Alyana Ryat
Commodore
Registered: Sept 5, 2007 16:34:56 GMT
Posts: 347
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Post by Alyana Ryat on Nov 17, 2014 21:15:55 GMT
The last repairs had been completed the day before the Excal had slid into dock. Aly was quite relieved when the umbilical attached and she finally keyed the shipwide comm to announce that leave was granted to all crew. Everyone was tired and she didn't quite know what she would do if something else had interrupted their return to base. She got up from her chair on the bridge and worked a kink out of her spine. She was going to go to her quarters and then get changed. Jenni was insisting on a shopping trip, she claimed both of them needed to bury the demons of their previous trip. Aly wasn't sure that was entirely true but she did want to do something that didn't involve taking responsibility for other people for a while.
Tag: All, enjoy your leave. Suggestions on the next mission gratefully received.
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Daniel Schirra
Captain
Registered: Apr 8, 2013 21:02:47 GMT
Posts: 468
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Post by Daniel Schirra on Nov 19, 2014 1:16:58 GMT
The journey home had taken a little over a week. They had been in no real hurry to arrive back at Earth. Nothing had come through regarding their next mission and were essentially free to go wherever in an 'exploratory' capacity if the Commodore so wished. But with the repairs that were on-going, and the fact that several upgrades and essential system repairs would require the Star Base, the Commanding Officer had chosen to return home ..... Having overseen the docking of the Excalibur, Daniel waited to see what the Captain had in mind. He wasn't surprised when she announced shore leave for all personnel effective immediately. "Are you going down to the surface Captain ?" he asked Alyana. "Well, it seems I've been dragged into some therapeutic shopping." she said, getting out of her seat and stretching out her aching spine, "Might do you good to go down for a day or two you know. I'm sure the Base Technicians will get hold of one of us if there's any problems. Take the time while you can." she finished, leaving him stood watching the stars. He had decided not to take the Commodore's advice, besides, he didn't have family, or for that matter, many friends on Earth, at least, not many that would be happy to see him ... The reasoning behind his being, in his opinion, 'dumped' on the Excalibur, was that he had upset a great many people, some in very high places, during his investigation of the Keeluun Syndicate Assignment, several of those were out to extract revenge in one form or another ... Not that he cared, in fact, he didn't think he could have cared any less. He had spent a great deal of time infiltrating the organization and climbing through the ranks, until he held a position of trust among the higher echelons ...... One Year Earlier:Holed up on a moon close to the Neutral Zone, It had been thought that the group were been supplying refined craylon gas to certain factions in the form of a very effective atmospherically deployed weapon, that if used in high enough concentrations could render a given area, or even the whole surface of a planet lifeless ..... He needed to find who was behind the selling of this refined gas, and where it was being manufactured. For over a year he had operated on low-level tasks until he could prove himself. That day came when he was ordered to release a small vial of the gas in a conference room on Typhonce III. There would only be three people in the room, how he got the device in, and how he got himself out was his concern, and given the fact that at this point he could not identify even the lower level operatives of the syndicate, it was a given that he 'DID' need to get out.
He had carried out his task with efficiency, and on his return to the location he was to be beamed out from, two of the as yet unseen higher echelon operatives were waiting. They had decided to include him more now that he had 'proven' himself to their satisfaction, and so he was moved up the ladder quickly, until he was sitting down with some of the highest members of the syndicate ... It was at one of these meeting's that he almost came face to face with the contact on Earth, the woman who had been supplying information and funds for them. Shortly after her departure he was sent to Vulcan to meet with a trade delegate who would supply information regarding their next buyer, but it was a trap !
Having killed two of the people sent to assassinate him, he had barely escaped with his life .......... Now he was back, albeit in high geosynchronous orbit, but back all the same ... He had wondered vaguely if he was still being sought, but given the results of his investigation, he imagined the syndicate had people lining up to get his head. 'Ahh well, perks of the job I suppose. Intelligence is not the place to be if you want to win friends and influence people.' he thought wryly as he looked over the repair and refit schedules. He was giving some idle thought to going back down to Engineering when the Comm chirped to life. The duty Communications Officer told him he had a priority message. Standing he asked her to transfer it to the Captain's ready room. Taking a seat he spoke his access code and watched the screen come to life: =^= Dan .... Good to see you again =^= =^= Sir =^= he replied expressionless, to the image of the Head of Star Fleet Intelligence. =^= Fancy a drink .. If you have the time of course .. I know you must be busy up there =^= =^= Thank you for the invite Admiral .. It's been a while .. But as you say .. I'm very busy .. Star Ships don't repair themselves .... Apparently =^= he said, hoping the sarcasm was coming across. =^= I 'could' make it an order Dan =^= the Admiral said. =^= Yes .. You could .. But I don't think you will ...... Besides I think we said everything we needed to when you were kicking me out the proverbial door =^= The man sat in silence for a long moment and Daniel had the distinct feeling he was listening to someone out of range of the screen, then he smiled: =^= You remember that little pub .. The Crown .. How does twenty one hundred hours sound ? =^= =^= Like I said Admiral .. Thanks for the invite but I'm ...... =^= =^= Our friends are back Daniel .. Twenty one hundred hours .. Don't be late =^= The Comm closed before he could say anything further. A chill went down his spine at the thought that the Keeluun Syndicate were back, especially given their thus far ignored threats to take their revenge out not only on the Intelligence Officer that had infiltrated their organization, but on the Federation itself ..... It had been more than a year now and Command had assumed they had either disbanded or had perished in the attack on their home base. Intelligence Officer's, along with Star Fleet Security had raided the facility and it was initially thought they had destroyed all the equipment and supplies found. No vessel was detected attempting to leave the vicinity, and the surviving scientist's had been taken and sentenced to life imprisonment in undisclosed, high security establishments. As far as he knew, they were still there ! Looking up at the chronometer he wondered if he should inform the Commodore of what had happened, but decided against it for the time being. After all, he had no idea what the Admiral was going to tell him, and given his treatment before arriving on the Excalibur, he honestly didn't care what the man had to say. It was their problem as far as he was concerned. He left the ready room and re-entered the Bridge: "Lieutenant, I'm going to the surface ...." he said, handing the woman several PADD's and turning to leave, "Check everything is on schedule, if there are any issues contact me. I shouldn't be more than an hour ... You have the Bridge." "Aye, Sir." she said, looking from the Commander, to the PADD's then back as the turbo-lift doors closed. After going to his quarters to change into civilian clothing Dan headed for the transporter room. He gave the co-ordinates to the Transporter Chief and stepped onto the platform. Seconds later he was stood opposite 'The Crown' .......... OOC :: Sorry for the ramble above. There could be a possible mission idea buried in my post. See what you think
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Karka Psonoir
Commander
Registered: Apr 9, 2013 19:55:13 GMT
Posts: 422
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Post by Karka Psonoir on Nov 22, 2014 11:29:52 GMT
Karka watched as the light faded from the power relays, the last of the plasma being transferred from the warp core through the PTCs to the nacelles. The Excalibur had arrived in drydock around Earth, the ship being powered down as it completed the final stage of its post-mooring operations. He stepped back, satisfied. "All yours, Lieutenant." He watched as Unwin passed him, nodding and moving to the master station to complete final transfer of power to the drydock, which supplied just enough power to allow a Constitution class starship to enter maintenance mode. In his office Psonoir made final arrangements to head to the surface. His mind was on his habitat in San Francisco again, those empty grey walls filling his consciousness with ideas of regret, solitude and wished for bliss. He'd effectively 'deleted' his family that had existed within that apartment from history, with his previous incursion before the start of the last Excalibur mission. It had been difficult to concentrate his mind in the aftermath of his assistance in transporting those quadrillion souls from the planet in the Ophiuchus system. Nerves and senses remained frayed, mental partitions and quantum dataflow regulators that formed a subterranean map of his mind were lowered in efficiency, causing him to stumble in his thought, stare into space seemingly inert for a while, as if he was an android in need of a reset. He took a shuttle down to the surface, it landing in clear view of the Golden Gate Bridge at the entrance to San Francisco Bay, not far from Starfleet Headquarters and the Academy. He'd been called to the Presidio to finally sign his name off from the Engineering Corps. "I hadn't expected you back so soon, Lieutenant." The familiar desk clerk commented as he removed Karka's name from the registry. Karka shrugged, "The Excalibur answered the distress call... It was quicker and I daresay stranger than we expected." He strode the city streets, stepping down a wide boulevard that rose steeply to the horizon. The sloping street was lost in a sepia haze filled with humanoid figures - mirages melting in the midday heat. He breathed the air; this was the second time he'd returned to the humans' homeworld since he'd departed the Excalibur and sojourned in the 27th century for 200 years, 'til it had caught up with his own contemporary Hybrudean age of the 29th, in which was located his home Archive, his best friend or rather acquaintance Lirwa and his long-estranged - by optional order of Hybrudean society - carrier-donor (Hybrudean equivalent of mother). OOC: As much as I can write for now, got to go, away until Sunday evening
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Daniel Schirra
Captain
Registered: Apr 8, 2013 21:02:47 GMT
Posts: 468
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Post by Daniel Schirra on Nov 22, 2014 16:46:46 GMT
The shuttle ride to the surface was uneventful, not that he would have noticed either way ... Events from almost a year ago were flooding back to the forefront of his mind, and he wasn't too happy about it. Truth be known, he had been opposed to serving on a Star Ship, let alone in the capacity of an Officer and not a member of the Intelligence community. But as time had passed, and he had been accepted as the Excalibur's First Officer, he had settled into the role, and had, up to today, almost put his former career behind him. He hadn't been happy with the outcome of the investigation that was carried out. Some people preferred to drop the blame for the failure firmly in his lap, but it was a series of events beyond his control that messed everything up, and making him flee for his life. The fact that in his mind, there was overwhelming evidence that 'someone' connected to Star Fleet was involved, and the fact that Trost thought his suggestion was ludicrous, only managed to get him thrown into space and out of the proverbial way: He had never quite believed that the woman who was supplying their information, and the funds to pay for 'outside' help, was the one in charge ..... Yes, she had a lot of power, and made decisions, but Dan always had the nagging feeling, call it intuition, that she was more the figurehead rather that the one pulling the strings. His fist tentative proof came when he had followed the woman back to the Sheraton Hotel close to the Academy Campus, where she had gone to the seventieth floor. He had sat quietly waiting for her to return, and his patience had paid off ... He had been about to give up when she emerged from one of the high speed lifts with a man. Dan watched the two but never managed to get a good look at her companion, but he did see one thing ... The man's uniform and rank !
He had taken this information to Admiral Trost, the Head of Star Fleet Intelligence, but he had dismissed the information out of hand. Despite his insistence that the Admiral was involved, Trost would hear non of it. It was then that Daniel stepped over the unseen line .....
Using his position, he had returned to the Sheraton and gained access to the room the woman had previously gone to. Frustrated at finding nothing he could use, the nagging worry as to 'why' Trost had dismissed his information began to override his professionalism. He sat at the computer terminal and pulled up the security logs for that day. Hardly surprisingly, there was nothing for the floor he was on, nor any images of the man accompanying the woman. He began to suspect that Trost knew more than he was telling, so he began to dig ..... That, alas, was a mistake !
Thirty minutes later, he found himself stood in front of the Admiral ...... The man, to say the least, was annoyed, but more disappointed than anything, that his best operative could have suspected his involvement with the Keeloon Syndicate. Despite Daniel's protestations, the Admiral would hear nothing of his accusations. He was told he would take a 'Leave of Absence' from Intelligence and would be assigned to serve on the Excalibur. This only served to strengthen his resolve at proving that a Star Fleet Admiral was on the syndicate's payroll, but even in the weeks it took the ship to return to Earth, every lead he followed went nowhere and eventually he had to board the ship and leave his enquiries behind .......... The shuttle landed at Star Fleet Headquarters and he stepped out into the bright summer sunlight. He didn't have time to enjoy the view as a man approached him: "Commander Schirra .... The Admiral is waiting for you. If you wouldn't mind coming this way, I have transport waiting." Dan didn't argue, just followed the man in silence. Ten minutes later he was stood outside 'The Crown' ... The man motioned towards the door and the two entered ... Dan had always liked the 'olde world' pub, a throw-back from three hundred years earlier, It's low beamed ceilings and solid timber tables. Trost was sat in one of the booths waiting. As Dan sat, the Lieutenant took a seat at the nearby table, the barman placed a drink in front of Dan then vanished from sight, leaving the two to talk. "Glad you decided to take me up on my invite Dan." the Admiral said, raising his glass and waiting for Schirra to follow suit, "We parted on let's say, less than amicable terms, and I thoroughly regret that. But you were looking in the wrong place and it was beginning to rattle some very influential cages." "My heart bleeds." Dan said, sarcasm oozing from every syllable as he drained his glass, only to see it replaced as quickly. "That's understandable ....." Trost said, almost shrugging at the situation, "But our problem has apparently re-emerged, and your lets say 'unique' insight is sorely require. Before you get on your high moral ground and tell me I threw you out the door, I know what I did, and given your actions, I don't regret it for a second, so stow you're bleeding heart ... We have acquired information that the Keeloon Syndicate had reappeared. A minor outpost failed to make their scheduled report, we had a ship in the area so diverted it to go take a look. Sixty eight dead from craylon gas poisoning ... The complex was untouched, the computers hadn't been accessed and all information was intact, which makes us think it was a test." Dan lifted the drink from the table, his face neutral. He knew Trost was giving him what he needed to, but frankly he didn't care. He was no longer Intelligence, so by definition, it wasn't his problem. As for his 'unique' insight, Trost made it perfectly clear that it was flawed. So sod them ! "Has Commodore Ryat asked about your former profession yet ?" Dan looked up at the poorly veiled threat, wondering if Trost was getting desperate: "My records are there for anyone with clearance to see." he said, raising the empty glass for a refill, "Well, apart from the sections you redacted of course." Trost sat silent and poker-faced, as if he was holding a straight flush and was trying his hardest to make his opponent raise. "I could always release the information ......" Dan shrugged, downing the third glass of excellent whiskey before placing the glass down carefully. "Suit yourself." he said, turning to leave as the man stood and blocked his way. Dan stared him down until he turned to glance at Trost before stepping aside allowing Schirra to leave. "You think he'll coma back and work for us ?" the man asked. Admiral Trost smiled before picking up one of the old fashioned menu's ..........
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Alyana Ryat
Commodore
Registered: Sept 5, 2007 16:34:56 GMT
Posts: 347
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Post by Alyana Ryat on Nov 24, 2014 22:33:17 GMT
Aly and Jenni had spent several hours wandering round various shops. Jenni had left with a selection of tops in a wide variety of colours. Aly had been rather more restrained, she had just two items in her shopping bag. One was a small crystal statuette of what the shopkeeper had called a dolphin, the other was a dress that was almost the same shade of red that Aly had worn as a communications officer, it was made out of a smooth fabric that managed to fit and drape. Unlike her old uniform it was sleeveless with a flowing skirt that came just past her knees.
After reaching the end of the first wind of shopping Aly and Jenni settled in to a small café to have some sandwiches and coffee. The two of the decided that demons had definitely been put to rest and there were many other things to do. It was in the midst of this that Aly received a notification that she should attend a small dinner gathering at Starfleet HQ. This was stand for all commanding officers arriving. She sighed and returned to the Excal to get changed in to her dress uniform. This was supposed to be a formality but it certainly made her a little nervous.
It was 18:00 when she arrived for the dinner. There were four other ship commanding officers present and the whole event was much less stressful that she had thought it would be. There was a camaraderie amongst those who commanded ships and this was simply a way to give them a chance to relax.
Three hours later Aly found herself leaving Starfleet headquarters and to her surprise she saw Commander Schirra in the grounds ahead of her. She waved and approached at a jog, grateful that she had gone for dress uniform rather than civilian formal wear.
“I didn’t expect to see you here. Are you enjoying your shoreleave?”
Tag: Dan
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Daniel Schirra
Captain
Registered: Apr 8, 2013 21:02:47 GMT
Posts: 468
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Post by Daniel Schirra on Nov 25, 2014 1:08:42 GMT
Stepping into the bright Californian sunshine, he began to walk back towards the city ... He was in no hurry, and if truth be know he wanted the time to calm down. He wasn't comfortable with being threatened or bullied, and the fact that Admiral Trost had tried both in the last hour was grating on his every nerve !
He wasn't worried about Trost or what he thought he could do. Granted, he 'could' recall him back to Intelligence, but he doubted he would be so stupid. No, he wanted Dan's help and had gone about asking for it the wrong way. It hadn't gone unnoticed that he was hinting at using the Excalibur for whatever plans he had, though he seriously doubted Ryat would allow that to happen ... An hour later he reached the center of the city and Star Fleet Headquarters. He wanted to track someone down and that couldn't be done from any of the public information terminals spread throughout the city. He was heading for the main building when he noticed Commodore Ryat walking across the quad:
"I didn't expect to see you here ..... Are you enjoying your shore leave ?" she asked ... Dan looked the woman up and down.
"Special occasion ?" he replied to deflect the question while pointing at the dress uniform.
"Oh, this, yes ... Some formal meeting I've been dragged to. I almost invited you but you were already off the ship."
"Right, well I won't keep you Commodore." he said, turning to walk away, but Ryat spoke again, forcing him to turn around.
"You didn't say ...... If you were enjoying your shore leave. I hope there's nothing wrong."
"You'll be late." he said, turning and walking away ......
~~~~~
He took the long way around before back-tracking and entering Command. He went to one of the side offices and closed the door behind him. sitting at the terminal he entered his access code and requested information on the whereabouts of Commander Michael Dent, the man he worked closest with during his time in Intelligence ... He wasn't surprised to find there was no record of the man, so Dan entered his 'other' access code, the one from his former occupation, knowing it would not have been de-activated ... The screen lit up with an image of the man in question and his last known address.
"Venice." Dan said, grinning, "You always said you would move there once you got out of the business." Instructing the computer to delete any record of his access to the records he left the room and went across to the transport office on the second level, he needed to get over to Italy but didn't want anyone knowing where he'd gone. Of course, Trost could find out easily enough should he feel the need to, but Dan had the feeling he was being followed closely, so he would need to be careful. He asked the Transport Chief when the next shuttle was going up to the station, and luckily it was leaving within minutes. He took his seat and waited to see who boarded behind him.
One man, two women ..... So, it was a given that one of these were there to keep an eye on him. He sat in silence as the shuttle lifted and headed skywards, five minutes later he was on the orbital space station in high geostationary orbit above San Francisco. He headed for the transporter pads and asked to be sent back to the Excalibur, effectively loosing his observer. Materializing, he told the chief to inform the hanger bay he was on his way and to prepare a shuttle ...
Keeping the space-dock cradling the Excalibur between him and the station, he moved away from the ship. Happy the small craft wouldn't be seen by anyone looking out through the observation ports, he yawed the shuttle into a shallow fall towards the planet below. 'For someone not interested in what the Admiral had to say, you are certainly failing miserably' he thought wryly .... Ten minutes later he was at the Hotel Cipriani.
If anyone could give him the information Trost was keeping from him, Michael could .....
~~~~~
He couldn't simply walk up to the door and say 'hello' because he had the distinct feeling his unexpected appearance wouldn't go down well, so he found a café and settled in for a long wait. He had no idea if Dent was home or out, he dared not enquire because it would have triggered numerous flags and the man would be off-world before Dan finished his cappuccino ! ... So it was a waiting game ... Two hours later he spotted the man approaching. He waited until he was close enough to recognize Dan without the usual fight or flight reaction, then as he neared the café Dan spoke:
"Long time no see." he said casually. Dent spun to face him as Dan raised both hand into the air in mock surrender, "You're looking well ... For a dead man." ..........
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Karka Psonoir
Commander
Registered: Apr 9, 2013 19:55:13 GMT
Posts: 422
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Post by Karka Psonoir on Nov 29, 2014 1:28:16 GMT
Psonoir's apartment lay up a steep rise in the Ashbury Heights. Greenery interspersed everywhere gave the place an ethereal glow, resonating and reflecting the early afternoon light as Sol arced across the city towards its final resting place beyond the depths of the ocean. It was as if a forest had burst from amongst the suburbs and sun-bleached habitats of the city.
His apartment's bleached white walls stood stark but with an unusual excellence against the rich unblemished sky. He climbed the steps to the top floor apartment, finding that the place had been renovated, refurbished in his absence. He grinned at the thought as he ascended the steps; for all he knew the place might have been demolished - or transported off this world and put in raw material storage for use elsewhere. A new building may have been constructed in its wake - the one on which he might be standing - and a template design lowered in on magnetic construction devices, a shell of a structure to be filled out with representations of the life experience of the new occupant.
There was no such person, as it turned out. After a brief chirp of the outer access panel, Karka let himself into his old abode - where once a child had cried and a mother had worked with her practiced dignity, dignity she'd considered in the absence of her false husband a matter of principle to uphold. They'd been his inventions: resultant beings dragged out from certain causal improbabilities of the past, now spirited away in an invasive, even cruel quirk of future interference by Karka's people. Or by Karka himself, if he was being honest.
He felt no regrets. Beings could be willed into existence in a particular timeframe and taken away again at will. It was common practice: the family could come back with all their old memories; smiling faces ready to greet him upon his return from some unknown and - to them - uncared for cosmic adventure.
Karka's mildly eccentric reserve, disinterest in these remnants he'd brought forth from an improbable past, these curious physical manifestations as a result of his tampering with space time, when he'd experienced much else in between; he'd be greeted coldly by his wife, her accusing eyes unjustly punishing him for being away for so long from his child. Although if she knew the truth that he'd been absent for 200 years in Hybrudean space - not four months on a mission for Starfleet - perhaps she'd have a point...
He placed his items on the kitchen counter, drumming his knuckles, wondering if he should try to make a home out of this environment again. The place remained grey and placid, its stripped interior reflecting - where his family was concerned - the stripped interior of his mind. They no longer occupied any segment of his mind; it wouldn't be long before they were ejected from his consciousness, the Evokes assisting his mind so that it didn't lose its place in its perceptual reality, become enamoured by its immediate environment and his false role as a human engineer in Starfleet and lose his sense of true self.
His child had been dying. A quick and easy fix to delete him from history, he thought, as he wandered into the bathroom. The place had been sterilised, shining surfaces, but somehow still seemed dilapidated as if he was projecting his thoughts into visible phenomena in his surroundings.
A chirp of his commbadge mildly surprised him out of his ruminations. He flipped the device open, this particular model - courtesy of the Engineering Corps - being retrofitted with a visual display feed. He put the device by the sink as he washed his hands, "Commander, how pleasant to see you."
"And you, Karka..." the gold-collared officer on the visual feed frowned, "What's that noise?"
"Water. You wanted something, sir?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, this isn't a courtesy call. We'd like you to take a ride back down to the Presidio. There are some people who'd like to speak with you." Psonoir tried to keep the internal glib of frozen horror from his face. "Nothing to worry about, Lieutenant. Some inconsistencies in your recent movements have been identified, that's all. They just want to know what you were doing in intervening periods between USS Excalibur missions.
"Also, unrelated issue," the Commander leant closer, causing Karka to lean further over the sink 'til the communicator encompassed his vision (he'd been brushing his teeth). Not missing a beat, the Corps officer continued, "A few Intelligence officers are about the building. Not sure what they want; they rarely come by the Corps building unless it's on official business or if they're engaged in covert operations - in which case we wouldn't be seeing them roaming the corridors."
"I'll be there shortly," Karka said, casting the temporal-bubble-preserved holophoto of his child into the pristine bath and departing his former apartment.
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Daniel Schirra
Captain
Registered: Apr 8, 2013 21:02:47 GMT
Posts: 468
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Post by Daniel Schirra on Nov 29, 2014 2:33:24 GMT
"Long time no see." he said casually as Dent spun to face him. Daniel raised both hand into the air in mock surrender, "You're looking well ... For a dead man." .....
"It's how I prefer things .... How did you find me ?"
"Oh, I've known where you were for a while, I just didn't have any reason to pop in for a chat, well, before now anyway ....." Dan said, lowering his arms and sitting down, "Has Trost been looking for you ?"
"Why would he ?" Dent retorted, pouring drinks for them and handing Schirra a glass.
"No reason I suppose, it's just that as you know, he threw me out a while ago. Stuck me on the Excalibur ... To be honest I'm quite liking the assignment, which believe me is more a shock to me than you." he said as Dent made an over the top facial expression, "My point is, I had kind of thought I was done with Intel, but now it seems Trost has other idea's. So what I need to know is, what is he up to ? .......... And before you decide to play dumb, we both know you have you're finger on the proverbial 'pulse' of all things Intel, so lets not dance around this, I really don't have much time before my shadow's reappear."
"I did hear he was under some sort of review, something to do with the Keeloon issue. it was never resolved to the satisfaction of the 'higher-ups' and he is looking to regain his former credibility. I hear those people have resurfaced too, but that's rumour only." dent says, before turning to his guest, "Hold on, that's why he want's you ! .... If he can get you back on board, he'll deflect any flack that would land in his lap if he can blame it on you ... Gotta admire the man for his persistence I suppose."
For the next hour the two talked, sometimes about the issue at hand, sometimes re-hashing their old experiences together, but eventually Dent got the word:
"They are here." he said simply. Dan finished his drink then stood, Dent led him to the back of the café and the two men waiting. They confirmed that two people were now watching the front but as yet neither had thought to go around the back. One of the men leaned in, speaking quietly to Dent without taking his eyes off Schirra. Once done he went through the door, returning a moment later with the 'all clear' so his employer could go through ... Dent looked at his friend for a few long seconds before taking his arm and leading him into the sunlight at the back of the café.
"You'll be going back to San Francisco I presume ?"
Dan shrugged. He had come here on a hunch hoping to get something he could use against Trost, not that is was likely, but he was annoyed not to get anything at all .... Resigning himself to the fact he would need to look elsewhere he bade farewell to Dent and nodded at his admittedly impressive security, then turning he walked away, but Dent spoke once more:
"A couple of things before you go ........ It's highly likely that the Keeloon Syndicate 'are' back and continuing their little games. Secondly, and I'm not too sure how you will react to this, but it seems our former employers are sniffing around Star Fleet Command .... That said, have you any thoughts on why they would ask Officer's back to Command on short notice ?"
"Why would I ... Besides, if you are 'out of the loop' as you said, how come you have information on the whereabouts of Officers ?" Dan said, stopping and turned back to Dent. But the man simply shrugged as if the question wasn't something he needed an answer to one way or the other.
"It just seems funny to hop back to the Academy complex on a whim ... Don't you think ?" Dent asked, shrugging again. Dan watched him as if he was suddenly going to get more answers, but Dent had suddenly lost interest. Turning away, he started to re-enter the café but offered a parting comment, "Although unexpected, it was nice to see you again old friend, but for both our sakes, let's not keep in touch eh." Schirra watched him disappear and then looked at the two guards watching him closely. He had no option but to walk away .... Ten minutes later he was in the shuttle and heading for San Francisco ..........
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Karka Psonoir
Commander
Registered: Apr 9, 2013 19:55:13 GMT
Posts: 422
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Post by Karka Psonoir on Dec 1, 2014 22:54:01 GMT
It'd been a simple matter of acquitting himself of any wrongdoing in between his two Excalibur missions. Such was the nature of his movements between those assignments - shifting forwards and backwards in spacetime, squirming away from any prying eyes - that he was easily able to explain away any of the inconsistencies, that may have arisen as a result of inaccurate calculations in his modifications of the timeline. The history he'd fabricated to fill the gap between the Excal missions was real enough in this timeline that any unpredicted causal side-effects could more than be dismissed by the inquiry board he'd just faced.
"Well, that was a real pain in the..." he commented, trailing off as he exited through the scarlet doors and fell in alongside Commander Het'Ress - the officer he'd communicated with from his apartment earlier.
Het'Ress smirked, knowing Psonoir well enough to recognise when he was being sarcastic. "Well, what did I tell you? Nothing to worry about." They passed by a black-suited intelligence operative, veering to the side to keep the man at at least a 2 metre radius from them.
Intel agents continued to roam the Engineering Corps - undisguised, and therefore with an apparently disclosed motive.
"It makes me uneasy..." Het'Ress remarked, Karka looking across at him questioningly as they glided down the corridor and through another set of scarlet doors. A table dominated the room, an angular viewscreen display set into the far wall. Karka stepped up to the table, surveying place cards. Clearly a meeting of Engineering Corps officials - rather high-level, he saw - was in planning. While he was no longer a member of the Corps, he still had certain friends here that may have secured a place for him.
"I don't like being watched like this..." Het'Ress said, pacing back and forth, "A shadowy organisation you hear nothing about except through the official channels..." He spat the words almost, "Some achieved objective to be lauded, a report on successful infiltration of mercenary operations or even quadrant powers... I can't understand their sudden interest in the Corps, Karka. And it's not just here... Other Starfleet organisations in San Francisco and elsewhere on Earth have reported similar activity."
Karka rose an eyebrow, sliding into his designated seat for the conference. Without a word he accessed the public communications logs of Starfleet ships and installations situated in and around Sol. Reading quickly (Commander Het'Ress looking on in bemusement) he quickly recognised a pattern, his enhanced intelligence assisting the search: All the installations that had reported the overt presence of Starfleet Intel - surface buildings, orbital drydocks, sections of Earth Spacedock itself - were currently occupied by USS Excalibur personnel, primarily the ship's senior officers.
It was starting to make sense. All the implications were disconcerting to say the least. Karka wiped his brow, unexpected sweat having manifested there. He sat back in the chair, gazing up at the perplexed Het'Ress, "Starfleet Intel are tracking the movements of the USS Excalibur's senior officers."
Het'Ress's mouth opened in surprise, "What - ?"
"With the exception," Karka held up a hand, as he leant forward again to read the comm logs, "Daniel Schirra, Excalibur XO." He tensed his muscles involuntarily, at first not having realised the portent of his words. Schirra was Intelligence. Psonoir ran the permutations, possibilities through his mind rapidly....
Had the XO fallen back into old ways: intelligence officer first, line officer on a starship second? Was he investigating his own crew? Starfleet Intel breeded paranoia, suspicion of others' movements... Even those within their own organisation were watched closely. Repressed minds, for so long keeping their emotions trapped so that anything positive - thoughts of pleasure, humanism, love etc - were corrupted, twisted, channelled into darker avenues.
On the other hand, it was possible Schirra had been better able to conceal his movements and thus avoid Intel's prying into the Excal altogether. But why had Intel chosen to track the others - Karka included - so blatantly and openly? There were too many variables... Psonoir could only speculate: it was possible that Schirra was involved in this in some way beyond Karka's understanding.
"Anyway, the briefing's due to begin," Het'Ress announced suddenly, evidencing his surprise at Karka's withdrawn state. Minutes later a rabble of red-shirted officers entered the room, the most prominent being an officer of Commodore rank.
The lights were dimmed as they all took their seats. Het'Ress sat next to Karka, leaning back in his chair, hand rubbing at his chin and grinning conspiratorially at the Hybrudean. The Commodore stood before the viewscreen as it burst into life, illuminating only the faces of the officers.
"Mr Psonoir?" the Commodore called out. "You're present I presume?"
Karka leant forward clearing his throat, "Yes, sir."
"Good. This, to some degree... is about you." The viewscreen, an orbital view of a part of Earth's surface, zoomed in from an area of jungle to a sprawling complex situated in the midst of a scorched brown clearing. "This is the Amazonian rainforest. We'd like you to go there immediately, Karka. It's optional, of course, considering you're no longer part of the Corps, but this was to be your next assignment before you chose to join the Excalibur."
What is this? Karka thought, Are they trying to protect me? Or... do they want me out of the way? He looked back at Het'Ress, who was leering at him with the same conspiratorial grin, as if he was frozen in time repeating the same odd motion like some actor in a surrealist film.
"The Starfleet engineers there are having trouble maintaining the installation's computer core. Without it the data collected from the resident scientists' biological project will be lost."
Karka nodded, more to himself than to the Commodore. He steepled his fingers, "Very well..."
The meeting progressed to its finish, details of the operation being worked out. "A request, Commodore," Karka said as the officers filed out, "I wish to take Commander Het'Ress with me, sir." Het'Ress watched the exchange from a distance, sat on the edge of the table seemingly amused.
The Commodore hesitated. Impossible to detect with ordinary human perception perhaps; but it was certainly there. "No, Lieutenant... I need Het'Ress here. Besides he'd become the operation's senior officer. We assigned this operation to you because you have the requisite expertise in resolving such issues. Good luck, Lieutenant." The Commodore shook his hand briefly, before making an awkward departure.
"I see... Thank you, sir." After some minutes, Karka followed the Commodore out of the room and made his way to the designated transporter station.
<Tag All>
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Daniel Schirra
Captain
Registered: Apr 8, 2013 21:02:47 GMT
Posts: 468
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Post by Daniel Schirra on Dec 3, 2014 1:48:31 GMT
Landing the shuttle, he mulled over what Dent had said, or rather what the man hadn't said to be more precise, as he left the space port .... Dan wasn't one to allow things to overtake him, he had spent enough of his time in his initial training and on bona fide assignments to let the unresolved remain so for long. Finding a quiet bar he sat himself in a corner and asked the young lady serving to get him a large brandy. Returning with the drink she offered a little 'small talk' but for once, he wasn't in the mood and smiled one of those deadpan 'thanks but no thanks' smiles. Pointing out that he shouldn't ignore the proverbial gift-horse, she wiped the table and left him to his thoughts .....
That Trost was planning something was a given. The fact that the syndicate had reappeared was obviously connected with that, which in turn explained, albeit tentatively, why he had managed to suddenly bump into Schirra. But why the subterfuge, why not go to Commodore Ryat and let her see what information he had, or better still, go to Command and simply assign the Excalibur ?
Three tables away, a young couple sat down, all hand-holding and ear-whispering ... It didn't fool Dan for a second and he waved his erstwhile date over and asked her to take a bottle of the bars best champagne over to them, and not the synthesized gut-rot but a bottle of the real thing. He sat watching the sun lazily make it's way past one of the branches of the tree outside and waited. The couple, playing the 'newly-wed' card worthy of an Oscar nomination raised their freebie glasses and asked if he wanted to join them. Obviously, Dan politely declined the invitation, wishing them all the best for the future, but stolidly remaining in his seat. 'Amateurs' he thought with an inward grin as the two suddenly found themselves with no script to play out. Grinning, he turned his attention to what was going on in the 'non-spy' world ... Thus far, he had the fact that Trost had conveniently found Dan on Earth, Dent knew more than he was willing to admit, and someone had sent 'rent-a-spy' out to keep tabs on him. Well at least on that count he decided not to get them into trouble, so ordered a refill.
Dent had hinted that Trost had more information, and that he was, if not directly, keeping his eager eyes on certain members of the Excalibur Command Staff, but why, this was the thing Dan couldn't understand. On a whim he decided to ask for a portable terminal and entered his 'real' access. He asked for the current whereabouts of the Excalibur crew, skipping through the lower ranks and concentrating on Lieutenant and above. At this point nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but then again, how would he know ....... He looked at the Command Staff and almost skipped past one unusual notation ... the Chief Engineer had left the ship and come to the surface, but then, he had suddenly transported to the Amazon ! ... 'What the hell would he go there for ?' Dan wondered, requesting the beam in co-ordinates ... Amacayacu ... National Park situated on the Amazon river. Dan looked around and found a PADD on the end of the bar, borrowing it for a moment he accessed the data on the region and was as much in the proverbial dark as he had been before his little investigation had begun. The pace was a nowhere, almost three thousand square kilometers of nothing but rancid water and clinging cloying trees. So it beggedthe obvious question:
"What was he going there for ?" he said to himself.
He decided he would have to play the game and go see Trost .......
~~~~~
"I'm sorry Sir, but he is unavailable ..... As I said, he has various appointments and meeting's throughout the day." the Adjutant said stiffly, dismissing Schirra by the mere act of looking down at the paperless desk and pointedly ignoring any further enquiries.
Dan tapped his Comm badge:
=^= Commander Schirra to Admiral Trost =^= he said authoritatively, and received nothing in return. He looked back at the Adjutant who seemed amused at the fact he had been proved right before he returned his attention to the polished desk top.
"Try not to get too cocky Commander. You know the old saying 'Pride comes before a fall' etcetera etcetera." Dan said, turning and leaving the man's office.
In the street he casually scanned for anyone who may be following him, keeping tabs, as Trost liked to call it, and sure enough he spotted two people who were doing their best to be doing 'anything' but watching a Star Fleet Commander. Looking left and right as if deciding on a direction to take, he chose the one that would take him directly past the young couple, who now seemed to be playing the role of lost 'sight-seers' ... As he approached the girl made to ask him where one or other point of interest was situated, but he just grinned and spoke without breaking stride:
"I am going back to that little pub. They have some excellent brandy. See you both there I assume ?"
Walking off he grinned to himself, not bothering to look if his shadows were on his tail ...... Thirty minutes and three brandy's and three shadows later, he was still mulling over Psonoir's sudden trip to Colombia ..........
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Karka Psonoir
Commander
Registered: Apr 9, 2013 19:55:13 GMT
Posts: 422
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Post by Karka Psonoir on Dec 3, 2014 8:36:34 GMT
Karka traipsed down the broken stone pathway from the transporter pad, heading towards the river. As he understood it, this area had been designated for natural conservation almost three centuries ago, when the inhabitants of Earth had still been young and had yet to turn their minds to matters of the cosmic.
Lirwa was the expert, but Psonoir did know at the time of the park's foundation the human race had only just developed manned spaceflight - to nearby planetary and satellite bodies. Little had changed in the conservation area since. Lush vegetation bordered a shining lake (rather an expansion in the river), beneath which - Karka noticed as he got closer - swarmed indistinguishable masses of grey-green matter. Likely algae, local salmonae and oligochaetes species that the conscientious people of Earth had seen fit to preserve through their subjective centuries. This river was apparently dominated by such species.
A junior tech was calling from behind him, deciding perhaps that the Starfleet engineer seemed a little lost, "Left, on the hill. This side of the river, sir." Karka waved thanks and moved on, pulling his carry case up further up his shoulder.
The research facility - hidden from view of most orbital observatories, partly due to its entrenched location amongst tropical forestry on the hilltop the tech had described - had its highest level peeking above the vibrant green shrubbery. It twinkled in the sunlight. Karka sighed, looking about him, feeling a measure of contentment as certain aspects of his surroundings recalled for him certain places he'd visited, events that'd transpired in his time-defying life. He heard the songs of birds and the energetic swirls of the river; cries of airborne wildlife as it swept the sky in search of some mythical golden palace; the tender touch of the wind as it brushed his faux-human skin. Perhaps this was what his shore leave was supposed to have been about.
He entered the facility, three other engineers in tow. He was uncertain what he'd find. An innocent maintenance problem? A trap? His mind was overworking itself, building theories upon already shaky foundations - taking those premises that initially seemed outlandish and constructing thought on them as if they were the absolute truth.
The team set their equipment down and were set upon by a lively looking middle-aged man in blue overalls, approaching quickly and offering handshakes, "Commander! How brilliant to see you. Doctor Irving, head of research at this facility. You'll find the computer core on level 7... Obviously your primary objective here," he smiled. "Temporary quarters have been arranged for you and your men on level 3..."
"Wait one moment, sir. You called me Commander?" Psonoir lowered the last of his equipment and stood to regard the enthusiastic man.
"Oh, you're not Commander Het'Ress? I was - We were, expecting him..." The man seemed perplexed for a moment before his expression became lively again. "Not to worry. Lieutenant...? Psonoir. And your acquaintances? Smith and Minassian." He shook hands with the bemused officers. "Right, got it. This way please."
* * *
"This could be quite bad... quite bad," Dr Irving paced back and forth, "I was expecting Het'Ress... We've been in regular contact over the last week and he assured me he'd be heading up the team to fix the computer core - else we'll lose all our research you see..."
Psonoir watched from the table, eyes tracking Irving as he stepped nervously about the windowless room. Irving had assured Karka that all surveillance devices - visual and audial - in the room had been disabled. "My engineers and I are more than capable - "
"No, Lieutenant!" Irving came to a stop before him, slamming a fist on the table. There was a sudden crazed expression in his eyes, "Let me make you understand. The Engineering Corps Commodore who ordered you here... he's corrupt in some way, I don't know the specifics. And it would seem Het'Ress is guilty, too. It's the only explanation. They've sent you instead of him."
"That much is obvious," Karka pursed his lips to avoid smiling, although he felt a pang of distress at the thought that Het'Ress had betrayed him, if he'd ever been on his side. He knew of course that the reason he'd been sent was because he was an Excal crewmember. They wanted him out of the way, fixing some minor fault, while they investigated his background... Or perhaps they thought he was getting too close to learning some truth. "My engineering expertise was deemed necessary in order to fix the fault in your computer core."
"There is no fault in our computer core!" Irving squeaked. "It was a ruse on our part to get Het'Ress - who we'd thought was getting closer to digging out the corruption - hidden from the Commodore and whoever else is in on this, whatever it is... I have connections in rather high places you see..." Irving grew tired, the light wrinkles in his face seeming to become more pronounced; he took the spare seat at the table, the otherwise unfurnished room lending the place a sombre glow. He looked up at Karka, "The person we're now hiding, rather than Het'Ress, is you."
Psonoir flipped his tricorder casing open and shut compulsively as he watched the scientist, "Yes. And not only do they want me out of the way lest I find out what they're up to, facilitated by this clever ruse of yours..." he chose his words carefully, mindful of not mentioning the word intel. "It is actually me, and others of my shipmates on the USS Excalibur, who are being investigated."
"Why, and by whom?"
Karka shook his head, regarding his notes. Something of this puzzle had to fit together, and no help from his 29th century compatriots could come this time. There was a chirp at the door. Irving shot up from the table, raising the light level and opening the door a crack, "Ah, it's you. Come in."
"Lieutenant Hearan!" Psonoir made a rare exclamation. The red-shirted man was a security officer from the Excal, formerly one of Karka's engineers. "You're hiding here as well?"
Hearan made his way lackadaisically towards the table, his typical laidback yet taciturn manner evident. He was a curious sort: on first impression Karka had thought him as rather bookish, a man of few words but who seemed to carry this quiet confidence and assurance - all of which had manifested itself at the first engineering social event, where he'd revealed himself to be a man of rather wild character.
"Not exactly," the tactical officer said, "I'm here to protect you."
"Why are they investigating us? What have we done?" Psonoir asked.
"My guess..." Hearan spoke succinctly, leaning back in the chair that Irving had vacated. "Is that this is all a smoke screen. Intel are pretending to investigate us... To lull... someone, probably outside of Starfleet, into a false sense of security?" He shrugged at Karka's dark-eyed stare and at Irving, who still paced about the room looking ready to start pulling his hair out. "Just a guess."
<Tag All> - OOC: Sorry if that was at all confusing!
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Karka Psonoir
Commander
Registered: Apr 9, 2013 19:55:13 GMT
Posts: 422
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Post by Karka Psonoir on Dec 4, 2014 0:18:08 GMT
The barrier between a Hybrudean's conscious mind and his mental configuration's oscillation with the Standing Wave that straddled Hybrudean space across centuries was tenuous at the best of times.
It was easy for him to slip into one mode or the other: find himself lost upon the waves of a thousand memories and differing mental fronts - diving at him from multiple dimensions humans tentatively and abstractedly referred to as extra dimensions predicted by superstring theory - terminology that inferred lack of greater understanding of the wide expanses those dimensions occupied within the Hybrudean mindspace. His fellow vigilantes and others slid back and forth along the abstract highways connecting past, future and other dimensions not yet discovered by humankind.
It was also easy to fall into the trap of the falsely real: that varying but boxed space where the notion of time was fixed and it crawled at a particular rate (with disregard of relativistic concerns).
This was the place Karka found himself occupying now, trapped within this grey claustrophobic structure. A splayed-out reflection of his mind, it seemed to him - bleached, removed of meaning, of little interest now that it seemed the Evokes had abandoned him to it, and the messages from the future - as shocking as they had been brief at the conclusion of the last mission - had ceased their endless jesting and goading, their attempting to push him one way or the other in his rescue - of which he'd only been able to take partial credit - of Rriaa's people the Nnelli.
Perched on the top of the hill overlooking the valley in which ran the silvery Amazon, the grey structure was his hideout from the farseeing eyes of Starfleet Intelligence, and whoever else was caught up in their plans. Hunting down the Excalibur's senior staff...? Were Intel or the Engineering Corp, or corrupt elements in both, trying to recruit them? Was this a way for those organisations to research the Excal staff's backgrounds? Were they suspicious of Ryat's crew for some other reason, perhaps their association with the (perhaps former) Intel agent Commander Daniel Schirra.
Hearan could be right, Karka considered, leaning forward over a granite framed paneless window. It was two kilometres down to the murky quicksilver surface of the Amazonian river; a little more than that in terms of baryonic altitude. The Excal tactical lieutenant Hearan had pointed out that Intel could be attempting to use the Excal staff as what Psonoir understood humans called a 'red herring': keeping tabs on the officers - and their supposed past associations with Daniel Schirra - to make a possibly criminal external agency, one outside the Federation, believe it was being ignored by Starfleet Intel and could therefore act how at wished.
Psonoir bided his time. He studied the biochemical and horticultural data collected by the science team stationed here; he read the outpost's stock of Earth literature, finding some of it rather fulfilling, particularly the works of Gibson and Simmons, authors of the 20th century which he'd visited once; he enjoyed the company, in a platonic sense of a number of the female scientists and guests invited to the facility.
Without the spectre of corruption and intrigue that was Starfleet Intel presiding over him, this felt almost like shore leave as he'd imagined it should feel. Birds flitted about the luminous air, dotting the bright azure sky with their sepulchral nimbii. He watched them dive towards the river, impact the water and emerge shrieking, their cries echoing through the valley as they claimed their latest prey from the tropical depths.
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Daniel Schirra
Captain
Registered: Apr 8, 2013 21:02:47 GMT
Posts: 468
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Post by Daniel Schirra on Dec 4, 2014 21:58:47 GMT
Nursing another brandy he nodded to the young couple still playing tourist who had entered the pub about ten minutes after he had ..... Finally he made his mind up .....
'This might not be the best idea you have come up with Danny boy' he thought as he approached the table and the tourists. Sitting down he took the PADD off the girl before she could react. The open page was titled 'Places of Interest in San Francisco' ... Scrolling through he was surprised at how many of the places noted he hadn't actually seen and made a mental note to get to know the city a little better on his next visit. The young man had stood and was trying his hardest to tower over Daniel, and failing miserably, but not wanting to deflate the man completely he just asked him to sit back down in one of his more 'polite' tones.
"You should visit Fisherman's Wharf, oh, and Chinatown, they do some great street food down there." he said, handing the device back politely and waving the barman over to refresh his drink. not taking no for an answer when his two companions refused anything else, he told the barman to bring three more brandy's.
"I'm sorry, but you are intruding mister." the man said, still trying his hardest to be the one wearing the trousers.
"There's only two options here guys ......" Dan fell silent as the barman placed the drinks on the table and retreated to the bar, "You are either working for Admiral Trost, or for the Syndicate ..... Either way, you are beginning to grate on my last nerve, so I'm going to relieve you of the burden of following me further. I am going to finish this excellent brandy, then I'm going to my apartment. I'm guessing you have the address. One question before I go though, why are you even bothering, I've not worked for Trost for over a year, and we never got any concrete evidence on who the leaders of the Syndicate were. Them returning has less than nothing to do with me. If Trost wanted my help he could have simply gone to the Commodore and asked, or used one of those re-activation clauses the Federation are so fond of when asking doesn't work ... So, tell whoever you are working for that they can relax, because what I know isn't worth the effort or manpower they are putting into following me."
"Like I said mister ...." the woman began, but Dan had already drained his glass and was walking to the door, with a wave over his head he want out into the bright San Francisco sunshine.
He never saw the person about to hit him, and he was unconscious before he hit the floor ..........
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Karka Psonoir
Commander
Registered: Apr 9, 2013 19:55:13 GMT
Posts: 422
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Post by Karka Psonoir on Dec 7, 2014 6:03:41 GMT
Karka sat at a table in the open-air observatory, in an area given over to a cafe-type establishment - replenishment for the resident scientists who rotated in and out of the research facility every few months. He was alone, the warm yet humid breeze blowing through the paneless windows that looked out over the Amazonian valley into the establishment.
He drank his synthehol in silence, perusing a notepad before him, frowning occasionally as he crossed out a note and scribbled barely legible English - in roman characters - in the few gaps left.
He'd begun to have doubts about his safety here. While he trusted Dr Irving and the scientist's words seemed to have a certain validity, the anonymous Commodore (it struck Karka that he'd never been introduced to him) at the Engineering Corps would still know he was here, regardless of whether he thought it was to service a faulty computer core or to hide out from the Engineering Corps Commodore and his likely associate or associates in SF Intel.
The reasoning for the connection between the Corps Commodore and whoever was pulling strings at Intel was that, from their point of view, they'd sent Karka away - perhaps a means of cornering him. If this Intel figure was searching for the Excalibur's senior staff (for whatever end: to recruit them for some mission, or to ensure they weren't too close to Intel officer Schirra) he or she would now know Psonoir's exact location courtesy of this corrupt Corps Commodore. If Karka's return from this routine maintenance task, which was an invention of Irving's to get him into hiding anyway, was at all delayed, it may well confirm Intel's belief that he was indeed entering hiding.
On the other hand, an outside influence wasn't impossible, as Excal security Lieutenant Hearan had insightfully pointed out.
"Lieutenant! May I join you?"
Karka looked up from his synthehol musings to see Dr Irving, caught before a blazing white light of sky above the luminous greenery of the Amazon. Energy seemed to sparkle from his face. Karka rose, pulling out a seat for the middle-aged scientist, "Of course, Doctor. How are you? Would you like a drink?"
Irving leant forward, coughing, "No, I gave that stuff up years ago. Certain family members disapproved. Besides, consuming liquor doesn't exactly help in my research, nor scientific progress in general..."
"It's synthehol," Karka said. In the brief seconds before both men laughed a laser dot had begun meandering around the granite surfaces of the outdoors cafe. After roaming the floors, rising up the legs of chairs, it came to centre on the back of Dr Irving. Karka, seeing the beam of the laser as it caught particles of dust in the air - motes from the river, particles thrown into the air by Irving's taking of the seat - shouted a warning and dived across the table at the bemused scientist.
They crashed to the floor, two projectile shots resounding around the open-air cafe in a corner of the space opposite the paneless window, sending the few who were outside at their table scrambling for the doors and screaming.
"Security alert!" a guard who'd been posted at the entrance to the cafe's interior section slammed a panel by the door and the facility initiated a rapid process of lockdown, shutters lowering over the paneless windows, external entrances and exits having forcefields erected around them.
Karka picked himself up, checking the health of Dr Irving. "Your friends from the Corps?" the Doctor asked, choking on the dust rising from the holes the weapon projectiles had made in the rear wall of the outdoors cafe.
"Very possibly." He shot a glance towards the shutters, tracking the course of flight the bullets had taken using photographic memory. With the shutters down it was hard to pinpoint, but he believed he could narrow down the location of the shooters down to a 10 metre radius - a position in the forests on the other side of the valley.
He dusted himself down, casting about, debating his next move. He was surprised they'd got to him this quickly. The use of projectile weapons confused him, however, Intel could well do such a thing, to mislead the intended victims as to who had tried to remove them. "Get yourself inside, Doctor. Most secure location on possible."
"But they're after you, Karka!" Irving croaked, being dragged off by his security guard and Lieutenant Hearan.
"I know, but I have little choice. If I stay in the facility I'll still be trapped; it would only be a matter of time before whoever these people are get to me. I must leave; please have your men release one of the external doors." He scampered towards one of the doors that led from the cafe down the external steps to the forest floor immediately below the facility.
"This is madness, Karka. They'll have you as soon as you step through the exit!"
"North side. Open it." Karka looked back smiling, "Don't worry. I think I espied a way to the other side of the river upon my arrival here. One request, let me take Hearan with me. He's in as much danger as I am if he remains here. If we can both sneak out undetected there'll be no Excalibur crew for them to find when they arrive." Feeling confident in his plan, Karka, joined shortly by Hearan strode down towards the northern exit.
Watched from a cafe table - seemingly undisturbed by the recent events - was a man dressed in grey overalls, white and blue collar and sleeves (a standard Starfleet Science leisure uniform). He watched Karka's departure from above red-tinted glasses, smiling.
"Well, what did I tell you? Nothing to worry about..." he murmured, recalling a recent conversation. He waited 'til the external space was deserted, the last of the security back inside and the shutters lowered, then followed Psonoir and Hearan out the door five minutes later, just before the external forcefield was put back into place.
<TBC> <Tag Schirra>
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Alyana Ryat
Commodore
Registered: Sept 5, 2007 16:34:56 GMT
Posts: 347
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Post by Alyana Ryat on Dec 8, 2014 21:39:58 GMT
Aly was in her rooms at Starfleet Command when she received a notification that SCE had borrowed her CEO. In truth, she was a little surprised that Lieutenant Psonior didn't want to stay with the Excal while she was in dock. She had never met a Chief Engineer who would willingly hand over 'their' ship to anyone else. Still, it was up to him how he spent his shoreleave. She just hoped he would come back rested and refreshed after whatever it was they needed him for.
She knew the last mission had taken a lot out of her people and she hoped that this leave period let them all recover. She had laid some plans to explore a bit more of Earth. She was planning to spend the day seeing the sights in San Francisco and seeing how little she could use her universal translator, she was fluent 22 languages in addition to her native tongue but frankly she was out of practice.
Four hours later Aly had managed to get through eight different languages and was in the process of ordering her lunch in Andorian. That was a language she really hadn't had a chance to practise since Commander Zarath had left and either she had ordered a coffee and a toasted cheese and blue-tomato sandwich or she had made an offer to buy a medium sized rodent. The young waiter retreated to the kitchen without smiling so she hoped it was the former.
Aly looked around the restaurant. There was a medium height man with dark brown hair sitting on his own. He looked vaguely familiar. She couldn't immediately place him. But, as she sipped her coffee, no rodents involved, she realised that she had seen him near the bay and when she had been walking in the park. Of course there were plenty of people in San Francisco but it did make her wonder what was going on.
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Karka Psonoir
Commander
Registered: Apr 9, 2013 19:55:13 GMT
Posts: 422
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Post by Karka Psonoir on Dec 14, 2014 17:19:57 GMT
Karka and Hearan dived through the tropical undergrowth. The Hybrudean was delving into his archive-deposited memory banks for knowledge of this region... His mind drifted over centuries of knowledge: from journals, experience captured in still or moving images, from general, folk knowledge passed down through generations.
Experiencing a slight temporal dislocation in his investigations - upon witnessing some flicker of unexpected movement from the other side of the river - he was witness in his mind's eye to notebooks and parchments of related experience of this region from Earth's 16th century: foreign invaders in search of treasure, their heads full with the will to conquer. He signalled to Hearan - the two Excalibur officers felt harried, knowing they were being hunted for the reason that they belonged in reasonably senior positions on that vessel - to drop into the exotic shrubbery.
Karka watched the other side of the Amazon, from behind soaked reeds, the lower ones wavering in the shallows of the water by the riverside. He searched the vibrant greenery coating the uncertain line of trees that rose upwards through the valley, trying to espy that which he'd felt nagging him during his abstracted explorations of the past. He saw at least half a dozen figures clambering among the undergrowth, attempting to keep their course steady and parallel to the river as they followed the same course as Psonoir and Hearan. Difficult to tell from this distance, but it seemed they carried weapons: long rifles slung over their shoulders, dipping, rising and falling like pendulums.
"They don't seem like Starfleet Intelligence to me. Certainly not the Engineering Corps." Psonoir smiled, shaking his head.
"What?" Hearan slipped down the bank towards him, half involuntarily courtesy of his boots. "Sir, we've got to get out of here. Those... assassins won't be far away." Both officers despite their differing views of the situation thought it somewhat amusing that they here, two redshirted officers, beached beside the Amazon river, having just been under heavy fire and subjected to a possible assassination attempt by unknown intruders.
"Well, Lieutenant... They aren't far away." Karka smiled, almost grinning, peering closer at the sight across the river. He raised himself out of his observation point and climbed back up the slope to the haphazard path that'd apparently once existed along this bank.
Hearan glanced back at the river. "You're kidding?" he asked deadpan, almost as if it wasn't a question. "You saw them?" he said in the bookish manner Karka had come to expect from him.
"I certainly did. Whoever's chasing us they're not with Starfleet, or at least not in the employ of one its organisations." It chilled him to think that Intel could be using an external agency to carry out its work.
They scrambled back onto the overgrown path, directing their gazes to the north and to the other side of the river as they dashed between the branches of trees that outjutted into the path. Karka tried to espy the enemy behind the trees on the other side, expecting to see their assailants following his course. They might be assuming they hadn't been seen by the Starfleet officers and were searching for another place to set up whatever weapons they'd brought for the assassination. Perhaps they'd escaped to higher ground, thinking their progress would be hindered by heavy equipment and that they'd stand a better chance of pinpointing Psonoir and Hearan from the lip of the valley.
Either way, both officers agreed it was best they work their way back to the science facility, by a circular route that Karka knew existed: it led constantly left until it entered the back of the facility on the side of the building facing the upwards slope of this side of the valley. There they should be concealed from sight of whoever pursued them.
"I don't understand," Hearan said, panting behind him, "Why would they want to assassinate Dr Irving when it's us who were the primary targets?"
"I was considering that myself..." Karka rounded the bend developing the path, the facility growing closer to their left. "I can only think they knew their laser sight would be spotted and that the Doctor would be saved by whoever was sitting at the table with him: in the event, that was me. It was also the design. They gambled on my selflessness as a Starfleet officer - " Karka stumbled over this thought - the fact he hadn't become the victim of the assassination made him wonder just how selfless he was, considering he wasn't a true officer of Starfleet, "That I would preserve the Doctor's life and sacrifice my own, hence completing their goal."
"Clever," Hearan said, gasping from the pain developing in his gut. "With Irving apparently the intended target, these assassins can deny having had anything to do with wanting to kill USS Excalibur staff."
"Why are we being hunted though? That is the issue." They neared the back of the facility, blocked from view of the river, and were suddenly shot at. A phaser beam, scorching the tropical leaves hanging from the branches like luminous green diamonds, lanced diagonally across their position searing a black line across the facility's back wall.
In a fleeting moment before he was forced into cover, Karka saw the man from behind wavering reeds. They shuffled on hands and knees to the wall of the facility - concealed from the front by thick shrubbery. They were near one of the doors; Karka leant over, seeing the red light in the access panel and the heavy duranium shutters over the entrance.
"The facility's still on lockdown..." His mind whirled in confusion, the image of the man currently hunting them returning to him constantly like a series of snapshots, all reproductions of the same fixed glare from behind red-tinted glasses. All the information he'd been building of this scenario - his role in it, Dr Irving, the apparent assassins - was shunted into the analyses partition of his mind. "We've got to get back to the transporter station."
"Some 5km away, sir," Hearan reminded him.
"Yes but we have no choice. Irving knew about this all along. It was all planned." Karka almost and unusually seemed weary. "It was quite a risk on his part, I'll admit; if I hadn't seen the laser spot Irving would've been killed, but it's the only explanation for why he lied..."
"Don't tell me you know who's shooting at us now?"
"Yes. That's Commander Het'Ress, the 'Engineering Corps' officer who Irving had said he'd been expecting instead of me. Irving was lying that Het'Ress was not here. And Irving approached my table in the moments before the assassination, his part in the director's plan. Het'Ress's presence... Probably to ensure the assassination was carried out and take action if it wasn't." Karka looked down, his brow furrowed.
"He was a friend?" Hearan asked as they began moving again, up the valley to the transporter station.
"I already knew of his guilt. He was implicated when Irving told me that I'd been sent here to get me out of the way. If Het'Ress wasn't going, then by order of the corrupt Engineering Corps Commodore, I would be instead."
Karka took a last look about the valley - the tropical vegetation, the birds chittering, the flies descending in the increased humidity that drenched them as if all this was becoming imprinted in a surrealist vision. "Then it seems two groups are after us... Someone at Starfleet, and whoever's on the northern bank."
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Daniel Schirra
Captain
Registered: Apr 8, 2013 21:02:47 GMT
Posts: 468
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Post by Daniel Schirra on Dec 14, 2014 19:26:56 GMT
"Ahhh ..... About time you joined us in the land of the living Daniel ..... May I call you Daniel, or would you prefer Commander. I was never one for the formal, but I do respect a persons' right to decide ?"
Dan looked around, the ringing in his ears almost deafening, not to mention the throbbing pain in his neck and shoulders. Whoever had hit him hadn't held back. 'Some repressed aggression I suppose' he thought wryly. Rolling onto his side he tried tentatively to rise to a sitting position, he wasn't one for laying down on the job as he was fond of saying to himself.
"What do you want ?"
"Now now Commander. No need for hostilities between us. I am sure we can sort out our issues amicably and with a little decorum, and if not, then my rather burly colleague here will have to beat it out of you." the man said, a sympathetic smile forming.
"You think you're going to get anything from me using threats, then you should ask Trost about my stubbornness. I tent to react badly to such things." he said, rubbing the back of his neck, that seemed to be getting worse by the second, "Now, if you were to simply 'ask' me what you want to know, I'm sure I would be more amiable and not need to get off this settee and beat the living daylights of of your 'colleague' before wringing your scrawny neck !" the thug stepped forward clenching and unclenching his fists, but his handler held up a hand to stop him reaching down for Schirra.
"I think we have by necessity, got off on the wrong foot, so to speak ... Let me begin again ... My name, is Doctor Erik Stonn. My employers would like some answers to a few questions, whereon at which time you will be released to go about your business ...... Now, with you're permission, I will begin ?" Dan remained expressionless, "Good, now firstly, why are you once again investigating the Syndicate ?"
"Investi .... I have no idea what you are talking about."
"OK, we are aware that you were one of the Star Fleet Intelligence operatives sent to investigate and dissolve the Syndicate. We are also aware that you were sent off-world assigned to the newly re-commissioned Excalibur. So, our question, why are you in communication with Admiral Trost if you have no affiliation with the Intelligence division ?"
"I am not denying that I was part of the original team, that's a given. But as for me going back to my old job, you are mistaken." he eyed the thug as he once again stepped towards him, weighing up his height, weight, and the fact he was spoiling to rip Schirra in half, then he turned back to the doctor, "Trost got hold of me and asked if I knew you were back and plying your trade in federation space once more. I told him I didn't know nor care ... It isn't my problem any more and I told him as such in no uncertain terms. Obviously, a man like Trost doesn't take 'no' for an answer lightly, but then neither do I. As far as I'm concerned, IF it happened that I wanted to come after you, then believe me, I'd be doing it on my own violation. but you mi ......"
Dan suddenly sprang to his feet, fist slamming into the thugs throat before he could even react. The second and third blows ensured he wasn't going to be interrupting any time soon. Turning, he caught Stonn as he reached the door. Grabbing him by the collar he spun him into the wall then punched him hard. The elderly Doctor fell to the floor, shocked and dazed at the sudden unaccustomed attack. Dan lifted him onto the chair and sat down opposite, waiting patiently while he fought to compose himself. He glanced at the thug just to make sure he was still out cold. His neck was hurting so badly now the pain was threatening to cause him to black out, but he fought the urge and looked steadily at the Doctor, a neutral expression on his face. Stonn shrank back into the upholstery as he looked at his erstwhile captive, knowing the terms of their meeting had somehow reversed.
"I'm inclined to teach you a lesson in manners good Doctor." Dan said, leaning forward for effect, "But luckily, I try not to beat the hell out of the aged if I can help it .... It doesn't mean I won't though, so my advice would be to stay put and let me do a little of the talking while you still have the ability to do so. How does that sound ?" he said, getting up and approaching the slowly wakening thug. The kick landed in the man's midriff causing him to double-over in pain, and as he tried to turn away Dan slammed a fist into his temple, knocking him unconscious once more. The Doctor sat transfixed, unable to attempt any escape as his captor returned to his seat:
"I am unable to help you Commander. What information I have is negligible at best." the Doctor said, resigned to his situation.
"The Syndicate ... They are back as we all know, no doubt selling their poison to the highest bidder. Who are you targeting ?" The elderly man shrugged. Having told Schirra he had no useful information he deemed it unnecessary to repeat himself, even so, part of him worried that the Star Fleet Officer may just carry out his threat and try to beat it out of him, he shook his head, "You're not going to tell me, that I can understand and relate to, and hitting you isn't going to get me far, so how about this .... Why am I being looked at by the Syndicate. There are umpteen people who could give you better information than I can, so why me ?"
"You are the obvious choice, that should be evident ... Apart from your coordinator in Intelligence, you were the lead Officer in charge of the operation to capture our group. It was thought, rather unwisely in my humble opinion, that you would be the most likely to give us the information we require. It seems, as I suspected, that we were incorrect in that assumption." the Doctor shrugged, regaining some of his former composure.
"And now ?"
"And now ....." the elderly man said, something hard coming into his eyes as he glared at Schirra, "Well, regardless of your actions against my colleague, who proved to be woefully inadequate, and myself of course, that you cannot be allowed to live to pass on anything to your superiors."
Daniel looked at the man, who was holding his chest with one hand while steadying himself on the chair with the other. Something about his posture worried him and he reached forward, but the Doctor was quicker ..... A low-pitched hum began to rise in frequency, and the Doctor closed his eyes. It dawned on him what the hum was ... He looked around the room and found the only window. Running headlong he hoped he wasn't twenty stories off the ground as he plunged through the glass .... The explosion demolished the wall containing the shattered frame he had just gone through. tumbling, he caught sight of the ground below and realized it was going to be a hard landing. He wasn't wrong !
Slamming into the ground he was winded but managed to look up, he could only curl into a foetal position, arms covering his head as fractured masonry and shattered glass dropped around him ..........
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Daniel Schirra
Captain
Registered: Apr 8, 2013 21:02:47 GMT
Posts: 468
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Post by Daniel Schirra on Dec 17, 2014 23:53:01 GMT
He tried to open his eyes but they stung so much he slammed them shut instantly. He felt a hand on his forehead and a woman telling him to remain lay down while she cleared away the dust and glass particles ... He did as instructed and didn't resist as the woman raised him to a sitting position and eased his head forward. She told him to very slowly open his eyes and he could feel the warm soothing liquid on his face. After a moment he could keep his eyes open without trying to rub and the nurse padded his face down before spraying a solution into each eye.
"The things you'll do to get a little pampering." the male voice said again and this time he was able to look up at the speaker, it didn't help, "You don't know me Commander. My men pulled you from the rubble. You made quite an impression I must say, can't remember anyone walking into a room and setting off a high explosive device, they must have known you were coming."
"It wasn't a device." Dan replied, accepting the glass of water from the woman, who he had the distinct feeling was in the nursing profession for some reason, "It wasn't a bomb .... The person who was holding me ......."
"Yes ?"
"He, blew himself up." Dan said, looking at the man who's expression remained neutral, "Who the 'HELL' blows themselves up !"
"Really. Well, I have to admit, he did one hell of a job. We only found you in the rubble, and if we hadn't been watching you you would still be there by the way, but you can thank me later ..... What did they tell you while they had you up there ?" Dan said they had asked him nothing really, just pointed out his former involvement in the hunt for the syndicate and Stoon had given him was a headache, "Stoon ... 'DOCTOR' Emil Stoon !"
"Unless you know any more maniac doctors by the name of Stoon who work for decidedly shady organizations, then yes."
"He was one of the lead scientist's who initially developed the Craylon Strain, why would he sacrifice himself." the man said, pacing around the room deep in thought. Daniel looked at the nurse who seemed to be concentrating on writing something and pointedly keeping out of the conversation. he swung his legs off the bad, getting her attention immediately and she almost physically restrained him from getting up, "My name is Ruiz ... I am in the employ of Admiral Trost. He has been informed of developments and has asked us to transport you to a secure facility as soon as you are able to walk."
"I'm being detained ?"
"No, far from it, you are being moved for your own protection." Ruiz said, motioning to the nurse to dress her patient, "We are only meters from the devastation the good doctor caused, and given the likelihood someone would come to investigate, we need you out of harm's way. Wouldn't want someone else dropping in to blow themselves up, now would we." Finally dressed in casual slacks a shirt, and plimsolls, the nurse got him to his feet and Ruiz joined them in the middle of the room opening a communicator:
=^= Transport now =^=
"Where are we ?"
"You are on a freighter laying off the Space Station." Dan turned to see the Admiral stood looking at him, "Don't worry, the transport cannot be traced even if it was detected at all. You are safe here."
"What the hell is going on Trost. Some psychotic doctor blew himself up expecting to take be with him !"
"Yes, rather unfortunate that, but we couldn't get into the building in time to effect your release before the Doctor took it upon himself to act ..... One thing that is now certain, is the fact the Syndicate are holing to gather information on how much we actually have, and are willing the go all and any lengths to attain that information. we received news that they have tried out their Craylon derivative again, albeit on a small scale, thirty two dead. We have acquired Intel that they are planning a second test, on a much larger scale, but at this point we have nothing else to go on."
"How many 'TIMES' do I have to say this Trost ..... I want 'NOTHING' to do with your search for the syndicate, or the Craylon derivative they are planning on using." Daniel said, suddenly feeling the pain from the fall now his adrenalin was subsiding. The nurse stepped up and placed a hypo-spray against his bare arm and activated it, he drew away quickly.
"It's a anodyne only ... A painkiller Commander, nothing more." she reassured him.
"Interested or not Daniel, it makes no difference to them ... This freighter will be departing within the hour. Get him back to his home on the surface. Even the Syndicate wouldn't think he would be stupid enough to go back there, so it's likely as safe as anywhere." the Admiral nodded to the freighter Captain then stepped onto the transporter pad, "Oh, and Commander, that is the second time you omitted my rank when addressing me, w'll put it down to residual concussion shall we, but mark my words, let's try not to make it three for three shall we. I may not be as 'forgiving' next time !"
Dan watched the man he loathed vanish from sight. The nurse ran a medical tricorder over him then said he would need fifteen minutes rest before they risked moving him again. He didn't care, he'd been threatened, assaulted, almost blown up, all he wanted was to get out of this mess Trost was trying to force him into ..........
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Karka Psonoir
Commander
Registered: Apr 9, 2013 19:55:13 GMT
Posts: 422
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Post by Karka Psonoir on Dec 20, 2014 22:52:11 GMT
Psonoir and Hearan continued their amble up the slope back to the transporter station. Karka found it hard to believe he'd only been here a matter of days before he'd been located - hunted down by these definite non-Starfleeters. An offworld faction was on Earth, hiding out in the Amazon rainforest - and possibly other locations - attempting to assassinate USS Excalibur officers.
Nothing in the Archive's databanks gave weight to the idea that some group had infiltrated the Federation's Starfleet circa the year 2260. Perhaps then this was another divergent timeline, something caused by an over-abundance of anti-chronitons pushing back through the Hybrudeans' conceptual spacetime avenues. He doubted this faction's abilities to counteract such a flow, shield themselves from history by creating some sphere and thus suspend them from normal causal process and avoid detection by historical investigators.
They reached the transporter station, the pad lying inside the small cylindrical, domed structure apparently unguarded. Hearan - being the security officer - led the way, Karka covering him as he made his way into the room. The console adjacent to the pad showed that someone had recently beamed out.
Hearan spun to look at the pad, its relays still cooling, the light diminishing from its alcove. "Where'd they go?"
"To somewhere in San Francisco. The exact destination has been masked by an encryption program." Karka studied the console, "It wouldn't take long to decrypt it, but unfortunately the algorithms have been hardwired at source. I'd need access to their mainframe, wherever that is Frisco."
"Karka..." Psonoir wheeled. The voice had been distant, muted through the walls of the transporter facility. "Karka... You'd better come out." The two redshirt lieutenants glanced at each other, Psonoir suggesting Hearan try and get a look at whoever had joined them.
"You'd better come out." The voice repeated. "I have a photon grenade. On its minimum setting it'll render you unconscious. Higher settings... Well, I don't know how much damage it'll do with these increments; suffice to say you'll have more than a headache. Fickle things, wouldn't you agree?"
Karka kept silent. It would be foolish to give away his exact location inside the chamber. Hearan withdrew at his request - for Karka recognised the voice. Commander Het'Ress, in the employ of someone at command, or perhaps he was with the offworld faction that'd tried to assassinate Karka. Unless they truly were being hunted by two sides...
"Karka... Come on, now... We've been friends so long, why ruin it all now? I have someone here..." the latest pointless comments from Het'Ress. Karka slipped his mind into a state of enhanced hearing: he could hear feet padding around the outside of the structure, planting themselves carefully into the grasses wet with the over-humid air.
There was a simple solution. A transporter pad lay right behind them; they had only to program a set of coordinates. He was however curious to know who exactly Het'Ress had with him. It might provide a clue to decoding this entire mystery. He programmed the transporter to take himself and Hearan to San Francisco; the northern side of the bay near Sausalito. Apparently there were a lot of Italians there. Ten seconds and they would be free...
A stun grenade - silver canister glinting with blueish light reflected from the ceiling - rolled into the room, a high pitched squeal emanating from it.
Karka dived onto the transporter pad, Hearan right with him. They dematerialised, but not before the stun grenade had detonated. As the golden energy spirals melted around him Karka saw Het'Ress and his companion: an elderly man, an indignant look, a sling around his arm and walking with a limp as if he'd recently suffered a serious injury.
The two lieutenants appeared out of the nothingness onto a beach, sprawled unconscious near its edge where it rose and melded with foliage-strewn dunes. The stun grenade's effect endured for thirty minutes. They woke, seeing the surf lapping in and the sands that stretched some distance either direction. Gulls cried overhead; the smell of sea salt permeated the air. They wandered down the beach, looking for some sign of civilisation. Karka's communicator carried only so far; he could pick out a faint signal - a bare static - from somewhere inland.
"Where are we." Hearan looked out at the sea, casting pebbles into the oncoming waves. Detritus of the ocean washed itself up on the hazy beach.
"The stun grenade must've scattered the matter stream's destination." Karka answered, looking inland. "Some indication of longitude and latitude would be useful... Unfortunately your - These communicators aren't programmed to perform such calculations." Karka looked back; he was sure he'd seen someone far off in the distance behind them, near where the beach met with an outjutting headland. Yes, a black figure striding towards them, shape becoming more defined.
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Karka Psonoir
Commander
Registered: Apr 9, 2013 19:55:13 GMT
Posts: 422
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Post by Karka Psonoir on Dec 21, 2014 15:42:39 GMT
"We're definitely still in California." Hearan looked at the horizon, now certain the misty grey expanse he was looking at was the Pacific Ocean.
Karka waved him away, focussing on the figure approaching across the sands. Its image wavered, constantly transmuting as it grew larger. "Quiet... We have company." They hid amongst rocks strewn across this section of the grey beach. A laser dot was playing across the sands between them, refracted and turned into an oval shape by the individual grains.
The sound of a thunderclap echoed around the bay, ringing amongst the cliffs at either end of the beach. Fragments of rock were torn away from the boulder Karka had taken cover behind. He peered around its other side; the dark figure was running now, some thirty metres away, strafing its way across the beach towards the dunes. Both Starfleet officers returned fire, phasers narrowly missing their mark as the attacker dived into shrubbery brushed dry by airborne salt.
"How did they find us?" Hearan commed from behind a rock amongst the shallows. Karka had no answer. Unless Het'Ress and his mercenary colleagues had known how much the stun grenade's discharge would scatter the transporter beam, it seemed it could only be coincidence. That wasn't possible though. He might have support in San Francisco or possibly from orbit, someone informing him of the two Excalibur officers' location.
"These communicators are supposed to work better than this... The range is tens of thousands of kilometres." It was clear they were being jammed. "The nearest contact as far as I can tell is several miles inland. An hour away if we run."
Ducking through the foliage that sprang up among the dunes, both officers prepared for an arduous trek across countryside to the nearby town, hoping that this wasn't their attackers' base of operations. If that was the case... Then the route to solving this would be quicker than traipsing along lengths of beach.
Projectile fire lanced through the dunes, reverberating around the deserted place. Hearan threw himself prone on a rise in one dune, surrounded by beachgrass. Karka ran farther upwards towards the treeline that bordered the dunes and the steadily eroding beach. He dived into cover when their enemy's weapon rang out again. Weaving his way slowly amongst the grey sands rising on either side and staying on a line parallel with the beach, he was suddenly face to face with the attacker.
The man had jumped down from the dune to his left. Karka waited for him to become stationary and then shot him in the knee, watching as he gave a brief cry and crumpled to the ground. He walked up to the man, expression neutral yet not cold as he listened to his groaning. Karka turned him over; a human, not a face he recognised. "Who are you working for? Why do they want to kill me, and the other USS Excalibur staff."
The man grimaced, "I don't know, Mr Psonoir. The answers you seek lie east. The faint signal you detected from your communicator... That's our base in California."
"Who do you work for?" Psonoir asked again, sitting down beside the man who - it had become apparent - had already suffered injury before Psonoir had phasered his knee.
"The Syndicate." Psonoir lifted a fistful of sand, letting it slip between his fingers. He looked at the mercenary, almost idle in his silent questioning. "The Keeluun Syndicate. They tried to kill you in Colombia."
"Once we lift the communication blanket, I'll have you beamed to Spacedock for medical treatment." Psonoir rendered the man unconscious, using a vulcan neck pinch he'd learnt from a kolinahr apprentice on a previous expedition to the past.
The two officers - at near full sprint - made it to the Keeluun outpost in just under an hour. Karka crept up the front steps of the porch, looking through the windows. This township was old - had changed little, he imagined, in the last 200 years. Hearan had located the comm jamming transmitter, was now disabling it. Suddenly the comm blanket dissipated; Karka's communicator lost the feedback that'd emanated from it since he'd noticed it in Amacayacu. He looked at the dead, decrepit building before him. If anyone was in, he decided he'd rather combat them from orbit than meet face to face.
"Earth Spacedock, this is Lieutenant Karka Psonoir of the USS Excalibur. Could you patch me through to my vessel please?" He glanced again through one of the dark windows, seeing no movement inside. "Excalibur... This is Psonoir." He saw Hearan waving to him, indicating his job was done, "Two to beam up."
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Daniel Schirra
Captain
Registered: Apr 8, 2013 21:02:47 GMT
Posts: 468
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Post by Daniel Schirra on Dec 23, 2014 2:27:53 GMT
He was ready, not to mention, eager, go get off the freighter inside three minutes, but the ever-present nurse told him to stay put where he was until informed otherwise ..... She turned and left him sat on the wire bunk like someone condemned to a prison cell in some less fashionable detention center. Pacing back and forth in the confined space, his temper, combined with the persistent ringing in his ears from the explosion, was once more beginning to grate on his nerves.
"Sod this !" he said, turning to the door. Listening intently he could detect no-one stood ready to pounce when he attempted his escape, so he slowly slid the manual door aside. The corridor was empty in both directions, and given he had no clue regarding the freighter lay-out, he had to trust to luck he would pick the right way to go ... He figured the crew compliment to be no more than six or eight, so the chances of him passing off as a newcomer were zero, so he had to be wary and make sure he got out of sight should anyone chance along. He figured that as the nurse had said he needed fifteen minutes she wouldn't be back until that time was reached, especially as she looked like she cared just as mush as he did for the conversation.
The next room he came to was storage, same with the one directly opposite. But he could 'feel' the engines of the decrepit transport reverberating through the deck plates, so at least he was heading away from the bridge.
As he passed port holes built into the outer hull he could see the Space Station seemingly hovering above the planet below, and he wondered if the Syndicate had managed to infiltrate any of the upper Command structure yet. 'Not that you care' he chided himself as he continued his search. Then he found what he was looking for, the transporter room ! ..... He had no way of knowing if the room was occupied, so he had to take the chance and be ready to act if it was ..... He stepped up to the door and it glided silently aside at his approach. Almost leaping into the room he was ready to attack anyone that happened to be there, but again his luck was holding as the room was empty.
Stepping up to the console he attempted to activate the transporter, but it remained stolidly inactive. Kneeling at the base he removed a panel and began to reconfigure the data chips and control over-rides, and suddenly the console burst to life. With an audible sigh of relief he stood and set the co-ordinates. He had thought to beam directly to the Excalibur, or to the Star Base itself, given they were about to take him to his home close to the harbour bridge, but instead he picked somewhere close but with enough distance to allow his escape, 'if that is what this is' he thought as he activated the transporter five second delay and began to walk to the pad. The rising tone of a transport build-up suddenly began to subside and he spun to the console to reset, but someone had beat him to it:
"Leaving so soon Commander ?" Ruiz said, grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat, a phaser pointing unwaveringly at Dan's groin.
"Trost said I was free to leave once I felt up to it, I didn't want to put anyone out so decided I'd just head off and leave you super hero's to it."
"Indeed ......" Ruiz said, eyeing the panel showing the beam down co-ordinates, "You were going to your home, opposite Star Fleet Command, were you not ?"
"Yes." Dan said casually.
"Yes ......" Ruiz repeated parrot fashion, before seemingly coming to a decision. He reactivated the transporter and waved toward the pad ... Dan hesitated for a second, wondering about the sudden change of tactic from Trost's sidekick, but it reality he knew he had little option but to step onto the transport. In his head, he ran through the events after Ruiz had entered and tried to recollect if he had had time to change the co-ordinates, but he couldn't say either way, so he did as he was told and stood on the illuminated pad then waited ... It was obvious that the sidekick was enjoying his discomfort as he was toying with the activation screen as if trying to decide if he was going to let Schirra go, but eventually he heard the increasing whine of a transport and the room vanished from sight, to be replaced a second later by his garden, and across the bay, Fleet Headquarters. Almost surprised that Ruiz had actually send him down, but he obviously changed the destination co-ordinates without Dan seeing him. Shrugging, he turned to go into the house and came face to face with the nurse .....
"Can't have you staying here all alone, can we." she said, making him freeze for a second before taking sun glasses from her bag and placing them on top of her head, "Lovely view by the way." she finished, sitting herself down as if expecting a waiter to appear with frosted margaritas. He stood looking at her for a long moment before heading into the house.
"Can't you people just leave me the hell alone." he said to no-one in particular, wondering if she was here to make sure he didn't do anything Trost wouldn't approve of, or if she was here to kill him if he tried ..........
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Daniel Schirra
Captain
Registered: Apr 8, 2013 21:02:47 GMT
Posts: 468
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Post by Daniel Schirra on Dec 29, 2014 0:40:23 GMT
Moving inside he pointedly closed the door behind him, effectively in the nurse's face, but he didn't care what impression his action gave, in fact, if it broke her nose he wouldn't have been unhappy about it .....
Throwing his blood-soaked jacket into the corner he pulled the torn T'shirt over his head and moved through the bedroom into the shower. The hot, almost scalding water taking his mind off the myriad of bruises he had managed to acquire. He didn't hurry to get out, in fact he was pretty content to stay there letting the pounding water battle the pain, but eventually he stepped out and dried off. Returning to the bedroom he dressed casually and entered the living room. Helping himself to a drink he sat in his favourite chair and looked out through the room-length windows at the harbour bridge and Star Fleet Command beyond. The nurse stolidly remained stood where he had passed her earlier, he still ignored her gaze.
He wondered vaguely how long she would remain seemingly routed to the spot on his lawn, and idly pondered if she would leave a lasting mark on the grass. 'Silly yes' he thought, but he did care for his garden and had people in to make sure it remained pristine in his absence .... If this were a battle of wills between them, he quickly realized that she was going to win. Hell, what could he do, opaque the glass, close the blinds. He'd know she was still stood there, impassively watching the building as if she could see through the bloody walls ... Finally he got up and opened a section of the window:
"It's a given that you are not about to give up and go away, so you may as well come in, apparently I'm going nowhere for the time being."
She grinned as if she had been waiting at his door for mere seconds, then breezed past him cheerfully. Once inside she looked around at his belonging's, the art on the walls, the ornaments, as if appraising the place for an upcoming sale to the proverbial newly married couple.
"Drink ?" he said, following her inside before closing, and securing, the windows.
"Scotch, if you have the real thing, obviously." she said without preamble, "I suppose I should maybe introduce myself ?"
"Why, you planning on staying." he said, handing her the glass.
"Well .... That depends on you I suppose." she said, appreciating the amber liquid running around the glass in her hand, "It's Kenna by the way ... My name. This is certainly not some fake stuff, mind if I ask what it is ?"
"It's called Ballantines ... Very rare, and very expensive, so try not to rush the experience ..... Computer, Beethoven's Sonata al chiaro di luna." he said, sitting himself opposite the woman.
"Funny, I never took you for the classical type. Strange how you get a mental impression of someone from their files, they never do the person justice in my opinion."
After a few moments he got up and moved to the cabinet, he picked up the bottle of whisky and asked if she wanted a top-up, to which she replied yes. He walked over to her as she closed her eyes, engrossed in the music. taking hold of her glass to steady it he began to pour, then there was a decided ringing sound as the thick base of the bottle connected with the temple of the nurse and she slumped sideways into the chair, unconscious. He held the glass in one hand the bottle in the other and looked out into the garden for signs he had more company than just her, but the lawn was empty.
"Sorry." he said, more to the Ballentines than to the unconscious woman, before he downed the drink he'd poured for her and replaced the bottle on the counter ... Unceremoniously, he dragged her through the living room and the kitchen until he reached the cellar door. He was sorely tempted to just throw her down the stairs, but chivalry got the better of him and lifting, he threw her over his shoulder and descended ... Kicking blankets onto the floor he dumped the woman and looked for something to secure her. A cursory search revealed three weapons, two knives and a type one phaser, but surprisingly, no communicator. He was somewhat impressed, given the tight-fitting outfit. But she was coming around now, so he acted quickly, and by the time she could have done anything about it, she was already fixed firmly to the bench. She looked up at him as if disappointed:
"My dates don't usually knock me out and tie me up ... But hey, there's a first time for everything, right ?"
"My dates don't normally stalk my lawn until invited in." he said, putting her toys out of reach and heading for the stairs.
"Leaving so soon ?" she asked, once again adopting the 'disappointed' look. He smiled as if pondering whether to release her.
"Alas, I'm afraid I have to. But don't worry, my gardener will be here first thing, I'm sure he'll release you once he finds you ... Oh, and by the way, I wouldn't take this out on him, I tend to get a little annoyed at people who upset the hired help. Is there anything I can get you before I leave ?"
"A drink, a snack, I hate to sup on an empty stomach." Dan smiled then headed up the stairs ..........
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Karka Psonoir
Commander
Registered: Apr 9, 2013 19:55:13 GMT
Posts: 422
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Post by Karka Psonoir on Dec 29, 2014 2:43:14 GMT
"Sorry, Karka, the transmission seems to be breaking up, I'm not sure..." she faltered, becoming still at some unnatural angle. "There's something wrong on the outside." Her voice came without her mouth moving.
Karka stood, rising from the shallows at the lip of the great ocean to face the malfunctioning intrusion, "Outside the holospace?"
"No. Lirwa's calling me back. He's in the 31st." She hesitated; Karka felt she'd look up if she was capable. "The vigilantes and their profession is all but obsolete in that time, Karka. You wouldn't fit in there, not as you are. And they're less accepting of outsiders, or diversity, or whatever it was..."
"Don't worry about it," Karka looked back out to sea, the in-rushing waves thunderous in their roar over this Pacific coast. He'd recreated the beachlands south of Fort Bragg - not the Starfleet Security installation - but a small township on a headland in north California - where he and Hearan had been transported after escaping from Amacayacu. Instead of picking through the rock formations on the other side of the beach to find where the assassin might've come from, he'd lowered himself into the shallow waters of the cold and huge Pacific. Seaweed and ocean-borne creatures washed around him, pulled and pushed from him by the whim of the tide. His uniform trousers were soaked through with saltwater.
"I appreciate the intrusion," he gazed at the horizon. "Give Lirwa my regards. If I haven't already."
"So be it, Karka. I'll be waiting." She disappeared, a wisp on the wind that hit the clouds and glowed with its own light separate from that of Sol. The static fuzz she'd dissipated from remained for a second longer, resonating laughter screeching from the distant future through that portal opened into multidimensional space. He waved the fuzz away and followed an apparently random path through the shallows. His footsteps left lingering imprints, heavy with the implicit meaning in the words and the thoughts that'd been vocalised in the previous seconds, as if something else watched over the exchange.
She'd assured him the photonic nature of this environment had been no obstacle to establishing the link through spacetime from the Archive in the 31st century. Eyes lingering a second longer on the space where the static fuzz had faded, and surveying as if with surprise the path his bare feet had taken him across the holographic sands, he settled again in the shallows.
It was meditation space, in the Zen, or Buddhist conception. It wasn't working for Karka. He gave everything a chance; it was part of being a vigilante. One had the right to assert his own view, his own agenda; he was also obligated to immerse himself in the practices of the time he'd chosen to intersect. Ideas forgotten, lost in time, weren't any less valid just because they came from a long-ago century. If no empirical evidence was possible, the idea - a concept from the branch of philosophy as Karka understood humans called it - could never be discounted.
Waves washed around him 'til his descending neural processes were disrupted by an opening of the maintenance hatch at the bottom of the shaft. Karka withdrew himself from the mental headspace, retracting the holographic projection he'd splayed out before him back into his mind. He was in the space next to deflector control - the locale, incidentally, where he'd nearly met his death: wretched, writhing on the grilled floor with light shooting out from all his pores... An immolation of the spirit, of the nucleus of his mind that remained anchored here in the year 2260, he'd felt himself effusing from reality, dissolving, about to be shot into some region unknown even to his own race.
The Hybrudeans knew what weapons they wielded, yet they didn't know the consequences if those weapons happened to malfunction.
"Lieutenant..." a voice came from down the shaft. "The drydock's maintenance techs are off the ship. She's ours."
"Thanks, Ensign. I'll inform Captain Santos. The Commodore's still on the surface. Oh, I'll be in engineering shortly. The techs left it in good order I hope."
Unwin laughed, "No, sir... When do they ever do that?" The hatch slid back into place.
Karka recalled the footprints left in the sand... their imprints slowly dissipating with the sand's uptaking of water and the incoming waves that cleansed it all once more. His thought, zeroed in on some spark at the centre of his frontal partition, had carried a chain of logic and deducted... what?
Schirra. Where was the man? Unusual comm traffic and transporter operations had been carried out in the last few minutes, in and out of San Francisco. He looked over the seascape, the grey beach cutting a jagged line across his view of the Pacific and the nearby grass-covered dunes. His holospace was back around him. Schirra was here somewhere - but in the real world - kilometres to the south in San Francisco. The Keeluun Syndicate's influence - whatever the size of their current operation - had been crippled in most of California courtesy of his and Hearan's actions, but that didn't account for whoever they may have infiltrated in Starfleet organisations, engineering, intelligence...
It all seemed to melt into insignificance. He cast back in the sand, feeling the cold seep through his uniform as the shallows rippled about him, drenching his body with pearlescent salts. He felt his uniform expand with the water, something of the human perhaps infiltrating his body at last.
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Daniel Schirra
Captain
Registered: Apr 8, 2013 21:02:47 GMT
Posts: 468
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Post by Daniel Schirra on Jan 2, 2015 23:23:23 GMT
"...... But don't worry, my gardener will be here first thing, I'm sure he'll release you once he finds you ... Oh, and by the way, I wouldn't take this out on him, I tend to get a little annoyed at people who upset the hired help. Is there anything I can get you before I leave ?"
"A drink, a snack, I hate to sup on an empty stomach." the nurse said, eyebrows raised. Dan smiled then headed up the stairs.
He knew now that things were getting beyond a joke, and he wasn't in a laughing mood. he wanted out of whatever Trost had planned for him ... Going back up to the Excalibur was out of the question. The last thing he needed was to drag the Commodore into this situation. as far as he was concerned, if Star Fleet Command wanted the Excalibur on the case, then it would assign her. Moving away from the house he took care to ensure he wasn't being followed. He needed to act, but how, that was the quandary ... Normally, while on assignment for the Intelligence Division, he would take the fight to the opposition, and decided this was no exception. He was no longer associated with that organization, but he figured if they wanted to play the game he wouldn't disappoint them. As long as it didn't interfere or involve the ship then he was free to follow up on anything he needed to !
~~~~~
It had taken him the best part of an hour to reach his goal. Back-tracking, using side streets, suddenly changing direction, it was corny he knew, but it worked, and almost always caught out the inattentive follower. Twice he thought he had picked someone out, but decided it was more likely his over-thinking his situation. Eventually he stood on the lawn looking up at the house above. It was in darkness now, so he knew the owner was not home. Moving along the tree line he approached the back, stopping a dozen meters away before taking out a much modified tricorder and placing it on the ground. The device scanned the back of the house, highlighting what he needed to see, movement sensors ... 'Ever the cautious sod' he thought as he entered a code sequence into the device and sat back waiting. Thirty seconds later the tricorder chirped, signifying the external and internal sensors on the room before him were deactivated. Grinning he set the time delay and left the device in place. Running to the large doors he worked at the lock, and opening it easily he stepped tentatively into the darkened room. Satisfied, he closed the sliding door and moved further into the house. within a minute he was exactly where he needed to be and settled down to wait ......
~~~~~
"I'll not need you any further tonight. Pick me up at the usual time please." Dan heard the man speaking and listened intently to ensure he was alone. He could hear movement around the house and waited patiently, it was more than likely that the person he needed to speak to would come into this room at some point before retiring, so he remained in the chair, silent and alert ... Thankfully he didn't have to wait too long ... He heard someone approaching and then the door opened, a man entering and approaching the ornate wooden desk. Sitting, he turned on a small desk light and came face to face with Schirra.
"I thought it was about time we got a few things straightened out, don't you Admiral ?" he said, raising the phaser as Trost reached out to activate the comms unit.
"You realize, I assume, just how many regulations you are breaking by coming here Commander, and holding a weapon on a Senior Officer isn't going to bode well for you once we're through here."
"You finished ?" Dan asked, reaching over and taking the glass from Trost and downing the warm liquid. The Admiral sat in silence, "Good ..... Now, I don't know how many times I have insisted that I want nothing to do with, you, the syndicate, the stuff they are messing with, the whole bloody farce. but for some reason, getting me almost blown up, having that nurse follow me around like some lovesick schoolgirl ......"
"Yes." Trost said, knowing Daniel wouldn't actually fire, at least not until he had what he came here for, "We seem to have lost contact with nurse Kenna. I do hope you'll send her back once you have done entertaining."
"I want you to leave me out of this thing you have with the Keeloon Syndicate. I've asked politely, so I do hope you'll respect my request."
"I'm not too sure I can promise that, to be totally honest Commander." Trost said, shrugging.
"You know ....." Dan said, getting out of his seat and moving to the drinks cabinet and helping himself to a port, "..... I knew you couldn't give me a straight answer, and I also know that you will likely have me arrested the moment I leave here, but that doesn't matter to me, at least in the Brig I can't be any help to you. I'll loose my rank and position and get booted from Star Fleet, but hey ho, at least you won't need to expend all those man-hours on following me around ..... Just out if idle curiosity, while I finish this excellent port, why 'have' you been nagging me about this, surely you have the resources without needed me involved."
"As I explained once before Daniel, You were the lead operative on the Keeloon situation, and I need you're, insight ....... You do realize that you are going to help me, one way or the other, right ?" Trost said, a wry smile forming. Dan looked from the glass, to the phaser, to Trost, then drained the last of the amber liquid.
"This ...." he said, waving the phaser "Is enough to get me a life sentence. Whether you act on it is your prerogative, but personally, if it we're me, I would be inclined to get me off the streets, before I come back and blow a hole through your head. We are both well aware that some of your methods have been less than, legitimate, shall we say, and I'm sure you wouldn't want any sudden investigation to spring up just as you have this 'Keeloon' issue to deal with ... I really do hope that any subtleties of what I'm saying didn't get lost on you, Admiral."
Surprisingly, for someone who had just been threatened by a junior, with a weapon, Trost burst into laughter rather than throwing his rank or position in the man's face ..... He stood and made his way to the cabinet, pouring himself a large drink and refreshing Dan's glass. Schirra in turn was wondering if the Admiral had finally cracked, or if this was some bizarre act, but Trost was still laughing, almost spitting the expensive drink out in the process, as he sat back behind the desk and raised his glass as if toasting his companion:
"You always were the impetuous type Danny. That's what I first liked about you. Yes, you had the skills, you had the brains for this kind of work, and you had the morals of someone willing to do whatever it took in the name of getting the job done right. But it was that impetuousness that clinched it when we were recruiting you. I don't think there is anyone alive that would have risked breaking into this house and doing what you did, and no, I don't think I'll be calling this in .... Call it 'over enthusiasm' on your part, to get some information that I happened to have. But let's not get too carried away shall we. It's funny you know, when I admonished you for not addressing me correctly, I hardly had you coming here threatening my life in mind." he drained the glass and held it out to Daniel, "Top that up will you, all this excitement is making me thirsty."
Taking the glass he poured more of the port and helped himself to a last drink. Taking Trost's glass over he handed it back and downed his in one:
"Do what you like regarding our meeting tonight, but leave me out of this thing Admiral." Dan said, placing the glass on the desk, then he turned and left the house ..........
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Karka Psonoir
Commander
Registered: Apr 9, 2013 19:55:13 GMT
Posts: 422
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Post by Karka Psonoir on Jan 6, 2015 1:23:49 GMT
Perhaps unsteadily, the lift to the upper level of engineering took Karka and Unwin to the master console, overlooking the roughly cylindrical control interfaces that capped the warp core on the level below. The power relay 'hall' glowed with its fiery energy, permeating into the clean utilitarian space.
Leaving Unwin to take care of the menial affairs of an engineering staff in drydock, Psonoir explored the future, delved through neural passageways to spacetime configuration locii of projected futures. Through these Hybrudeans could escape their current coordinates and gain access to the eternal doorway of the future. His own subjective worldline dictated - with 93% probability of accuracy - that he'd be able to locate Commander Schirra if he took this particular action:
He leant into the console, flipping switches and turning squealing dials.
"What are you doing?" Unwin called.
"Powering up the warp drive. The PTC only," he said, holding up a hand at the cries of surprise, alarm, "Minimal plasma will be fed into the nacelles. No interaction with the coils. No warp bubble."
"What... What the hell are you thinking?" Unwin backed off as Karka turned to him. "... With all due respect, sir." He murmured. "But in drydock, Karka. I know we've got full power back since the techs finished their maintenance work but isn't this a little early for tests?"
"Only one way to find out." Irregular comm traffic between one of the myriad vessels (civilian passenger craft, freighters, haulers and Federation starships around Spacedock) and locations around Daniel Schirra's residence in San Francisco had been detected in the last few hours. Karka thought he might be able to root this anonymous vessel out.
"Bridge, stand-by for test of warp engines," Karka commed.
He set about calculating range of the likely shockwave, that would result from plasma being fed into the nacelle's injectors and immediately extinguished by near-zero kelvin blasts of solid-state hydrogen pellets. He grimaced upon reading the result: seemed it would extend beyond Spacedock, but that might not be far enough.
"Who approved this, Lieutenant?" a testy reply came from the bridge duty officer.
"Please bear with me." He entered a sequence of commands, aligning the PTC's plasma flow so that it wouldn't enter the nacelles parallel to the injector nozzles and accidentally start charging the coils.
"For the sake of your career, I strongly advise that you abort this... mistimed operation, Lieutenant!" the bridge officer blustered.
Karka looked up at the scarlet-glowing power relays, smiling with pursed lips as an electric whine built in engineering, "3. 2. 1."
The shockwave could barely be seen in the vacuum, a fast-fading afterimage of an explosion that - in a way - was not actually there. It spread from its source at the Excalibur, fading to become indistinguishable from the microwave background just beyond the Spacedock.
Karka immediately accessed the external sensor logs, while all the engineers looked around at each other; aimless, listless, bemused or in shock. As expected the hub of Spacedock and its attendant roaming vessels had entered a state of hyperactivity. Inbound comms from the fleet to the Excalibur and its cocooning drydock demanded to know what was going on. High-ranking officers began making threats of official reports and so on.
The CEO looked for anomalies. Movements of the ships around Spacedock and other nearby locations. He accelerated his consciousness - to allow him to track the fast motion of ships as they reacted to the harmless shockwave, to observe any quick corrective changes in velocity that might indicate guilt.
One craft; a freighter, stationed just off Spacedock near the pylons of its ventral sensor array. It had moved away from the shockwave for approximately 20 seconds before correcting course back into the wave's bowfront, realising its harmlessness. Nerves running high there, Karka thought, smiling. All other ships had recognised the Excalibur's plasma fire & extinguish operation and had simply let it wash over them.
He compared the comm traffic between the hub and San Francisco with the transceiver data from the conspicuous freighter and found a match. This was the ship; communications from the vessel had been directed towards the grounds surrounding Daniel Schirra's residence in San Francisco over the last fourteen hours.
* * *
"Commodore? Is this seat taken?"
Ryat looked up, the form of the disguised Hybrudean silhouetted against the sun that lowered itself over the tangerine-grey Pacific. Obviously surprised to see him but recognising her CEO, she motioned for him to sit.
They were on the terrace of an eatery lying to the east of the Presidio, on the shoreline, with a view towards the Golden Gate Bridge. The sun illuminated its girders, transforming the landmark into a network of copper-tinted rust.
Karka waved a waiter away, regarding his CO. "I'm sure you've heard, we have a lead on who has been hunting Commander Schirra. It seems he's at his residence downtown. The comms that've come from orbit to near the XO's house; they're coming from a freighter in the vicinity of Spacedock. They think they've probably gone undetected. It's registered as a Nausicaan merchant ship, but having checked the manifest of ships passing through the system in the last four days we found that information to be false, invented three weeks ago. It's unregistered, probably property of Starfleet Intelligence if they're after Schirra."
<Tag Ryat>
"So..." he said, looking out over the glistening bay, "We mobilise towards Schirra's house?"
<Tag Ryat, Schirra>
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