to change the events leading up to the Federation-Confederation War.

These exposed events not only brought him down, ultimately, but they were part of the evidence used by the Federation Council to bring Section 31 to an end.

For Jaegar’s part, he’d ended up here after his court martial. A life sentence under heavy security due to his illegal genetic enhancements, he would toil away doing heavy labor for many years to come.

MacLeod considered Jaegar a moment, and shook his head. You were a good man, Erik. Someone I looked up to, admired and tried to be more like. But I was wrong. I never saw who you really were, until now.

Better man than you’ll ever be, Ian, the former admiral muttered. You lack insight. You lack vision. Why, you’re so naïve you think Section 31 is done for. A thing of the past. I have news for you, MacLeod. Section 31 is just getting started.

MacLeod chuckled as he stood up. Just like you’re just getting started breaking up those rocks in the quarry. Have a good life, Erik.

The Scot stood and left the visitation room without looking back at Erik Jaegar. As far as he was concerned now, the Jaegar he knew was dead.

It was time now to go find Lt. Daryl Thompson and bring him home...if he was still alive.

T’Aayla Praiin Raillius woke slowly, only allowing consciousness to creep gently in. She slowly stretched and turned in her wide bed, feeling the softness of the silken sheets against her skin. Sunlight streamed through the curved windows that comprised half of a wall in her bedroom. She felt the heat of the sun through her closed eyelids, and simply savored the feeling of waking peacefully, without concern, and without pain. It had been only very recently that she had achieved those three experiences. Minutes ticked by while she savored the feeling of semi-consciousness and contentment. She deserved it, she justified to herself, allowing herself to revel in the luxuriousness of the comfortable bed.

Eventually, she opened her eyes, shielding them against the bright light. The clock on the wall read 10:34. She chuckled to herself. Since when had she been able to sleep in that late? With an effort she sat up in bed, stretching her arms luxuriously above her and bending from side-to-side. Idly her left hand moved to the scar just under her right breast, tracing a three centimeter line that was exactly between her fifth and sixth ribs on the right hand side. With that touch, the magic of the peaceful morning ended, and she recalled the handle of T’Lek’s blade protruding from her chest, while hers protruded from his. Hers had found his heart and killed him, whereas his had missed hers by a mere 2 centimeters, puncturing her right lung. She’d lived. He had died. He had underestimated his opponent. She smiled as she thought of her father, Senator Raillius, telling her over and over again in his training sessions to never underestimate your opponent. His teachings had allowed her to live; it had allowed her to triumph, and it had saved his house and sons. The smile slowly faded, as she also recalled his passing. Slowly her usual emptiness returned, despite the bright sunlight.

She had not been able to stay with her brothers on ch’Rihan; her presence was still a potential liability to their house. After the incident on Jarnassis IV her brothers had their hands full dealing with the after effects of the House of T’Lek’s treachery. While T’Lek had been disgraced, no family with that much power in the Empire ceded it easily. Given her background, and despite her prominent role in T’Lek’s defeat, she couldn’t return to the Empire. Her history could potentially be used against her, and her family. So, once she was able to leave the sickbay of her brother’s Warbird, she had returned to Senator Raillius’ shuttle, and had returned to Federation space.

Now she lay in a large bed with silk sheets instead of her usual hard bunk, or furs atop a stone platform. The yellow sun of Risa streamed through her windows, not the green hued sun of ch’Rihan. She forced the dark shadows from her mind. She’d return to her brothers one day, to ch’Rihan, or Romulus as Terrans called it, when it was to their advantage. In the meantime, she’d convalesce on this hedonistic planet deep within the Federation. No one would look for her here, nor ask questions. No enemy would suspect her to be here. She was simply one of millions of visitors the planet received.

Time to rise. She swung her legs to the side of the bed and slid off it with the practiced athleticism of a trained warrior. She made her way through the opulent bedroom, to the attached en suite bathroom. The large mirror within reflected her image back to her. One hundred seventy centimeters tall, 68 kilos of weight, long black hair cut in the typical Rihansuu style, muscular yet lithe build with plenty of curves, multiple scars over her body, and brown eyes that held the look of someone far older. She was 38 years old in Earth years, but that barely translated past adolescence in Rihansuu years. During that time she’d risen to the pinnacle of a career, had that smashed to pieces, and then had picked up those pieces and made herself what she was today. The face that stared back at her was hardened, had seen a lot of pain and suffering, but had also experienced what few ever had. What the future held, she did not know, but whatever it was, she would survive. She would prosper, and she would succeed. Honor demanded nothing less.

T’Aayla Praiin Raillius arrived in her room at the Treveon Resort and was greeted with a message awaiting her on her Starfleet-issue computer she’d brought along. Opening the screen to the device, she saw the message scrolled there:

Commander T’Aayla Praiin Raillius,

Ah, bloody hell! Jaime. I’m sending a runabout from Starbase 450 to retrieve you from Risa at 0900 hours tomorrow morning. The runabout will bring you to Starbase 450. I will meet you there. I have an opportunity for you and, well, dammit arcus..Raillius...whatever I should call you these days, I need you. Hope to see you soon.—Admiral Ian MacLeod.

The sound of stringed instruments and flutes filled the air as the Overkings of the Carnora Pentarchy entered the Hall of the Five Thrones, guarded by trusted members of their respective races. Ryramorl Ra’yral was such an honored member, entrusted with erstwhile President of the Carnora Republic Shor-Ghan Roshaigaro, now OverKing of the Olvern. Ryramorl and his fellow guard took their places at either side of the Throne of the Olvern, as Shor-Ghan stood before his throne and nodded a greeting to the OverKing who would sit beside him, the diminutive Rissa Jachekchek of the Muran. Rissa was small, even by Muran standards. His guards, however, were veritable giants of their race, each over three feet tall. The last OverKing to enter was that of the Ataran, Oregarek Zaveron Island Great Ring Sea. Each were armed with spears—symbols of their authority. Two thrones—the Throne of the Ursarin and the Throne of the Seawalkers—remained empty; the nomadic Ursarin were unsure how to choose a representative of their race, and the Seawalkers remained stubbornly elusive. Ryramorl wasn’t sure if the Seawalkers knew or even cared about the Pentarchy’s existence.

The OverKings had agreed not to hold a court like this unless there was a matter that involved the Carnora race as a whole, so Ryramorl saw the the Federation Ambassador Daniel Arkes brought before them under guard, Ryramorl knew this was going to be interesting. Oregarek gestured towards his guards. Bring out the probe. The guards relayed the order through their radios, and a trolly was brought in carrying some sort of underwater probe.

Beside it was a spear at least 30 feet long and the damage to the probe suggestehad at once time been right through it. Oregarek glared at the ambassador. The Seawalkers brought this to Zaveron Island ten Turnings ago, saying that they found it near one of their temples. We’ve studied it and found human writing on it, so we know it came from your race. You know that a non-Carnora may come to Carnor only with explicit permission. This includes any unmanned probes or craft that come to the system. In short, Ambassador Arkes, you will keep your Starfleet JUNK off our homeworld.

Arkes looked at the wrecked probe carefully, coming as close as the guards would allow him. ...this did NOT come from Starfleet. It may have originated somewhere within the Federation, but this is NOT Starfleet.

It belongs to Starfleet now. Call them and tell them to pick it up as soon as possible. I, OverKing, have spoken He placed the point of his spear on the floor in a gesture of judgement.

I also have an issue with the Federation, said Shor-Ghan. The charge brought against Talsyn Rayargan for drug smuggling.

Yes. The fruit he was caught with has a strong, narcotic effect when ingested, said Arkes.

We question that. The Ronjaro fruit has been a delicacy amongst the Carnora for centuries, and no such effects have ever been reported.

Amongst Carnora. But the governer of Salarr IV is human.

You will provide proof of the narcotic effects, or drop your case. Until then, Talsyn has done nothing wrong. I, OverKing, have spoken. And he placed his spear point-down.

Rissa didn’t have a specific charge, so he simply said, I support my fellow OverKings in these matters. I, OverKing, have spoken. He set his spear point-down. Once Daniel Arkes was removed, other matters of State were brought before them.

After Court was dismissed, Ryramorl returned home. To his surprise, his brother High Ra’yral Chief Myaral was waiting for him outside his den.

Myaral. This is excellent news. Come on in.

Ryramorl and Myaral entered; Myaral’s mate was already within, helping Ryramorl’s mate cook dinner. So, what of the charges against Talsyn? asked Myaral.

Ryramorl snorted. Shor-Ghan wants proof that the Ronjaro fruit has any effects on humans before they go after Talsyn. Personally, I think the real issue was Talsyn was back in teh Federation, and they needed something to go after him over.

And the Probe?

Starfleet had better be here very soon to get that bloody thing. Oregarak says it was actually found near one of the Seawalker Temples, so they’re probably pretty pissed too.

Myaral growled. Good to know Shor-Ghan hasn’t gone soft.

How goes it back home?

Rowasher was caught Hunting again. He actually kidnapped a Muran and forced him into a Hunt, and the Muran got hurt bad.

Dammit. Two Cleansings, and he STILL pulls this?

Myaral nodded. We had a meeting of the Chiefs. I’ve had enough of this thunderrunner’s leavings—Rowashar is from OUR band, no less! He is a disgrace!

And a third Cleansing won’t take.

Myaral growled in affirmation. No, it won’t, which is why I called a meeting of the Ra’yral Chiefs. And we agreed that there won’t be a third Cleansing. He will be sacrificed to the LawBringer.

They would have talked more, but their mates called them to dinner.

After dinner there was a message waiting for Ryramoral: Lt. Ra’yral. A runabout from Starbase 450 will retrieve you from Carnor in two days. I have an opportunity for you. Hope to see you soon.—Admiral Ian MacLeod.

The remnants of the moon Praxis still reflected some light across the mountain range that night. The air was still, leaving a light blanket of volcanic smoke to settle in to the valleys between the peaks. A fine layer of ash covered everything. No wonder plants couldn’t grow here. Even off in the distance, the night wasn’t completely dark as light emanating from flowing molten lava would give a permanent red-orange glow to the night sky forever.

Five dark clad figures were crouched in defensive positions behind stray volcanic boulders, shrouded in the shadows and unmoving. They watched through piercing eyes the two Klingons standing guard the entrance they needed to go through. It was the back entrance; the garbage tunnel. They watched patiently as another Klingon brought out a barrel of remnant foodstuff and poured it over the side of the cliff. He gave the guards a grunt before disappearing back through the door. They had patiently watched for hours the habits and routine of the guards and those inside. The sun had set nearly five hours ago. They had seen enough. It was time to move in.

Overwatch, take them, Commander Mayla Vree, designated Echo 1 and team leader, sent the order to Lieutenant Jair Kalal, Echo 5, over the new subspace subvocal. He was situated at an outcropping half a kilometer away that gave him a good view of the complex that was carved out of the side of a mountain. Each of them had personal jammers to mask their energy signatures from any scanners the Klingons had placed around the perimeter.

Without hesitation, the heads of the two Klingons each jerked back once, less than a quarter second apart, and slumped to the ground without a single drop of blood shed. The silenced sniper rifle fired a 2mm explosive round that once it entered their skulls, the round activated a micro explosion to send compacted shrapnel into the surrounding tissue. Depending on the density of tissue, the shrapnel can reach the size of a fist, tearing everything in its path apart.

Clear, Jair reported as the thermal imagery projected in his eyes from a transparent membrane across his eyeballs showed no one else in the vicinity. He briefly looked at the visuals his overwatch drones were keeping an eye of the surrounding area. It only showed the two now cooling Klingon bodies. He shook his head slightly, thinking how stupid they were to rely entirely only on sensors to monitor the surrounding for intruders.

Mayla gave a hand signal to the rest of her team and moved towards the door in the dimly lit compound. Four members of Echo Team on the ground moved in unison through the door and down the tunnelled out hallway that led deep into the mountainside while Lieutenant Hilo Navim, Echo 6, remained outside to cover their escape if needed.

She slowly tracked her TR390 back and forth, taking point to the first fork in the tunnel and looked both ways for anyone while following what her tricorder was reading within the vicinity. She paused for a moment to quickly check the drones sensor readouts projected into her own eyes of the exterior to be sure no one was coming up from behind them. Jair would have warned them if there was anyone. She could now smell rotting meat and foodstuff coming from the left. They weren’t going that way anyway. She headed down the right corridor with her team following in silent unison.

The cave walls began to expand in width and height as the floors became polished stone. The walls now held torches of various sizes that lit the way in an orange glow. The further they went in, the more modern technologies were prevalent; automatic doors, illumination running from a central power source, and even access panels in the walls. Eventually, even the cave walls were no longer visible as if starship interior paneling was installed to house various conduits for power and computer data cable runs. And the ceilings began to reach 8 meter heights to allow the movement of heavy equipment and weapons perhaps.

The sound of booted steps on the stone ground reached their ears as the tricorder picked up the lifeform approaching from around the corner. Without needing a signal from their team leader, Echo Team took up shooting positions just as a female Klingon turned around the corner. Projected in their eyes, four targeting dots appeared on the armored breastplate and converged into a tight square. All four fired at the same time, but not a sound came from their weapons. Four rounds plowed through the armor and into the Klingon’s heart, completely destroying all eight chambers before she could cry out or draw a weapon. So confident in their marksmanship, they were already moving before the body hit the ground.

Sky eyes, Mayla said over the subvoc. Her 2IC and Echo 2, Lieutenant Commander Kara Barees, pulled out several small medallion sized devices from a pouch at her belt, activated them and threw them up into the air. The small drones floated up to the ceiling and moved forward, sending visuals and sensor scans back to the team. She ordered them towards their primary target. The drones moved slowly and quietly ahead of them, hugging the ceiling corners to stay innocuous and hidden in the shadows as much as their AI can discern. The team of four moved quickly down the hall, turning down one, then turning to another. They had expected to encounter more guards, but kept vigilant and alert as they moved towards their mission objective.

Mayla held up a fist to stop their movement. There was a roar of many Klingons that echoed down the hall to them; at least a few dozen. They waited a moment for the yells to quiet down a few decibels before they continued. Now they could hear more clearly the voices of Klingons coming through an open double doorway down one hallway. It sounded like they were either celebrating, or bolstering their Klingon blood for their upcoming coordinated assault on the Klingon High Council tomorrow. Boasting of the number of kills and victories they have yet to claim. Echo Team would deal with them shortly. They had to reach their primary target first. They headed down a different hallway.

At last, the drones announced their arrival, detecting the lifesigns of their target. But there were four heavily armed Klingons posted outside the chamber doors 30 meters down the hall. The four team members took up position just around the corner; one was crouched low, one was on one knee, one was standing, and Mayla stood next to them. Upon assigning targets, on her signal, all four swung out around the corner and fired at the same time. All four Klingons fell to the floor; killed by deadly headshots.

Echo Team broke into a silent run towards the door. Three, breach, Mayla said, ordering Lieutenant Cree Tiallin, Echo 3, to activate the door. He burst ahead of them into a full sprint, going down on his knees in a silent slide to pick up a fallen Klingon’s batleth and skidded to a fluid halt onto his feet. He reached for the panel to activate the door and held out the handle side of the batleth in front of the opening door. Before the door even opened all the way, Mayla, first in the pact, grabbed the batleth from Cree as she entered the room.

Once inside, they dispersed and took in the large room with one glance, noting positions to take for cover, and most importantly, identifying their target. All but Mayla went down to one knee, slowing their forward momentum and taking a bead on their target. Mayla continued her charge across the room.

The tall, large klingon was standing in front of a floor to ceiling wall mirror admiring what would be the new Chancellor’s armor he would wear the next day; and every day from then on. When he finally did turn to see who had rudely entered his room without announcement, three weapons had already targeted into a tight triangle on his chest where his heart was and fired. Three rounds simultaneously went through the armor and into his heart. By then, Mayla had reached him and coldly impaled him through the heart in the same spot with the end of the batleth so hard that the point of the weapon pierced through the armor in his back.

The large klingon’s eyes silently roared with anger at first, then disbelief as his life slowly left him. The body fell solidly onto the ground with Mayla’s knee on top of him, still holding the batleth. She gave it a twist to the left, and then a twist to the right. She stood up and looked over to Jair, who tossed her another batleth from another dead klingon guard. She caught the weapon and whirled around to gain momentum and slammed the end through the klingon’s thick skull. Giving it a quick left and right twist, she then got up and left the weapons impaled in the body like grave markers and signaled the team to quickly move out. They still had to clear the building of the rest of the klingons. She didn’t want to lose the element of surprise.

Twenty five minutes later, the four members of Echo Team silently left the compound, bloodied and leaving a carnage that was made up to look like the klingons had turned on one another and killed their leader. The initial intelligence reports indicated they were going to use high yield explosives to destroy the Great Hall with all of the Klingon leadership converging for a meeting. Echo Team found the explosives and transported them all into a magma chamber deep below them to be disposed of. They scrubbed clean their existence in the operation before Jair came down from his vantage to join them at the exfiltration point while Hilo collected the overwatch drones.

Good work, Mayla simply said. The team of six performed well, again. They worked together as one unit, one organism, as they always did since that first training day together so, so many years ago. Even before they were in the Academy together.

Time to go? Lieutenant Jena Lias, Echo 4, asked.

Mayla didn’t respond to her, but opened a channel to the Ascension class ship in orbit ready to beam them out. Echo 1 to Axiom, six to beam up.

No one greeted them when they materialized on the small transporter pad situated aft of their small cloaked ship. They all headed back to their shared quarters except for Mayla, who headed for the bridge. Upon entering, there was also no one there, as if the ship was deserted. But in this day and age of technology, they no longer needed a bridge crew to run a small ship like this. Although, they still kept stations to be manned and they will always have a center chair. Which Mayla now sat into.

Computer, maintain cloak and set course for Echo Base, warp 7. Engage.

Acknowledged, the computer responded. Setting course for Echo Base and engaging at warp 7.

Once we are clear of Klingon space, send coded message Brown Sunset Zero to home base. I’ll be in my quarters. Mayla stood up and waited a moment for the computer to respond. Their base would understand the predetermined code; Brown stood for Klingon, Sunset stood for mission completed, and Zero stood for zero casualties.

Acknowledged, Commander. And welcome back.

Mayla just shook her head at the computer’s attempt to be more...emotionally sentient. When she reached her quarters that as team leader, had to herself, she stripped off her gear and took a sonic shower to wash the dust and ash of Qo’noS. When she came out, she sat down at her computer terminal and started her after mission report. Occasionally she would glance over at a hologram pad propped up on her desk, staring at the picture of her family. Of the five people in the image, only three of them were still alive, including herself. A sad smile came to her face faster than she expected. The elder became reclusive after the death of his wife and daughter, and the youngest became angry blaming Starfleet for taking away his family. The past 10 years had been rough on their family. The loss of Linsayla, Nilani, and Shadow Operations took a heavy toll on her father. Even with the vast experiences of several hosts through his symbiote, Kyril Vree allowed himself to shut down inside and focus only on the work that was given to him. She knew these experiences in his life was placed on a shelf and into a locked closet in his heart; a way to keep him focused on his work at Starfleet Intelligence. He had even shut her out, causing a rift and distance between them she hoped someday could be bridged. She knew him better than anyone alive, and she knew better of him. She missed him so much.

A chime sounded on her terminal, indicating a waypoint in their navigation. They had just left Klingon space, and the computer had transmitted her message to their hidden Starfleet Intelligence outpost, Echo Base. She put down the holopad and got back to writing her report.

In the middle of the night, Mayla was awakened by a transmission arriving at her desktop terminal. When she pulled herself from bed and padded over to the console, she opened the encrypted message and it read: Commander Vree. Your vessel has been ordered to drop you off at Starbase 450. I have an opportunity for you. See you soon.—Admiral Ian MacLeod.

Daryl sat at his desk, overthinking how to optimize the subroutines of some AI algorithm. He sipped from his coffee, as he was looking at the advanced schematics laid out on the screen in front of him.

Time for a break he thought. At that same moment, the door chimed. Come in he said absently as he was closing all files. The door opened and a woman entered. It was a good looking woman, in her early forties. Pale skin, freckles, and with lush, red hair, in a long braid.

Daryl? she almost whispered. Her voice sounded frail. Daryl looked up.

Yes, how can I help you? he asked. The woman stepped forward.

Don’t you remember me? she asked.

Daryl looked at her and tried to remember if he knew her. But he didn’t. I am sorry, but no I don’t, miss...? he replied.

McGuirre. Darva McGuirre. May I sit down? she looked as if she didn’t feel too well. Her eyes were moist.

Of course Daryl replied, while he was still thinking if he’d knew her.

Can I get you something? A glass of water? Daryl got up and walked to the replicator.

A glass of water would be fine she said, while she sat down, uneasy. Daryl got back with a glass of water and sat down again.

I am really sorry, ma’am, as he noticed the pips of the rank of a Lt. Commander on her uniform. But should I know you? Daryl had a guess were this was going. The redheaded woman took a few sips of her water, and exhaled.

We did serve together. Quite a while ago. On the USS Intruder. Under captain Lazarus. But I guess that was your cloned alter ego.

Daryl sighed deeply. It was still difficult to realize that someone else, an identical clone had lived a part of his life, while he was imprisoned on some backwater planet.

Apparently it was, Daryl replied. He had gotten all the files with the history of his cloned self. But so far he hadn’t read through them. I guess my unknown past is catching up with me, Daryl smiled slightly. He felt uneasy. He didn’t know what to expect. Commander McGuirre was an attractive woman. He really was curious where and when they had served together.

Can I invite you for dinner? He asked her. I was just finished for today. And I think we have a lot to talk about, don’t we? He looked at the commander. She smiled warmly.

I’d loved to. Was her answer. I know a nice quiet place. Daryl said as he got up. Shall we then? he smiled again, hiding the uneasy feelings behind it.

A few hours later...

Daryl was dazzled about what Darva told him. During dinner, in a cozy corner of a French restaurant, she told him what happened during the time they served together on the Intruder. An Anti Borg Squad. And it was obvious Darva and the cloned Daryl were more than friends. Well, that wasn’t too hard to imagine. She was a interesting and pretty woman. After they had returned, or better, survived the last attack from the Borg, Daryl returned to SO and Darva was reassigned to a different branch of Starfleet and they lost contact. They had sent each other some messages for a while, but then, the cloned Daryl went rogue. Darva told all about it, at least her side of the story. Her eyes were filled with tears when she told about the part where the Daryl she knew betrayed Starfleet and had to flee. She was heartbroken. When she found out recently Daryl was still alive, she didn’t hesitate and went to see him. And there they were, together, sitting in a restaurant...

It was difficult to grasp what Darva told him. Daryl couldn’t believe it. He had missed quite some action. His thoughts drifted away. Then he felt Darva squeezing his hand. Hey, you still here? she asked. He looked at her.

I am sorry. It is...quite a story what you tell me. It’s hard to grasp someone else lived that life. And I am kind of jealous I missed out on it. And not just for fighting the Borg in the Delta Quadrant. he looked her in the eyes, and feelings he never felt came out of nowhere, overwhelming him.

I missed you Daryl. Darva said. She took his hand and held it tightly.

What can I say, Darva. Daryl replied. I would’ve missed me too he added, jokingly, and grinned. Darva looked at him sternly for a moment, then she giggled. You haven’t changed a bit. Even though you are older and not even the Daryl I used to know.

Daryl was glad he pulled her out of her bad mood. Shall we have another bottle of wine then? he grinned as he gestured the waiter.

Well, why not Darva said, and smiled warmly...

Daryl woke up early. He opened his eyes and saw Darva lying next to him, still in deep sleep. He smiled, and gently kissed her on the cheek. He felt a little fuzzy. Too much wine and too little sleep. He smiled. Then he carefully got up, not to wake her, and slid out of the bedroom to get ready for duty.

Half an hour later he sat at the bar table in the kitchen with a hot mug of coffee and some cereals. He was reading some of the logs from his cloned alter ego, as Darva walked into the kitchen, a little uneasy. Daryl cracked a smile Hey, good morning he said, as he grabbed her gently and kissed her. Darva smiled and replied his kiss.

Hey good morning she said, as she cuddled against him. Daryl enjoyed it. He could get used to this. It felt good to have Darva around him. Even though he only knew her since yesterday, it felt good. Very good.

Want some breakfast? he asked her.

Yeah, would love to. she replied. Daryl jumped of his chair, and went to work. No replicator breakfast, but old-fashioned, hand-made breakfast. Withinminutes, eggs and bacon were sizzling in a pan, fresh coffee was brewing, and the air was filled with the smell of toasted bread.

There you go Daryl said, serving 2 plates with breakfast and steaming hot coffee.

Enjoy your breakfast Daryl said, as he kissed her quickly and sat beside her.

Thank you, likewise she replied.

So what are you up? Daryl asked her, in between to bites, to start a conversation.

I don’t really know Darva replied. I have about a week before I have to return to duty. She played with her fork for a few moments, then she looked at Daryl. I would love to spend some more time with you. Not a day has passed without thinking about you, ever since.... she stopped talking. I am so glad you are still alive and I found you. she said. Daryl smiled.

I would love to spend time with you as well. I like you very much Darva. Things feel...naturally with you... he looked her in the eyes. It feels good to be with you as well she whispered.

Daryl gently took her in his arms. For a short while, they just sat there in silence, enjoying the moment. Then he broke the silence. I do need to get to work though, so I guess our time will be bit limited. But I would love to get to get to know you better. If you want, you can stay here in my apartment.

She looked at him. Really?

Of course Daryl replied.

I think I can get used to the fact someone is waiting for me when I come home. He kissed her gently. Speaking of that, I have to go soon.

They finished breakfast and cleaned up together. Make it yourself comfortable here. Daryl said as he was heading for the door. Computer, give Darva full access to my apartment.

The computer chirped shortly and replied Access granted.

We could grab lunch together. I do have some room in my current job. he looked at her once more, and felt that great feeling again. I would like that she said.

Good. See you around noon then he replied, and with a last kiss, he walked out of the apartment. On his way to Starfleet HQ, his comm-badge chirped.

Lt. Thompson, a high priority message has come in for you. the voice of comms officer Huxley stated.

Thank you Lt. Huxley. From who is the message?

Daryl asked. I can’t tell, Lieutenant. The message is encrypted and for your eyes only. Daryl raised his eyebrows.

I am on my way, officer, be there in 5 minutes...

Message to Lt. Daryl Thompson: Lt. Thompson. Be aboard the Federation freighter USS Zephyr when she departs Earth on Stardate 1810.20. You will join Colonel Jahkar there. I have an opportunity for you. See you soon.—Admiral Ian MacLeod.

Cody stood behind the helm officer, who was preparing to dock the hauler at the station. They had been hauling ore, nonstop for the past 72 hours. This was the sixth load since they started. Each cargo load was about 800,000 metric tons of raw ore, which would be refined at the station. The refined metals would be transported to every corner of the Alpha quadrant.

Cody was dead tired and looked forward for getting a shower, some sleep and decent meal. The past 72 hours where nerve wrecking. The company was on the verge of collapsing, and a lot of ore transports had been hijacked lately. 3 haulers where destroyed and all ores had been stolen by pirates. A massive drain for the company.

The last 72 hours, no pirate had been sighted. So in 3 days they had been able to haul a huge amount of raw ores. The company could use the financial injection. A light shudder went through the hauler, when the docking clamps grabbed the ship into position. A few moments later, they were hailed. It was Doc O’Brien, leader of the fighter squadron attached to the hauler.

Cody, all safe here. No bogeys in the vicinity. So far so good. We dock as well. Station armament is locked and loaded. Squadron’s Pi, Ro and Sigma are on standby.

Aye aye Doc, enjoy your off time. See you tomorrow for the next haul. Cody opened a comm channel to the cargo chief. We’re docked and ready for transfer, Chief T’Lum.

For a few moments, it was silent. Then the raw voice of T’Lum replied. Aye sir, initiating transfer procedure.

Cody sighed. He was done for now. He turned to the ops engineer. Keep the shields up. Call in the squadron’s at the first sign of other ships appearing here.

Yes sir the Ops engineer replied.

A few minutes later, Cody reached his small personal quarters on the station. Just before he entered, he heard his name being called. It was his uncle, Sean.

Good job you did there, mate, good job. But we still need a lot more before we are out of trouble. Can you pick another shift tomorrow morning? Cody turned towards his uncle. He never liked him a lot. And now he was even pushing things to the limit.

Uncle Sean, the crew has been working their asses of for the past 3 days. They deserve at least one, but better two days of shore leave. You can’t push them any further. They will start a mutiny.

You can handle that, can’t you Uncle Sean smiled. I expect you to make another haul run, starting by 0600 tomorrow. Uncle Sean walked away, but Cody stopped him.

I am not hauling tomorrow. Nor is my crew. I told you when I started this, I will help. But on my terms. And that means no hauling tomorrow. And then I’ll have a look at my crew if they are up for it.

Uncle Sean’s eyes narrowed and his face became red. Do I need to repeat myself, boy? Uncle Sean hissed.

Cody cracked a wry smile.Do I need to repeat myself, Uncle Sean? Cody replied, and his uncle’s face reddened even more. Cody stayed calm, and crossed his arms.

I’m done with you and your big mouth. Uncle Sean almost spit out the words. You are done here. Tomorrow you will leave this station.

Cody shrugged. That’s ok. And I’ll take my crew with me. Don’t want them to get in your way. Goodnight, uncle Sean Cody stepped into his quarters, as he felt he was grabbed by the shoulder by his uncle and pulled back.

How dare you talk to me like this Uncle Sean fumed. I built this company, together with your father for the past 40 years....So don’t get me this load of crap.

Cody pushed away the hand of his uncle, which was still holding his uniform, and he stepped close to his uncle. If you ever touch me again, I.... then he saw his father coming towards them. Jerry Beckett stepped in between Cody and his brother Sean and pushed them both backwards.

Come on you two. This isn’t necessary. He addressed Uncle Sean. Sean, can you please handle the loading of the refined metals for Betazed ? Commander Idraar is in a hurry. He wants to leave as quickly as possible. Then he pushed Cody into his quarter and stepped in as well. The door closed behind him, leaving a puzzled Uncle Sean behind.

Sit down Jerry said to his son and pushed him on the bunk. What the hell was that all about? he looked at Cody.You know we need every scrap of ore to get back in business.

Cody sighed. He had had this conversation for about a gazillion times. Listen, dad...I am aware of the situation of the company. But I wasn’t the one to have the haulers fly unprotected between the belts and the station. And I wasn’t the one who pushed his crew way past exhaustion, resulting in a crash off that hauler into a planetoid. And now he wants me to do the same. Me and my crew have been hauling for 3 days nonstop. And they deserve at least one day of to get some rest. We are not hauling tomorrow. Cody looked at his father, who had his eyes closed and exhaled deeply.

I know Jerry said. You are right. You and your crew take the day off tomorrow. I’ll talk to Sean and try to reason with him. He only wants to have the company get back on track.

Cody scoffed. Then maybe he should overthink the way he is trying to do business. This isn’t certainly the way. Cody answered.

Jerry sighed, You are right. I’ll have a word with him. Are you ok?

Cody nodded. Yes, I am. But I am dirty, tired, and hungry. So if you don’t mind, I would like to take shower, eat, and sleep for a few hours. I will drop by later.

Fair enough, Jerry nodded and made his way out, leaving Cody to his own.

Cody sighed and shook his head. He wondered if the company would ever get back on track as he walked into the shower. A little later Cody walked into the messhall of the station. Refreshed, but still tired he took a small meal from the replicator and sat down at a table with a view at the asteroid belt. Small mining vessels where moving back and forth through the asteroids. The messhall was quiet. A few people where sitting there, probably getting ready for duty.

Further down the messhall, a group of miners where having a drink and a laugh. Cody ate his meal, while reading through some reports of the hauler. Minor damages, some broken parts and a few minor accidents in engineering. Cody scoffed. The ships of his family’s company weren’t in the best of shape, as maintenance was pushed back below the bare minimum. He threw the datapadd on the table and continued his meal. When he finished, he stretched out and sat there for a while, his hands folded behind his head, gazing at the scenery the window provided.

He was pondering about how to continue his life. For over a year, he was working for the family company again. He had taken an extended shoreleave from his Starfleet assignment to do so. His superior in Starfleet, Captain Dasen, a Trill, wasn’t fond of giving him the long shoreleave. Cody himself wasn’t very eager himself as well in the beginning, but he felt obliged to do so. So here he was, more than a year later. He wasn’t unknown to the life of miners, but since the end of the war, piracy and theft seemed to have risen a lot. The past year he had seen a lot of troubles on the mining missions he went on. He lost a few good friends along the way, killed in stupid accidents or pirate attacks. He pushed away those thoughts, stretched once more, emptied his glass of juice and decided it was time to hit the sack for a while.

Beckett was awakened in the middle of the night by an alarm on his computer console, signaling an incoming transmission. When he finally stumbled to the console and retrieved the message, it said: Lt. Beckett. A runabout from Starbase 450 will retrieve you from Asteroid Station NCLM-345 at 1635 hours. I have an opportunity for you. See you soon.—Admiral Ian MacLeod.

Colonel Jahkar walked along a line of Federation Marine Recon graduates, inspecting each soldier. Seeing if anything was out of line, any equipment out of place or if anyone looked overly nervous. They were all perfect. Just as Jahkar had trained them to be. All of them were going to be an asset to Starfleet, just he had been and as many other Marines had been before them.

I look at you all today, and I see soldiers! Jahkar said, his voice booming. Eight weeks ago you all came to me looking to become Recon Marines! At that time I laughed when I saw you all assembled like this at Ft. Nordic. You were a pathetic bunch! Undisciplined, untried and unaware of what you’d gotten yourselves into. Not all of you who began this journey finished it. Eighteen dropouts or washes. But what remains is a fine, fighting force. You may all be proud to call yourselves Federation Recon Marines!

OOHRAH! the 12 men and women assembled all barked in unison. Jahkar looked them over again and nodded, We are here today at Starfleet Headquarters to graduate you from recon training. Each and every one of you will be given assignments today that will take you about Federation ships or starbases, where you will be assigned to marine units serving there.

Tell me again, what is the relationship between Starfleet and the Federation Marine Corps?

Starfleet does the flying! the 12 yelled together. Marines do the dying!

That’s right. Marines fight, and they often die. But they know their duty and they always finish the mission, Jahkar said, his voice loud and assertive. You have all done well. Lt. Cartwright will give you your assignments. It has been a pleasure to train you all. Do not let this Corp down.

SIR NO SIR!

At ease, soldiers, Jahkar said. Lieutenant, they’re all yours.

Cartwright stepped up from behind Jahkar, saluted the colonel, and then began to give the unit their assignments. As he did, Jahkar turned and headed from the field toward the Marine base at Starfleet Headquarters.

When he stepped through the door, he was met by a young Bolian corporal. The corporal saluted and Jahkar returned the gesture, before he spoke.

Colonel, Corporal Neng said. You have a message from Starfleet Command, encoded for your eyes only.

Who sent it? Jahkar asked.

Admiral MacLeod.

Jahkar smiled. I’ll take it in my quarters.

Sir yes sir, the corporal sprang to attention and hurried off. Jahkar made his way to the quarters he’d been assigned at the Marine compound within Starfleet Command and once inside, he sealed the door and went to the computer on his desktop and pulled up the message, after it was decrypted, he read: Colonel Jahkar, please be aboard the USS Zephyr when she departs for Starbase 450 later today. I have an offer for you. See you there.—MacLeod.

Jahkar saw the attached orders for him to ride out on the freighter Zephyr when it left today at 2100 hours. He pondered the situation and moment, then began to pack...intrigued about what might possibly be ahead for him.

Phaser fire crisscrossed the corridors of the space station orbiting Gallad VI as a team of Starfleet Intelligence’s Special Activities Division operators shot it out with the last remaining members of the criminal organization known as the Consortium.

The battle was the culmination of years of missions by the crew of the SAD-assigned starship USS Pandora. They had been hunting and destroying Consortium strongholds across the Alpha Quadrant, until today when they were on the space station known as Kepler’s Array mopping up the last vestiges of Consortium filth.

Lt. Tiri Sh’avelith was in the thick of the fight, exchanging fire with Consortium foot-soldiers as they closed in on the leader of the Consortium, Grak, a Ferengi who had secretly headed the organization for years. Tiri and three members of SAD-1, the Starfleet Intelligence unit she belonged to, were advancing down a corridor leading to the command center where Grak was trapped.

He’s not getting out of here, Tiri hissed through clenched teeth as they neared the door into the command center, stepping over dead Consortium soldiers along the way. Not this time.

Lieutenant, Commander Finneus Fitzpatrick said firmly. We’ve got him, we just have to follow the plan. Don’t rush.

The Andorian woman gave a curt nod. She wanted Grak badly, she’d waited for this day for two years. Ever since her only true friend aboard Pandora, Ensign Amanda Ramsey was killed on her first mission with the team. Ramsey was the only member of this crew who accepted her and treated her like one of the team, and Grak’s people had killed her in a bombing on Dorcestus III.

She would exact her revenge. She had no intention of letting the Ferengi scum live. They reached command center and Ensign Viers attached a shaped charge of explosives to the door. As he did, Tiri and Fitzpatrick covered him. A couple more armed thugs attempted to come at them, but they were able to dispatch the attackers in short order.

Finally, the charge was set and Viers moved the three of them back to a safe distance before he blew the door. When the blast occurred, the team moved forward, signaling the other SAD-1 operators they were breaching the command center.

Tiri was in first. She saw several armed Consortium soldiers all aiming to fire. She picked off one and rolled behind a console as a barrage of phaser fire slammed all around her. Viers was in next, but barely made it in two steps before he was vaporized. Fitzpatrick followed, firing wildly and taking down another soldier, before jumping for cover.

Another door on the opposite side of the room exploded and more phaser fire erupted as the next team was unleashed upon the Consortium holdouts in the command center. Tiri fired from her cover, striking and killing at least two more gunmen.

She ran from her position, dropping the gun, and jumped up and slung her legs around one of the Consortium thug’s neck. She spun around on his shoulder, wrenching his neck until it snapped, dropping him to the floor. She jumped free of his falling carcass and leapt to the floor.

There she landed in a crouch and looked around, seeing another approaching Consortium soldier. The Andorian launched herself up at the man, slamming her agile body into his gut, pushing him back and knocking the rifle out of his hands. She drew her ushaan-tor—an Andorian ice pick—and drove the weapon up into the man’s throat, piercing it deep.

The man dropped to his knees, gasping as he died quickly, Tiri pulled the ushaan-tor from his neck and finished him with a knee to the face.

Looking around, her eyes fell upon the prize. The fat Ferengi cowered in the corner, watching the fight, dismayed as he saw the Special Activities Division team mopping up the last of his soldiers. Tiri sheathed the ice pick and drew her phaser pistol from its holster. She then walked toward Grak, shooting a couple more soldiers as she made her way there.

From behind her, she heard Commander Fitzpatrick yell at her, Lieutenant Sh’avelith! We want Grak alive! Use stun only!

Tiri ignored her CO and kept marching at the Ferengi. He was now looking right at her, his disruptor in hand as he shakily aimed it at the Andorian woman.

Grak! yelled Lt. Commander Thorne, another member of the team as he moved toward the Ferengi and aimed his rifle. Drop the weapon and surrender!

Grak looked to Thorne and compiled, dropping his disruptor to the floor. He put his hands in the air and cackled, I surrender! Ha! My Federation lawyers will have me out in no time!

Not likely, Tiri muttered, raising her phaser and aiming it at Grak.

Lieutenant! NO! Fitzpatrick shouted, now scrambling to tackle her. Don’t shoot him!

Tiri fired. The beam from her phaser struck Grak’s midsection and he gave a blood curdling scream, just seconds before he was vaporized. When he was gone, the room was silent. All of the soldiers were dead and the SAD team stood around, looking at Tiri with utter disbelief. Fitzpatrick ran up on her and grabbed the phaser from her hand. You just killed the person we were sent here to apprehend. I ordered you not to kill him!

I wasn’t about to let him live, she muttered, her voice dripping with contempt. He has killed three of our team members, four counting Viers who just died, over the last two year. He has killed countless civilians. Federation justice would have let him walk. I wasn’t going to let that happen! Fitzpatrick turned the slender young Andorian toward him and shook her by the arms with both hands,

It wasn’t your call to make, Lt. Sh’avelith! We don’t kill people who surrender. He was surrendering and was unarmed.

Too bad for him, she sneered.

Take her into custody and take her back to Pandora, Fitzpatrick hissed, trying to quell his anger. Lock her in the brig.

Two of the team members grabbed her up and took her away to be beamed out by the Pandora...

Tiri Sh’avelith lay on her bunk in the brig, her weapons and gear removed several hours earlier, leaving her in her mission uniform. She stared at the ceiling, quietly, until Commander Fitzpatrick arrived and lowered the forcefield on the door, letting himself in.

You have got to be one of the luckiest people I know, the red-headed commander said. I was going to order you court martialed for what you did on that station. You killed an unarmed man who surrendered, also snuffing out the last, best hope we had of learning if there are any more Consortium strongholds.

Tiri sighed, Remind me again, commander, why am I lucky?

He threw a data pad at her, landing it on her midsection .She reached down and picked it up, then looked over the data displayed there.

Transfer? And orders countermanding the court martial? she asked. Is this a joke?

Sounds like one, doesn’t it? he said. But it’s not. Orders from Starfleet Intelligence, an Admiral MacLeod, reassigning you to his command. We drop you off at Starbase 450.

Tiri sat up, So, am I free to go?

I’m still putting this in your file, lieutenant, Fitzpatrick grumbled. I hope you’re happy with yourself.

She paused a moment, Hmmm. Yes, yes I am, commander.

The commander shook his head. Go. Pack. You’re relieved of duty the rest of your time on Pandora and confined to quarters. I don’t want to see you again, understood?

Yes sir, she said, smiling.

Fitzpatrick stormed out in a huff and Tiri got off the bunk and stretched. Two security officers escorted her to her quarters and there, she began to pack her bags.