U.S.S. Corsair - Affair on Astate

Affair on Astate: A New Assignment

Mars Colony, Sol System SFI Divisional HQ

“What the hell is the matter with you Akina”, Captain Peter Harris shouted as he paced around Captain Zane Akina who stood silently at attention in the captain’s office. “Do you know how much trouble you’re in – I’m in? I have half the brass on this rock clamoring for someone’s ass over this! I’m more than happy to send them yours. And look at this!” The captain read from a padd as he paced back and forth. “Excessive use of force, damage to public property, damage to Starfleet property, one wrecked transport, one dead, two wounded, and let’s not forget this one, operations outside of applicable jurisdiction. What do you have to say for yourself and what the hell were you doing there in the first place? We have rules and policies Akina – ones you are supposed to follow!”

“Well when I see three men assaulting a female in the middle of the night, I shoot the bastards, that’s my policy”, Akina answered.

“Captain, mowing down civilians in the wee hours of the morning is not acceptable especially when they are outside of SFI jurisdiction.”

“Let me get this straight sir, you’d have me stand by while those criminals had their way with that woman?”

“YES”, came the heated reply. “Akina, you’re a field agent, a damn good one, one of the best, but you don’t just don't see the big picture. You’re undercover remember! Now your ugly mug is splashed across every media source on Mars and beyond. You’ve just exposed yourself. Everything we’ve been working on for the last six months just evaporated, its gone – finished. And so are you . You can’t work here, at least not for the foreseeable future until this mess blows over. You’re a celebrity now, a damned hero to the masses.”

Akina grimaced. “I stand behind my decision sir. I’m not going to stand by while innocent civilians are violently assaulted by punks who had it coming to them. If I had it to do over again, I’d do the same thing.”

“Oh you would? What about the credits that went into this operation, what about all the intelligence work that’s now useless? What about that Akina?”

“A small price to pay in exchange for someone’s life sir.”

“We don’t pay you to make those types of decisions!”

“So if it had been your wife or daughter I should have done nothing?”

“Don’t change the subject!”

“You listen to me Captain”, Akina replied gruffly. “I did my duty to uphold the law and protect Federation citizens. If I rained on your parade or disrupted SFI’s timelines so be it. Right now there’s a women recovering from a terrible event who is still alive to tell about it, you have one dead perp, and two others in custody off the streets and away from the public. So there was some minor damage in the firefight, but I'd call that acceptable collateral damage. In any other outfit, they would call that good work, why the hell am I getting the first degree?”

“You just don’t get it Akina. As intelligence officers were supposed to be invisible, unseen, subtle – you’re a god damned supernova! You’re on the news ten sectors away and beyond. Hardly what I would call invisible.”

“Are we done here”, Akina asked annoyed at the Captain’s incessant barking.

Harris grumbled something unintelligible and threw a padd at Akina. “Read that. Your orders. You’re being shipped out of here. Report to the spaceport at 09:30 hours tomorrow to catch a transport.”

“Where am I being sent?”

“As far away from here as I could manage”, Harris replied with a smile. “Astate, it’s a small planet on the border with our friends the Romulans. I don’t care what you do there. If you start a war with the Romulans at least I won’t get the blame for it.”

“But…”

“You’re rated in Romulan culture and language so shutup. Its done. Be on that transport.”

“Great”, Akina muttered.

“One more thing. Here”, the captain said shoving a small black box into Zane’s hand. “Now get the hell out of my office!”

Zane shot a sour look at the crusty captain and existed the office his butt having been sufficiently chewed for the day. Opening the box he looked inside to reveal a commendation ribbon for his recent actions. Turning he poked he head back into Harris’s office.

“Thank you captain. You really do care", he said sarcastically.

“GET OUT”, Harris erupted. Zane left the office and as the doors slid closed he swore he heard something heavy hit the wall from within Harris’s office.

Akina shoved the ribbon into his pocket. He didn’t care much for accolades or awards. He did his duty whatever the circumstances. He glanced at the padd. Astate. He knew something of it though would need to do his homework on the area if he were to be prepared for his assignment which still wasn’t exactly clear. The padd contained only scant information, transfer orders, and little else. Harris appeared to have been in a hurry to transfer him otherwise the orders would have had more detail and specificity.

Turning down the hall, Akina headed to his desk to collected his few belongings. He had a transport to catch in less than 24 hours and little time to take care of any outstanding issues before that time.

Captain Zane Akina Intelligence Operative Starfleet Intelligence (SFI)

Affair on Astate: A New Assignment - Part II

USS Britain – Medical Frigate

“Bring us out of warp Ensign Hall”, Captain Tom Greer ordered from his seat on the bridge. “Aye sir”, came the reply as the medical frigate Britain slowed to impulse. The planet Astate appeared on the viewscreen as the Britain moved in to drop off supplies and a passenger.

“Put us in standard orbit. Contact Astate command and coordinate transport of our medical supply shipment.” Greer turned and looked at his guest who was seated at the rear of the bridge taking in the view. “End of the line Captain Akina. We should be in transporter range in a few minutes.”

Captain Zane Akina stood and moved toward Greer. “Thanks for the lift captain, a few days trip aboard the Britain was preferable to the back of a crowded transport that would have taken a week or more. I appreciate the ride.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m glad you caught us when you did. By the way, how did you know we were headed to Astate? This wasn’t a scheduled stop.”

Akina smiled softly. “I’m in intelligence captain, I can’t give away all my secrets.”

Greer laughed. “Of course. Well enjoy your new post. I hear Astate is quite beautiful.”

“I’ll do my best. I should be off. Thank you again for your hospitality captain.”

“Don’t mention it Captain.” Greer tapped his communicator. “Greer to transporter room, standby to beam Captain Akina to the planet surface. Out.”

Akina nodded taking one last look at Astate on the viewscreen. It amazed him how large the planet was compared to the Earth. “Watch your back out there Captain”, he said heading toward the turbolift. “You do the same. Good luck.”

Akina nodded as he entered the lift headed for the transporter room.

The rippling tingle of the transporter beam slowly dissipated as Zane Akina shimmered into existence on a transporter pad inside the Starfleet complex near Caenis. Shaking off the effects of the trasporter, Akina stepped from the pad with his few belongings in a case slung over his arm. The only one in the room was the transporter operator who stopped after a few moments when the captain failed to leave.

“Is there something I can help you with sir?”

Akina looked somewhat perplexed. “Well, I’m not sure. Isn’t there supposed to be someone here to meet me?”

“Uh, I didn’t receive anything. Let’s see, Captain Zane Akina – orders are confirmed. No sir, nothing here but your transport authorization.”

“Great”, Akina muttered. “Any chance you know where I can find the SFI offices?”

“SFI? I’m not sure they have any offices here. I think you guys have a facility somewhere on Astate, that’s really all I know. Don’t you have your orders sir?”

“Yes and no. I was transferred here, but I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to be doing – yet.”

“Oh well, perhaps the computer can help. You might also talk to one of the base commanders.”

Akina nodded. “Thanks.”

The transporter chief nodded and went about his duties as Akina exited the room. No firm orders, no one to greet him, no idea where to report – it was just the sort of excuse he could milk for a few days time which would allow him ample time to relax, enjoy the scenery, and check out some of the local attractions to get familiar with what was his new home for the time being.

Turning the corner, Akina headed leisurely down a corridor looking for a computer terminal to find the nearest mess hall or restaurant. He’d grab some food, a drink or two, and then try and find out where he could crash and get a few hours of sleep. He continued down the hallway passing a few attractive female officers which caught his attention. Smiling to himself he thought this new position might not be too bad after all if the locals were friendly and the food was half decent. It was still a far cry from the sophisticated cities on Mars or Earth, but this place seemed to have character and charm all its own. He was looking forward to a quiet posting for a change. Spying on the Romulans had its appeal after all and they were worthy adversaries despite being loosely allied with the Federation when it came to the ongoing war with the Dominion. Things were beginning to look up.

Captain Zane Akina Starfleet Intelligence

Affair on Astate: Reassignment, Romance, & Romulans? - Part I

Astate Colony

“So Captain, what do you do for a living here on Astate”, the attractive woman sitting across the table from him asked playfully. Captain Zane Akina smiled softly as he took a swallow of his beer. The last two days off had done wonders for his personal morale. Now he was in a great bar, having a conversation with a wonderful Lt. Commander named Mirialia, and enjoying several local beers which were quite excellent. Being away from the cloak and dagger of his previous assignment on Mars, and the subversion, misdirection, and moral peril of SFI in general was a refreshing breath of air of which he hadn’t experienced in quite sometime.

“I’m a fighter pilot”, Zane replied taking another gulp of his beer.

“A pilot”, Mirialia repeated. “Seriously? Have you been in many battles?”

“A few”, Zane lied. It was against SFI policy for an agent to divulge his or her position or function. Loose talk like that, even if casually, could make for a quick end to an agent’s career if not their life. While he was rated to pilot a Valkyrie class fighter, he had limited combat training, and had never been in actual combat outside of simulations.

“That’s interesting. What brings you here to Astate?”

“Orders. You go where they tell you. I don’t ask too many questions, it just irritates top brass. I’m sure you can relate Commander.”

“Perhaps. Do you think I could see your fighter sometime? I’ve never actually seen one. Perhaps I could sit in it”, she asked.

Zane chuckled. That was one request he would have some difficulty making a reality. “Let’s play it by ear huh? Perhaps I can arrange something.”

“I’d love to go for a ride in one, sail the skies, just like a bird. Must be an amazing feeling. Probably beats flying a desk day in and day out.”

“It’s pretty incredible”, Zane answered. He leaned forward and took Mirialia hands in his own. “You have nice hands”, he said rubbing them gently. “Too nice to touch a bunch of gritty war machines.”

Mirialia smiled. “You’d be surprised what I’m willing to touch”, she said with a mischievous inflection.

“Would I”, Zane asked questioningly. “Perhaps I’m curious to find out.”

Mirialia pulled her hands away. “I bet you are Mr. Hotshot. Why don’t you take me home, we can talk a bit more about your career and perhaps I’ll tell you a few more things about me in the process.”

Zane looked into Mirialia eyes which captivated him. This assignment was a godsend – SFI could keep Mars this place was a veritable garden of Eden compared to the daily grind on the Martian colonies.

“Shall we”, he asked standing. She nodded her lithe figure rising from her chair. Extending his arm she took it with hers as they walked slowly out of the bar.

The couple turned down a corridor headed for her apartment complex which was somewhere on the other side of the Starfleet facilities. Zane still wasn’t sure exactly what she did for Starfleet, but he was sure he’d get a few answers later on after a long, exquisitely thorough interrogation of the exceptional, if not slightly coy, lieutenant commander.

The two talked about random subjects as they walked each enjoying the other’s company when the lights flickered and failed bathing them both in darkness. A few emergency lights snapped on providing some illumination despite the pervasive darkness.

“That’s odd”, Mirialia said. “I’ve never seen the lights go out like this. I wonder what’s wrong.”

Zane looked down the hallway straining to see in the darkness. The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. As an SFI agent he had a sixth sense for danger and alarms were sounding in his head – only he couldn’t quite place the cause. Something just didn’t feel right.

“Let’s get back to your place”, he said abruptly taking Mirialia’s hand and briskly moving down the long hallway. “I don’t like the…”

His sentence was cut off when the emergency lights flickered and went out. A split second later an explosion detonated in their vicinity enveloping both of them in a cloud of light, debris, and chaos. Zane heard Mirialia scream, but in the blast he had lost track of her as expanding gasses and the rush of air flung him like a rag doll into a bulkhead. Darkness surrounded him blotting out everything in its approach until there was nothing, but the nothingness itself.

Zane’s eyes slowly opened. His vision waivered as his senses slowly returned. His ears rang incessantly making it difficult to hear the sounds around him. His chest burned as each breath was choked by clouds of acrid smoke which stung his eyes, face, and throat. Pulling himself upwards, debris, wiring, and bits of metal rolled off his body as the reality of what had happened sank in. He rubbed his left eye his sight blurred in a red miasma. He discovered a large gash above his eye dripping copious amounts of warm blood. Wiping what he could of the sticky mess away with his sleeves, Zane looking out before him amazed at what he saw.

A huge gaping hole sat before him where the corridor connecting one of the Starfleet wings with another once stood. Beyond the burning, jagged hole a firefight had erupted between Starfleet and some other hostile force. He couldn’t see the attackers through the haze of fire and smoke, but he could hear the unmistakable whine of their weapon fire and see its telltale color as he knew them both well. Romulans.

Reaching for his sidearm under his jacket, Zane was about to race out into the courtyard to investigate when he remembered why he was here. Mirialia! Where was she? Stepping through the burning debris, Zane found his date covered in debris, a plasteel panel partially covering her legs. Racing to her side he quickly pulled the heavy panel away tossing it backwards as he sought to determine if she had been injured.

“Mirialia, Mirialia! Answer me”, he pleaded as he rolled her over onto her side. Zane’s eyes snapped wide open as the extent of her injuries became apparent. The front of her uniform was soaked in dark red and several ominous cuts and lacerations dotted the woman’s body.

“Mirialia”, he cried out amidst the confusion and chaos around him. She’s slowly came to her eyes opening and meeting his. “Cap…tain”, was all she said.

“Don’t talk”, Zane answered pulling off his jacket and tearing its sleeves into strips. After a few moments he fashioned several crude tourniquets from the material and proceeded to dress and bandage her wounds as best as possible given virtually no true medical supplies.

“What the hell was going on”, he mused as he quickly worked his hands covered in his own blood as well as Mirialia’s. He tightened the last tourniquet and propped her against the wall.

“Listen to me Mirialia”, he said sternly. “Commander, I said listen up”, he shouted to get her attention which was wavering. She nodded indicating she understood. Zane could tell she was in a great deal of pain. She obviously had some internal damage having caught the brunt of the explosion. “Commander, I’m going to go find some help. Until I return you have to remain awake and alert, do you hear me! That’s a direct order Commander from a superior officer!”

“Aye sir”, she weakly replied. Zane realized she didn’t have long unless he could get her to a medical facility. He frantically clawed his remains of his jacket for his communicator. As he suspected it was dead along with the entire communications system he gathered. He’d give the Romulans credit – they were efficient and cunning bastards.

“Mirialia, I’m going to get help. Wait here until I return and stay awake. If you don’t our date is off and I won’t let you ride in my fighter, understand?”

Mirialia weakly smiled at the Captain’s attempt at humor despite the circumstances.

Zane stood pulling out his sidearm from his shoulder holster beneath his arm as he checked its settings. He set the controls to kill. The weapon was Romulan. Efficient and accurate, he preferred the Romulan disruptor pistol for several reasons, but right now what he cherished it for most was its incomparable lethality. Turning toward the gaping hole exposing the firefight outside, Zane leapt through the opening racing thorough the smoke and flames and into the lion’s den. He’d make a few of these bastards pay for what they had done to Mirialia.

Emerging from the smoke and debris, Zane was greeted by a scene that was unfathomable, even for him. Romulan soldiers were pouring across the compound. Green and red weapons fire crisscrossed the area as Starfleet and Romulan forces returned fire for fire in a chaotic battle that Zane realized could be an opening gambit of a Romulan ploy to attack and or invade a weakened Federation. He had little time to evaluate the possible implications of an attack and their political costs. He had to find a medic or at the very least a med kit if Mirialia was to have any chance at survival. Time was not on his side.

Crouching down against a nearby wall, Zane came upon a wounded cadet who was nursing his shoulder having taken an unfortunate hit from a disruptor. Luckily for him, the beam had cauterized the wound on impact reducing the bleeding. Despite its grotesqueness, Zane realized the cadet would be alight. “What the hell happened”, he asked the cadet pulling him out of the line of fire and back behind an outcropping of one of the nearby buildings.

“Don’t know sir. The compound here was hit by several explosions. Power, communications went out, and then the Romulans appeared out of thin air. I got hit a few minutes ago, that’s all I know sir”, the cadet replied between labored breaths.

“Sit tight. Stay out of the way, I’m sure this whole mess will be over shortly.”

A disruptor beam exploded above Zane’s head showing him and the cadet in fragments of dusty debris. Zane swore and returned fire his expert marksmanship dropping of the Romulan assailants. Searching the area, this entire corner was fenced in leaving no where to go except through the raging firefight. Zane had to get to some medical equipment or else Mirialia was finished.

“Captain”, the cadet muttered, “You’re not planning on going out there are you?”

“Son, sometimes duty takes courage, sacrifice, and if you can’t muster those you just tell yourself you are a damned fool and do what it takes anyway. I’ve got someone I have to help as a result of this fiasco so if you’ll excuse me I have a few Romulans I’d like to give a piece of my mind.”

Disruptor blazing, Zane Akina ran into the battle leaving the wounded cadet behind. He had a singular purpose – to find some help for Mirialia. His anger grew in intensity like the fires around him fueled by a strong sense of duty. He was determined to locate some medical help for Mirialia and if he had to take on a Romulan army to accomplish that goal – so be it.

Zane Akina

Affair on Astate: Reassignment, Romance, & Romulans? - Part II

Pressing his body flat against a concrete wall, Zane Akina clutched his arm which had been grazed by weapons fire as he had crossed the maelstrom of weapons fire and chaos that surrounded this section of the Starfleet facilities. He could feel the warm stickiness of his wound through his fingers as he caught his breath still trying to piece together what was going on here. His frustration was absolute as he had no back doors to exploit, no escape routes to use, nor contingency plans on which to fall back upon. On Mars, a mere whisper would have produced armed men, weapons, supplies, emergency transports, perhaps even aerial or orbital weapons support. Here on Astate he had nothing having only just arrived a few days ago.

Cursing his misfortune an errant disruptor beam suddenly tore into the concrete above his head showering him in dust and debris as the wall crumbled under the beam’s fury. Dropping to the ground, Zane grumbled again as he desperately searched for more cover. This facility was built to keep people out as well as keep people in – he couldn’t locate an entrance and time was running out.

With a burst of speed, Zane jumped to his feet like a sprinter leaving his mark and bolted across a grassy field as beams flew past him in all directions. Spotting a possible entrance he altered course and dove into a line of hedges just as several green beams sliced into the walls above him raining down sparks and debris.

Coughing, Zane pulled himself from the bushes as he spotted a doorway guarded by three cadets and one or two marines. He quickly made his way there only to be held up by his own people before they realized he was not a Romulan.

“Captain, what the hell were you thinking”, a gruff marine shouted at him pulling him back into the relative safety of the doorway. “You could have been killed running across there like that!”

“Couldn’t be helped”, Zane answered brushing the twigs and leaves from his hair and shoulders. “There’s wounded on the other side of the courtyard. Some are in critical condition. Where the hell is the garrison? Why aren’t there more troops down here?”

“I don’t know”, the marine shouted firing off a few shots of cover fire with his phaser rifle. “Communications are out and everyone appears to be scattered. We can’t coordinate efforts with the blackout and power failures. I suspect half our forces are trapped inside as a result of the power outages. With a loss this serious most of the more critical areas are sealed off by bulkheads for security. They aren’t easy to open without power and computer access.”

“There’s always something”, Zane muttered to himself.

“How bad do you think it is?”

“Take that you green-blooded SOBs”, the marine yelled laying down a pattern of merciless crossfire along with the other cadets guarding the open doorway.

“Bad enough! Look around you! Sorry sir, looks like the Rommies hit with dozens of platoons, hell it may even be company or battalion strength at this point, I can’t tell, they just keep coming!”

Zane nodded as he looked out into the firefight. Romulans never acted this impulsively about anything. They were calculators, devious, subversive, and clever. Force was not unknown to them, but they applied it only when needed, not on a whim and certainly not like cavalier Klingons seeking honor and glory. There was a reason for this assault – it was either a diversion to keep Starfleet’s attention from something elsewhere or they wanted something inside the facility, something they were willing to kill for to obtain. Ulterior motives were hallmarks of Romulan strategies and something didn’t add up.

A disruptor blast exploded against the wall near Zane snapping him from his momentary contemplations.

“Sergeant, where’s medical from here? There are several persons who are in desperate need of medical attention and if they don’t get it in a few minutes it’ll be too late.”

“You can’t get to it from here. It’s sealed off.”

“What about a med kit? Are there any emergency kits around here?”

The marine stopped and looked at the captain. “You planning to run back through that mess again?”

“If I have to”, Zane answered.

“There’s a weapon’s cache down the hallway to the left. There should be some medical supplies in there.”

The marine fired several shots before turning back to the captain. “Sir if you…” The marine stopped realizing the heroic captain was gone. The sergeant smiled silently wishing the insane captain luck as he went back to his duty of defending the doorway.

Affair on Astate: Reassignment, Romance, & Romulans? - Part III

Zane ran down the near black corridors inside of the large Starfleet complex searching for the hallway the marine had been talking about. Power was still out and only a few dim emergency lights spaced along the hallway provided enough light to navigate their depths. Hanging the first left he came across, Zane found a small room with lockers, supplies, and weapons. Digging around in the room he managed to locate a med-kit which he quickly checked. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but had enough supplies for emergency triage. Spotting a tricorder, Zane quickly opened it and was able to pull up a map of the facility. A few moments of configuration had the tricorder acting like a personal radar unit which would scan the hallways for movement and heat signatures several meters ahead giving him advance notification of any life forms. Grabbing the med kit, Zane searched the room for weapons, but came up with only a type I phaser which he shoved into his pocket. Practically useless in a firefight, no wonder it had been left behind. The other weapons were gone having been distributed to able bodied cadets and marines sometime earlier. He checked the powercell of his disruptor pistol. It was nearly empty. He’d been a tad overzealous with his firing which might very well cost him.

Shoving the weapon back into his shoulder holster, Zane sped out of the room tricorder in hand having charted a faster path back to Mirialia from inside the building. He wouldn’t have to cross the battlefield again and hoped none of the hallways had been blocked.

His footfalls echoed loudly in the empty corridor as he ran. The tricorder suddenly chirped indicating an obstruction ahead. Zane slowed and found himself face to face with one of the blast proof security bulkheads the sergeant had mentioned. Checking the tricorder he quickly realized this was the only path back to Mirialia. If he tried to go around this door it would take more time and there was no guarantee that other routes wouldn’t also be blocked by these accursed blast doors.

Dropping the medkit to the floor he quickly ran to the door’s controls. With power out the computer was offline, but each door had a manual release mechanism. After a few moments Zane located the manual override pulling off the secured plate and tossing it aside. A heavy hydraulic lever was inside which he grabbed and pulled but was unable to budge. Gripping the lever with both hands, Zane put his weight into it as the lever resisted. Neglected and probably untested for years, such backup systems were installed, but never seriously meant to be used. Maintenance was always lacking on such systems.

With time against him, Zane struggled with the lever which refused to move frozen in place by neglect and the passage of time. Frustrated and brimming with anger, Zane kicked the lever again and again before gripping it and pulling with every ounce of strength he could manage. The tendons and muscles of his shoulders and arms bulged and quivered in silent protest.

Suddenly the lever broke free from its housing. Gasping, Zane cursed the metallic handle and slowly pumped it backwards and forwards to manually separate the thick metal door one pump at a time. After several minutes he had managed to separate the door by a few inches. Two or three more minutes passed as the huge doors sat about a foot and a half apart. It would have to do – he was out of time. Mirialia’s life depended on him getting back to her.

Zane grabbed the medkit and exhaled shoving himself between the narrow gap that separated the two massive doors. “Definitely going on a diet”, he grunted as he wiggled his sore, wounded body through the opening. Emerging on the other side his tricorder erupted in his hand as dozens of blips filled its tiny screen. It was impossible to tell if the movements detected up ahead were friend or foe, but he had no choice but to press onward.

Holstering the tricorder in favor of his disruptor pistol, he tightened his grip on both his weapon and on the medkit before setting off slowly down the hallway. It wasn’t long before his worst fears were realized. Romulans had breached the interior and had established a small cell of resistance at an opening not too dissimilar from the one caused by the earlier explosion that had wounded him and Mirialia. Leaning around a corner, Zane could see a long hallway. At its end was the doorway which would lead him straight back to Mirialia. Somehow he had to get to it, but with Romulans everywhere how was he going to make it with any real chance of survival?

Zane leaned against the wall closing his eyes gripping his weapon. He was an SFI agent, not a solider. He never liked playing marines preferring more cerebral challenges like games of skill, misdirection, and cunning. Tactics, guile, and stealth were his strengths, not brute force. His thoughts drifted to Mirialia, whose wounded body was burned into his memory. He had to get to her! She didn’t deserve to die here in this place, not like this.

He suddenly had an idea. It was crazy, absolutely insane, but given the circumstances it was the best he could devise with time against him. Steadying his mind he had to think as his body pumped chemicals into his blood stream making it difficult for him to concentrate. His Romulan was rusty, he hadn’t used it for awhile, especially since the Dominion had reared its ugly head for a second time. He was sure with a few weeks practice it would all come back, but now with adrenaline running through him all he could come up with were a few choice phrases that didn’t make much sense, but might confuse the Romulan’s long enough for him to get past them before they knew what was happening.

He sucked it one final breath. It was now or never. He rounded the corner and made his way toward the door. He didn’t care how many Romulans were before him. It mattered little now as they could hear his approach and there was no going back.

“Vaed'rae (Attention)”, he yelled as he ran toward the half dozen Romulans firing out into the courtyard from their vantage points. “Havams! Havams! Kholairlh-a deleth mnevher! (Humans, humans, elements protect us!)”

Zane didn’t blink he just kept running with the door in sight.

The Romulans wavered as a body running at top speed came out of nowhere shouting to them in their native tongue though it seemed to make little sense. The soldiers stopped firing and turned some fearing a Starfleet assault was coming from the panic filled shouts of comrade. Zane ran by them as fast as his legs could carry him. Momentary confusion set in as the Romulans were reluctant to fire their eyes seeing a human running past them while their ears heard the words of a Romulan.

“Beest”, one of the guards shouted. (Halt!)

Zane continued to run. He was almost there. A few more moments and he’d be out of harms way.

“Hna'h, Hna'h! (FIRE FIRE!), shouted one of the soldiers as the ruse evaporated. Zane continued to sprint his heart pounding as disruptor beams tore into the walls around him. Several beams sliced into the door before him spraying the area in smoke and debris. At that instant his foot caught something on the floor sending him flying forward. Zane came to a stop only a few meters from the now burning exit dazed, hurt, and reeling from having tripped.

Reality suddenly hit home as he felt the unmistakable edge of a rifle press into the soft underside of the back of his skull. “Fvadt (damn)”, he muttered aloud his mind still partially engaged in speaking Romulan.

“Au`rh yy'a havam (you’re dead human)”, came the response he had feared all along. He had failed to reach Mirialia. Just as his life was soon to be forfeit her’s too would suffer the same fate as soon as the Romulan pulled the trigger.

Zane didn’t struggle, he waited for the inevitable unable to stop himself from wondering if there was another way he could have approached the situation. Was there another way? Some other strategy that evaded him? His calculating mind didn’t allow for much else in that split second.

He heard the whine of the weapon, but felt no pain. Was death truly this quick and painless?

The body of a dead Romulan fell next to him his cold, lifeless eyes staring into his own as they lay together on the floor.

“GET UP AND RUN YOU CRAZY SUNNUVA BITCH”, came a loud, gruff voice from the other end of the hallway. Zane sat up and could make out the sergeant and a few armed cadets in the distance laying down a heavy field of covering fire. They were keeping the Romulans pinned down. For some reason they had followed him here and couldn’t have arrived at a better time.

Zane scrambled to his feet clutching the med kit as weapons fire exploded everywhere in the narrow hallway. Racing to the exit, Zane looked back at the cadets and the sergeant. He was too far away to communicate anything meaningful through the chaos with words. Standing briefly at the doorway, Zane saluted the sergeant as his only means of thanks before racing off down the hallway. Mirialia was only a few hundred meters away and he prayed he wasn’t too late…

Affair on Astate: Reassignment, Romance, & Romulans? - Part IV

StarFleet Facilities

A twisted, hellish funhouse was the only thing Zane Akina could use to describe the current situation he found himself in only there was nothing fun about it. Startled at every turn by unknown forces sometimes friendly, sometimes not and blocked by debris on an ever changing path Akina swore if he survived this disaster of an attack which had caught Starfleet with its pants down that heads were going to roll at least in the intelligence divisions. Someone somewhere should have seen this coming –intelligence’s primary job was to provide forewarning of just these types of events and stop them in the shadows or at least give the military planners time to prepare defenses. It wasn’t a perfect science as operatives and analysts often had to piece together bits of data into a big picture view that wasn’t always clear. An all out assault on Starfleet facilities would have had warning signs – troop buildups, increased subspace traffic, shifting of key personnel to new or unusual posts, hardware movement – soft intelligence like this spoke volumes about an adversaries intentions or future actions.

Dismissing his frustrations there was little time to worry about such matters. Here in the present he had to find a way to survive this madness. Running down a dark corridor, Zane heard a loud whine that grew louder. It sounded like aircraft, but without visual confirmation he couldn’t be sure. Had Starfleet finally managed to scramble some air defenses to provide cover? A moment later the building shuttered around him with a fury that launched him forward as his body rolled across the floor. He could hear explosions muffled by feet of concrete, steel, and other building materials. Something had just struck the building somewhere above – perhaps a fighter or support ship. That could only mean the situation was deteriorating.

Wiping the blood running down his face and from the corner of his mouth, Zane stood again and continued to run down the hall. He stopped suddenly at a junction point to check his tricorder for directions and quickly realized there were several dead Romulans nearby. He quickly pulled his weapon and much to his relief the troops were indeed dead. Frisking the bodies he came away with two extra power cells for his disruptor pistol, another small medkit, a few Romulan grenades, and a disruptor rifle. Stashing the items on his person, he continued down the hall turning the corner until he finally returned to the hallway that he had left sometime ago when the attacks had begun.

“Mirialia”, he shouted spotting her body still in the same position he had left her in against the wall. He rushed to her side scrambling to see if she was still alive. “Mirialia, speak to me”, he shouted gripping her by the shoulders. The Lt. Commander was unresponsive as he shook her trying to get some sign of life from the woman. “Damn it, don’t do this to me”, he shouted pushing his ear close to her mouth and nose. Zane could hear shallow breathing; it was faint, but noticeable. Opening the med kit, Zane scanned her with the tricorder finally getting a look at the extent of her injuries.

He spat his own blood seeping into the corner of his mouth as he ran the scanner over the length of her body. It’s results were not promising. She had several deep lacerations on her arms and torso, the signs of a mild concussion, and had suffered blunt force trauma to her abdomen which had caused either severe bruising or possible internal bleeding he couldn’t be sure.

He prepped a stimulant to give her, but stopped. She was unconscious and a stimulant could send her further into shock or possibly kill her in her present condition. He couldn’t use it, at least, not right now. He injected her instead with a coagulant to help stop the bleeding as he did his best to partially heal some of the more dangerous wounds with a dermal regenerator. After several minutes he checked again – her vitals were still unstable, but he had stopped most of the bleeding and stabilized her injuries. She still needed medical attention and soon, but his patch job would buy her some additional time for him to figure how to escape this mess and find safety if there even was such a thing.

Small fires still burned as Zane looked out of the massive hole torn into the building from the earlier explosion. The courtyard area he had crossed sometime earlier was awash in fierce fighting. Green and red beams crisscrossed the grassy field leaving little room for cover or shelter. Anyone not eating the dirt or tucked behind heavy cover had little chance for survival under such murderous fire. It still seemed impossible to him that a Starfleet facility had been so totally compromised by an enemy force.

As he looked on pockets of resistance appeared to be turning their fire skyward. Aircraft were visible, but they were Romulan. Zane quickly came to the realization that the Romulans were firing on their own support craft. Why would they do such a thing? More time passed as air units fired on ground units Romulan against Romulan. Green beams were interspersed with purple ones from the opposing forces.

Zane tried to make sense of the situation, but his knowledge of local politics and affairs was poor. Was there some internal power struggle? A civil war? He didn’t have any answers and not knowing was tearing him apart. He had to make rash decisions without any information which wasn’t beyond him, but he hated acting blind.

His thoughts evaporated in an instant as his eyes snapped open at what he saw before him. A troop carrier, having strayed too close to the battlefield, was quickly caught in a barrage of fire from a well disguised position at the edge of the campus grounds. Disruptors slicing through its hull, the carrier was quickly set ablaze as it struggled to leave the area. It was too late. Its engines loosing power the large carrier abruptly jerked 90 degrees and nose dived toward the ground straight for Zane and Mirialia.

He could do nothing but watch, there wasn’t time to react. Throwing his body over her, Zane tightly closed his eyes as the cockpit of the carrier slammed into the ground with the force of a small bomb. Metal exploded as the mass of the craft dug into the grass and dirt tearing a path through the courtyard like a giant plow. Dirt erupted in all directions showering the entire area with damp earth as the large craft carved a path straight for the building. Zane braced for the worse as the whine of the engines grew louder and the sounds of an approaching train wreck drowned out all other noises.

Zane cracked an eye when the explosion and impact he had expected never came. He turned his head – outside the carrier had come to a stop a few feet away from the edge of the building and the hole that had exposed the hallway Zane was now staring through. Smoke poured from the craft’s aft section and its cockpit was gone having absorbed the brunt of the impact. Much of the forward section of the craft was burying several feet into the dirt or crushed beyond recognition.

Zane let out a sigh of relief that was filled with a new apprehension that he might not make it through this attack. The stakes were higher than he first expected now and both sides were playing for keeps - this was a war plain and simple. A commando raid or surgical strike would have been over minutes ago the scale and breadth of troops, firepower, and damage had convinced him the Romulans were here to seize the facility or die trying.

One this he knew for sure was that he had to get out of here along with Mirialia. They couldn’t stay here. He was afraid to move her, but he didn’t have much choice. His own wounds were catching up with him and he couldn’t keep this level of intensity up for too much longer without some rest. Reaching onto the medkit, he pulled a hypo out and stuck it into his neck. He winced as a stimulant was injected into his bloodstream. He hoped it would last long enough for him to find some shelter away from this madness. Moments later he felt some strength return as he packed up the medical kit and secured it to his belt. Standing he picked up Mirialia and pulled her onto his shoulder her limp body heavy and difficult to carry.

Determined to find some safety, Zane set off carrying a woman he barely knew down the wrecked hallway. He knew there were cadets around here somewhere – even unseasoned rookies would be preferable to going it alone against the swarms of Romulans who appeared to be overrunning the facility.

As he pressed on Zane was painfully aware of one fact that was now haunting him like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. He was a Starfleet intelligence officer. If he was taken captive, the Romulans, would most surely attempt to extract the knowledge that existed in his head and would do so using a variety of painful and effective methods. Torture was not something he was looking forward to especially not at the hands of Romulan intelligence officers like the Tal’Shiar. He’d rather go out in a blaze of glory than end up a quivery mass of flesh in some dark interrogation chamber.

Despite carrying Mirialia’s body over his shoulders, Zane pulled his pistol. He wasn’t going to allow them to be captured. Whatever fate had in store for them, being taken prisoner was not an option. He’d make sure that possibility didn’t occur - one way or another.

Affair on Astate: Reassignment, Romance, & Romulans? - Part V

Blackness.

Zane was utterly lost inside the lower levels of Starfleet Tower 1. Without power each hallway was a shadowy venture into the dangerous unknown. Voices called out suddenly from the darkness piercing the unnatural silence. An occasional weapon discharge brought with it fear of further Romulan incursions. Frantic officers and enlisted personnel ran about the darkened halls like frightened animals fleeing the approach of a vicious predator.

Starfleet’s teeth had been pulled, its bite tame, its power shattered. Fear, panic, and despair floated through the confusing, haunting hallways. Communications had failed, personnel and leadership were separated or in some cases trapped behind security doors, and only small pockets of resistance had formed to fend off the Romulan threat. Casualties seemed to be everywhere having been caught in explosions, hit in exchanges of fire, or injured in random collateral damage.

Zane’s expression was solemn as he trudged through the hell that had been wrought on Astate. He turned a blind eye to the carnage, suffering, fear, and despair that was slowly gripping those lost in the black maze of twisting corridors and endless hallways. Running purely on adrenaline, an earlier shot of stimulants, and willpower he moved forward carrying the body of Lt. Commander Marialia on his shoulders whose own medical condition was rapidly deteriorating. His years with SFI had blunted his sense of compassion something that had always concerned him. The longer he worked in SFI the more of his humanity seemed to slip away, but in the end it was all he had ever known, and leaving the family was fraught with peril and hazards all its own. One never truly left the intelligence community. There were always strings attached, debts to be paid and collected to friend and foes alike.

Step after painful step, Zane pressed forward. He didn’t know where he was headed. All he knew is that it was away from the front line fighting. Perhaps he might find a doctor or medic who could help Mirialia along the way; at least they would be out of the line of fire.

He shielded his eyes with his hand when suddenly a burst of intense white light cut through the blackness with the power and brightness of a supernova. Not waiting for the light to disappear, the first he had seen in what seemed like hours, Zane ran toward it like a moth to a flame uncertain what lie beyond its blinding center.

Stepping through the glowing doorway, Zane struggled to see his eyes having difficulty adjusting to the lighting. This room had power.

“CAPTAIN”, a voice called out. Blurred images of people surrounded him. It took him a few moments to collect himself from the intensity of the light to the voices demanding his attention.

“Captain, are you alright sir”, a cadet asked. Several cadets swarmed the senior officer and helped take Mirialia off his shoulders. A few cadets trained in first aid went to work applying their craft to the injured woman. Zane was about to protest, but was interrupted by a flood of young officers.

“What’s going on”, Zane said with authority his annoyance and fatigue showing through his tough exterior.

“We were hoping you could tell us sir! You’re the first officer we’ve seen since the power went out.”

“Power? How is that possible?”, Zane asked.

“Backup generators. They’re required equipment for most military hangars.”

Zane looked around finding himself standing in the center of a huge hangar surrounded by several squadrons of fighters. Most of the cadets were pilots, but others made up ground crew, support staff, and other flight related posts. There didn’t appear to be a one of them over the age of 25.

He turned back toward Mirialia, who was getting the royal treatment. Two of the cadets sensing the captain’s concern looked up. “She’s in tough shape sir, but I think she’ll make it.”

Zane nodded. He had medical field and survival training, but he was no doctor. These kids seemed better at playing doctor than him and probably were. Despite his extreme fatigue, aching muscles, loss of blood, and several serious gashes of his face and arms, Zane took command of the situation. Duty and training took over as he suddenly sensed a chance to level the playing field.

“How many pilots are there here?”

“Thirty two sir”, someone shouted.

“I’m going to give it to you straight men”, he said gruffly. This was no time for speeches. These boys were going to have to grow up and quickly though it pained him to be the one to tell them.

“Romulans have attacked the academy en masse. We may be looking at brigade or possibly battalion strength forces out there with reinforcements on the way. They have launched an all out assault on the academy grounds.”

Most of the cadets stood silent in the vast hangar transfixed by the senior officer’s words.

“Power has been knocked out throughout the facility. Communications have failed, security protocols appear to be preventing marines and security forces from mounting an effective counterattack. You men may very well be the last, best defense we have left against the Romulans.” Zane paused for only a moment to let his words sink in. “I know combat wasn’t what you expected when you woke up this morning, but it’s here. You’ve sworn an oath to the fleet and to the Federation. It’s time to defend what you’ve all sworn to protect. This isn’t going to be easy, but duty in the face of danger rarely is. I’m not your commanding officer, I’m just a captain caught up this situation just like you, but you have to make a decision right now. Fight or run. I’m not here to judge, only to tell you what you’re up against.”

None of the cadets moved. It appeared they had all made their decision. Many of them were visibly angry as they learned what was going on outside.

Zane pointed toward the hangar door. Let’s get those doors open – you men are combat pilots. It’s time you got out there and showed the Romulan’s what happens to those who plan sneak attacks.”

“We can’t open the doors sir. We’ve tried. The computer is locked out and all of the security mechanisms are frozen in place”, one of the cadets stated.

Zane looked at the doors. Without the proper security codes the massive steel doors weren’t going anywhere. A manual override could take hours and he doubted there was enough manpower in the hangar to push the massive doors open without mechanical assistance. On Mars he could have had a trusted team of computer specialists here in a moments notice to ‘bypass’ to codes or break them if necessary all of which could be done in minutes not hours. This wasn’t Mars and his knowledge of intelligence infrastructure was poor to none on Astate.

“I’ll take care of that.” Zane pushed his way passed the cadets and made his way to the lead fighter sitting on the line in formation. Pulling himself up onto the wing he turned and shouted out to the crowd of cadets. “All of you find some cover now! Get to the other end of the hangar on the double!” “GO”, he shouted. As the cadets moved off, some reluctantly, Zane dropped into the seat of the fighter. He wasn’t familiar with this model, but it appeared to be a short range superiority fighter which was perfect for the task at hand. A few buttons activated the ubiquitous computer systems that were found in most combat aircraft. After a few moments, Zane had the weapons systems warming up.

He stood from the cockpit and looked back to ensure everyone had indeed backed off. Falling back inside, he closed the canopy of the fighter and locked the craft’s weapons squarely on the center of the two double doors.

“Computer, lock phasers on target.”

[ Target Locked ]

“Fire phasers.”

Twin crimson phaser beams cut across the hangar bay slamming into the hangar doors. The white metal warped under the assault turning a pale red as metal was superheated. The center of the doors liquefied and began running down forming a pool of molten metal on the deck plates below. Despite the barrage, the thick, shielded doors weren’t budging having been engineered to take a protect the internal facility from external attacks.

Zane had no choice. In his mind these fighters had to be allowed to fight. His information was lacking, but all signs pointed to a Starfleet defeat unless more resistance could be brought against the enemy and soon. “Computer, lock micro torpedoes on hangar bay doors. Set yield to 25 percent…FIRE!”

Two torpedoes streaked out from the fighter slamming into the doors. A reddish explosion enveloped the deck rocking his fighter before subsiding. As the dust cleared the doors, visibly mangled, still resisted the punishment they were absorbing.

“Computer, Increase yield to 65 percent of maximum. Load a three torp spread. FIRE!”

Three more torpedoes left their tube streaking out toward the door in a flash of light. The explosions shook the hangar like an earthquake as air rushed about knocking over equipment and people. A few moments later, two cadets following the Captain’s bold lead, jumped into their fighters and within moments were aiding Zane in dismantling the hangar doors with their phasers as giant chunks of metal fell forward exposing an opening wide enough for the fighters to launch through.

Zane opened the canopy and jumped from the fighter. The cadets returned some shocked by the Captain’s seemingly reckless actions.

“What now”, one of them asked.

“Now you get your fighters out there and take the fight to the enemy”, Zane responded looking back at the giant hole that now existed in the two massive doors. “You’re pilots, some of you are squadron leaders – it’s time to put your training to use. Your fellow students and officers are being massacred out there – I suspect they could use the morale boost of seeing a few Starfleet fighters and I know they could use the air support to pin down some of the Romulan thrust.”

“Its up to us”, one of the squadron leaders shouted taking command of the situation.

Zane limped off as the cadets took the initiative. They were young and inexperienced, but being young meant they were also fearless, cocky, and willing to prove themselves. After a few moments, Zane located Mirialia who was conscious.

“Commander, can you hear me”, Zane said kneeling down toward her.

“Yes”, she replied her voice weak having lost all of its previous musical qualities.

“You’re going to be ok. I’m going to get you some help.”

She nodded the pain again evident on her face.

“Can you walk? We’ve got to get out of here.”

She nodded as Zane helped her to her feet. She could stand, but barely move. Bracing her as best he could, Zane marched across the flight deck which was now awash with personnel as the fighters prepared to take off. Engines whirred to life filling the bay with an overpowering whine as exhaust and air rushed backwards created by the crafts’ powerful engines.

Zane left the flight deck, confident it was in good hands, as he struggled once more into the dark depths of the Starfleet facility with Mirialia at his side.

Twenty minutes later Zane, staggering through the relative darkness, found his way to a concentration of people. Wading through the civilians, Zane approached a security checkpoint.

“Halt”, the guard shouted. “No unauthorized personnel..”

“Akina, Captain, Starfleet Intelligence. Clearance Level Two – I’m authorized”, he said in a cold tone, his eyes narrowing letting the guard know he was in no mood for funny business. The guard seemed unwilling to permit him passage despite Zane’s credentials.

“Sergeant, your commitment to duty is admirable, but can I assume that beyond that door is the command center?”

“Perhaps”, the guard stated. “I’ve been instructed to permit no one inside during the current crisis and..”

Zane pulled his disruptor and aimed it squarely at the guard’s chest. “Sergeant, you will permit myself and the Lt. Commander passage now. I have vital information from the front lines and you are obstructing delivery of that information. I’m giving you a direct order as a Starfleet captain in Intelligence to step aside NOW!”

The guard failed to move, but at last relented. “Fine”, was all he said unimpressed by Akina’s theatrics.

Akina, Mirialia hanging from his side, moved passed the guard and into the command center whose interior was bustling with personnel scrambling to defend against the Romulans.

“Who the hell are you”, a pretentious commander shouted seeing Zane and Mirialia, covered in each other’s blood, caked with dirt and grime, and wearing tattered uniforms.

“Captain Zane Akina, Starfleet Intelligence. This is commander Mirialia. Is there a doctor here, she needs immediate medical care.”

The commander grimaced at the sight of the officers. “Yes, this way.”

Zane followed the man to a makeshift medical ward that had been setup in what appeared to be barracks of some type. Helping Mirialia onto a bed, Zane collapsed into a nearby chair his strength gone. He was utterly exhausted.

“Captain, you’ve lost a lot of blood”, one of the attending medics said as they moved into to examine the new arrivals.

“Hadn’t noticed”, Zane responded suddenly feeling light headed.

“The commander, how is she”, he asked as the medic wiped a painful alcohol swab across the various gashes and cuts on his face and neck. “She’s hurt, internal bleeding, a few broken bones, superficial wounds. She should pull through. You got her to us just in time.”

Akina fell backwards in the chair. He didn’t care about anything else now. He’s saved her life and somehow survived himself. As the doctors poured over him, he closed his eyes. He could feel painkillers being injected. A few minutes later his consciousness faded. He didn’t need to fight anymore for the moment. His eyes grew heavier until at last he could no longer struggle against their weight. This wasn’t how he had planned spending his first week at a new job. It was certainly a change, but this wasn’t the sort of change he was looking for. His part in the fight was over now – it was up to others to turn the tide. He had faith, but after what he had seen today, that faith was being tested. Only time would tell the outcome.

Affair on Astate: Reassignment, Romance, & Romulans? - Part VI

His eyes slowly opened. The room slowly came into focus as his eyes adjusted to the light. He was somewhere unfamiliar. His mind, not fully operational as it shook off the last vestiges of sleep, had no idea where it was. A wave of adrenaline shot through him and he bolted upright in his cot.

His quick actions were met with a burst of pain from his left shoulder. He clutched it as his memory slowly returned. The room he was in was filled with wounded. Doctors, nurses, and medics were tending to patients some in serious condition and others like him, with lesser, non-life threatening injuries. Zane realized his arm was bandaged. It appeared the doctors hadn’t had time to use a dermal regenerator on him, opting to stop the bleeding first and then go back later and treat the wound - that is if there was a later.

He stood grabbing the nearby wall for support. His legs ached from the abuse he had put them through. Every muscle in his body was sore, tired, and overworked. The last few hours had been hell. Zane suddenly wondered how long he had been asleep and how the battle was progressing. His survival instincts again took hold, but first he had to check on something.

“Nurse”, he called out flagging down a tired officer who looked as though she had been working for hours on end. Her eyes seemed devoid of all emotion and exhaustion was evident on her face.

“Captain, you shouldn’t be up”, she said. “Please, sit down and get some rest. You had a busy day.”

“Haven’t we all”, he muttered back. The nurse nodded with a faint trace of a smile. “I came in here with a woman, a Lt. Commander.”

“She’s doing fine Captain. Now please, I have other patients to attend to.”

“May I see her?”

“I believe she is asleep sir. Please, just relax and get some rest sir. I’ll be by to check on you later.”

The nurse moved off leaving Zane alone in the corner he found himself in. Despite the doctor’s orders, Zane wasn’t usually one to follow the rules. He was shirtless, his clothing having been cut away so that the doctors could get to his wounds no doubt. His weapons were missing which was of some concern to him, but right now he needed to find out what was going on.

Slowly he tested his legs. Both felt as heavy as lead and painfully reminded him they were exhausted each time he instructed them to move. Despite his discomfort, Zane headed out of the room and back toward the command area he remembered passing through. It wasn’t long before he located the room which was jammed with officers who seemed to have some grasp of the current situation.

“What’s the situation”, Zane asked moving up to a makeshift holographic table many of the officers were crowded around.

“Who are you”, a commander snidely asked. “You’re not authorized to be here. Get back to the medical area.”

“Captain Zane Akina, SFI. I’m not sure I appreciate your tone Commander.”

The commander seemed put off by Zane’s rank and appearance, but retreated slightly in his harshness toward the captain. “My apologies sir”, the commander replied with little remorse. “Your rank was not immediately evident.”

“What’s the situation”, Zane repeated his question.

Zane thought he heard someone behind him mumble something about intelligence officers wasting the military’s time in a critical situation, but he dismissed it. He hadn’t joined intelligence to be loved or worshiped. It was true that many people had a low opinion of intelligence officers due to the department’s methods, tactics, and behind the scenes way of operating. SFI was not a transparent organization, nor should it be. He always figured that frightened people, but being on the inside looking out he was never quite sure what it was that put people off. He was doing his job to protect the Federation just like anyone else – the methods were different, but the duty was the same.

“We are here”, the commander said pointing to the holographic map. “The Romulans have pockets of troops here, here and here”, he said pointing to various locations. We’ve managed to set up a partial perimeter here and have forces defending several key locations inside tower one. Our location is secure at the time and wounded are being brought here for treatment as our forward units encounter them.

“How many men do we have currently”, Zane asked staring at the map.

“Numbers are difficult with communications down. I’d estimate roughly 75 to 100 men sir.”

“A hundred men, that’s it”, Zane exclaimed.

“We’re doing the best we can under difficult circumstances captain”, the commander shot back with an annoyed tone.

“Your best isn’t good enough commander”, Akina replied leaning against the table. “I just came from out there, nearly got myself killed in the process as my arm here will attest. We have brave men and women dying out there by the dozens. We don’t need search parties out looking for wounded or trying to contact other units – we need to consolidate our forces here into a position of strength and push back at the enemy now!”

“Push back with what”, a lieutenant chimed into the discussion. “Half our forces are exhausted as it is. Our weapon supplies are dwindling, medical supplies are running low, and without power the replicators are useless. We can’t evacuate with transporters due to all the damned jamming going on out there let alone get a clear transmission to anyone. What do you want us to resist with? Sticks? Rocks? Their disruptors pack a bigger punch than rubble and debris!”

Zane’s eyes narrowed. “Mister, you’re out of line!”

“So are you! Just because you are a captain doesn’t give you the right to barge in here and start giving orders! We haven’t even confirmed your identity, let alone your credentials. What does an intelligence officer know about military tactics and ground operations? Why don’t you just go duck back into the shadows where your kind belong!”

“THAT’S ENOUGH LIEUTENANT”, the commander shouted at his subordinate. The entire command center sat silent as the drama between officers played out before them.

Zane stood up despite his extreme discomfort. “Gentlemen, I’m not inclined to fight both you and the Romulans. Before I arrived, I passed two squadrons of fighters. With a little motivation those boys are most certainly out there fighting against the enemy. Right now, we should have a slight edge in air support and if we can mobilize our forces here we might be able to push the Romulans back and hold them until reinforcements arrive.”

“And what if reinforcements don’t arrive captain”, the lieutenant snapped. “We would have sent a hundred officers to their death.”

“Lieutenant, no one who wears that uniform is safe from the unknown and unexpected. You put on that uniform and swore and oath to protect Starfleet and the Federation even at the cost of your own life. I’m sorry that this Romulan attack has made you uncomfortable, but from time to time Starfleet has to get its hands dirty. If you’re not willing to do your duty then I suggest you resign your commission now and relieve yourself from duty and go cower in the back. Starfleet doesn’t need cowards right now nor any heroes, just men of conscious with the will to do what is right. Now you’re either in this thing to win or your not. Which is it Lieutenant?”

“Captain, may I have a word with you in private”, the commander said attempting to pull Akina aside.

“No”, Zane replied stepping toward the lieutenant ignoring the commander. “Lieutenant, I just sent thirty cadets out to fight some of them younger than you. Most of them were willing to go once they knew what the stakes were. I suspect they are out there now fighting and even perhaps dying for all of us. Would you dishonor them by retreating the face of the enemy?”

“I don’t have any combat experience”, the lieutenant shouted back. “I’m just an adjutant.”

“Can you fire a phaser?”

“Well..yes.”

“Then you’re a soldier. Just aim it at the enemy and fire. There’s nothing that hard about it. Now I need some out there to spread the word. Get our people assembled back here. Once we can regroup we can assess our situation and come up with a plan of action.” Zane stepped over to a nearby security guard and took his weapon shoving it into the hands of the lieutenant.

The lieutenant looked at the weapon and then back up at Zane.

“It’s called duty lieutenant. Better get used to it because it doesn’t get any easier to swallow the older you get. In fact it gets that much harder.”

Glancing at the commander, the lieutenant marched off weapon in hand to carry out his orders.

“Captain, who do you think you are? Napoleon? This isn’t your own private little war here!”

“The hell its not”, Zane shouted back. “I was having a romantic stroll down a corridor when an explosive shattered the hallway injuring myself and nearly killing my date for the evening. The Romulans have obviously declared war on us by attacking a Starfleet facility and it’s about time we started taking the fight to them. They started this mess and I intend to finish it. Do I make myself clear!”

“Perfectly”, the commander said.

“We’re starting the fight from right here. I’m not going to sit back and be taken prisoner by the Romulans. Do you people have any idea what they do to prisoners? Especially when they want information?”

Everyone in the room fell silent.

“That’s what I thought. Well if you don’t want to end up having your head squeezed for information from mind probes, drugs, or the old fashioned methods, I suggest you get your butts in gear and start trying to win this thing.”

Zane rubbed his head. He could use a cup of coffee right now, but he knew none would be forthcoming.

“Where’s the commanding officer?”

“Who?”

“Where’s the official in charge around here?”

“Admiral Enor?”

“Yes.”

“We don’t know sir. No one has had contact with him since the power failed.”

“Great”, Zane muttered. The base’s commander was MIA and the place was crawling with Romulans whom he still had no idea what they wanted or hoped to achieve by assaulting a Starfleet facility other than creating an incident with the Federation which could spiral into full scale war.

“Sir! Sir”, the lieutenant shouted running back into the command post.

Zane looked up at the excited lieutenant.

“The Romulans are withdrawing. They’re retreating. They just transmitted a message also indicating they are withdrawing.”

Zane shot a glance at the communications officer. “Confirmed, it’s on all channels. The jamming is letting up. They’re withdrawing.”

A collective cheer ran through the command post, but faded quickly.

“Anything else”, Zane asked.

“They’re withdrawing. Bringing in carriers to withdraw their troops. Something about any Romulan that continues to fight is fair game for Starfleet forces – they are considered rogue and should be shot on site. That’s it, message keeps repeating on all frequencies.”

Zane nodded. “There’s a turn of luck”, he said quietly.

“Lieutenant, get our people and form search and rescue teams. Until power is restored, we need to sweep the hallways for survivors and wounded. Remain armed as there still could be Romulans who may not heed the withdrawal orders. If any team encounters any resistance, you are authorized to use force to defend yourselves or others.”

The lieutenant nodded as he rushed back out, but stopped at the doorway. Turning, he looked at Akina and saluted. “Thank you sir”, was all he said before rushing out.

Zane turned toward the commander. “Think you can handle things from here commander”, Zane asked.

“I think I can manage”, the commander said with a hint of coldness in his voice. Zane could sense the man still held a grudge against him for assuming command, but under regulations Zane had every right and duty to do so.

“Carry on then”, Zane said.

Stepping off, tired and hungry, Zane decided to check up on Mirialia. He just hoped they were able to restore power soon. He needed a shower and something warm to drink. With the crisis averted for now, it would be nice to get back to a semi-normal schedule again.

He hoped this new assignment on Astate wouldn’t always be this exciting. He’d had enough excitement to last him quite sometime.

Affair on Astate: A Little Local Trouble - Part I

The power was finally back on, communications had been restored, and most computer systems were again operational. The skirmish with the Romulans was at long last, over. Romulan forces had completely withdrawn and all resistance had surrendered or had been dealt with by Starfleet forces. A strange calm enveloped the Starfleet facilities, a welcome feeling after the hours of touturious fighting and chaos.

Looking out through a cracked glass window several floors above ground level, Zane surveyed the Starfleet grounds from one of the high towers. A thin haze of smoke still hung in the air from a few minor fires. Debris lay strewn everywhere on the campus grounds. Evidence of damage and the tell tale signs of weapons fire crisscrossed nearly every building. He could see the downed Romulan transport that had crashed nearly crushing him and Lt. Commander Mirialia some hours earlier. It’s wreckage was embedded deep into the ground and would takes days to remove and dispose of. He doubted there was any computer equipment of any intelligence value aboard, but the wreck would need a through examining. It was possible this entire affair could shed some additional light on Romulan tactics, organization, morale, and possibly net Starfleet with a few useful nuggets of information extricated from dropped or damaged equipment.

He took a sip of his coffee. The warm liquid was comforting given the last 48 hours. The replicators were back up in some areas granting him access to a soothing stimulant that didn’t come from a doctor’s medkit. Truth was, there was enough intelligence work to keep an army of agents busy yet despite the circumstances he wasn’t even sure what intelligence staff existed on Astate. He still had no official orders and given the circumstances he was inclined to make his own rather that sit and wait.

Sipping his coffee his mind chewed over a few bits of info he had managed to obtain over the last few hours. He learned from a security officer that the Romulans had been after a political refugee who had crash landed a Romulan warship on Astate. The attack on the Starfleet campus was a failed attempt to recover this Romulan officer who appeared to have requested asylum. He certainly needed more information on this development. In time he would get the answers, but it would be weeks before he could develop reliable information networks, meet key Starfleet staff, and last, but not least figure out what he was supposed to be doing other than rescuing damsels in distress and dodging Romulan disruptor beams.

Turning his attention to the matter at hand the computer had indicated an office of some sort existed on this floor for intelligence personnel. He moved through the hallway eventually finding the office whose door was conveniently locked. Fortunately, the hallway was empty. Personnel were busy in rescue operations, clean up, and other duties as Starfleet sought to clean this recent mess up and move on. He had already done his bit for king and country and the time was perfect for him to do a little snooping while everyone’s attention was focused elsewhere. He needed some answers and was not inclined to sit things out waiting for someone to put him to work.

Pulling a small square object from his jacket, Zane placed its magnetic surface against the door and pressed a few buttons on the novelty which any good intelligence officer kept on hand. The computerized locks on the door quickly released their grip and the doors to the intelligence office sprung open a few inches allowing him to force his way inside.

Zane activated the lights and let out a mumbled, “hmmmm”. The office was a mess. First impressions made the office seem like it had been burglarized or that the Romulans had gained access trying to steal secrets, but Zane knew better. The ransacked office was probably the result of inexperienced staff panicking at the Romulan attack and doing what they could to either remove important intelligence information or destroy it so that it couldn’t be taken.

He stepped through the mess of debris that littered the small office. Padds, office supplies, boxes littered the tiny lobby and hallway. A few offices had overturned chairs and furniture. Zane noticed weapons fire and could smell the residual stench of incinerated plastic. They had panicked. He wondered how much useful intelligence data was destroyed by such a boneheaded response.

A few padds that worked contained nothing but outdated intelligence estimates, a few vague intel references regarding Romulan movements, nothing of any real value or interest. He tossed them aside checking the rest of the offices for anything useful. Coming up empty, he wondered how much serious intelligence work actually went on here. There were a few offices, but no computer systems, no locked files, nothing that would indicate a serious intelligence department other than a meager team that performed rudimentary analysis and data gathering. This had the feel of a small outpost with no real field agents of any reasonable caliber.

Zane sighed. Astate wasn’t exactly a strategic port, nor a vital link in Starfleet’s vast security and defense plans. It was in his mind though an excellent, untapped resource which appeared to be underfunded, under staffed, and woefully archaic. Sure Astate wasn’t an intelligence bonanza for thwarting the Dominion or contributing to a swift end to the current war, but it was the closest planet the Federation had to the Romulans to his knowledge. Additionally, the Romulans were camped on the far side of the planet which made intelligence gathering opportunities ideal if not crucial in his mind.

The Romulans had always been unsteady and difficult to trust. They were currently allies, but the relationship was always strained even in the best of times. The chain of listening posts and Starbases along the Neutral Zone was testament to the distrust that still existed between the Federation and the Star Empire. The Romulans had always bore watching and Zane wondered why a golden opportunity seemed to be unrealized in what appeared to be prime real estate.

As he looked around the offices one thing continued to bother him. He wondered if Admiral Enor even received local intelligence estimates from local staff or if that data came from analysts back on Earth or elsewhere who took educated guesses with little understanding of realities on the ground. Zane also wondered if this entire attack might have been prevented or at least stopped cold by accurate intelligence prior to military operations. It was obvious Starfleet had been caught with its pants down. He couldn’t help but wonder if the recent attack might have been prevented with adequate intelligence estimates.

He didn’t have that answer yet, but perhaps he would know in time. One padd in the office seemed to stand out from the others. It had some damage, but wasn’t fully destroyed. He had found it under a pile of charred padd remains having missed total destruction. He wondered if there was any data he could extract from its memory circuits. It appeared important – at least important enough to destroy. In any event, it would give him something to do until things settled down. He shoved the padd into his jacket and headed for the exit.

Zane made his way out of the office and carefully relocked the doors. He had seen enough for one day. Until he had some definite orders he intended to play things by ear and do thing his way until told otherwise.

“What are you doing here”, a voice called out suddenly from behind. Zane cringed silently cursing himself for being careless. He hadn’t anticipated anyone being on this floor.

Zane turned around as a Lt. Commander approached.

“You look like a pilot, what the hell are you doing? This area is restricted. How did you get up here?”

Zane was out of uniform having found a shirt and jacket. He had no access to replicators to replace his bloody, torn, and sweat soaked clothing. Most replicators were dedicated to serving up food and medical supplies at the moment. By all accounts he looked like a fighter pilot, having grabbed a flight jacket from nearby the hangar and a t-shirt that was available in the pilot’s locker room.

“I just wanted to check out the damage from above”, Zane replied seeing if he could dodge the questioning by playing dumb. “That was some firefight. Did you see any action?”

“No”, the commander said directly. “Don’t change the subject. What were you doing hanging around those offices back there?”

“Offices”, Zane replied. “I came up here to get a birds’ eye view of things and needed to use the head. Is that a crime?”

“It is if you’re on a restricted floor.” The commander gave Zane a careful visual inspection. Zane still had a nasty pink scar over his right eye where the doctors had healed the wound he obtained in the fighting, but lacked the time to perform any cosmetic procedures. Zane looked like he had seen some action.

“This floor is restricted. Go on, get out now, before I call security. And don’t come up here again pilot unless you want your wings clipped. If you want to see the damage from above, I suggest you do it from the air. We are just recovering from a major incident and don’t need people wandering around in restricted areas.”

“Yes sir, I apologize”, Zane said apologetically. “All the doors were open and unlocked with the power problems. I didn’t realize there was an issue. Sorry.” He saluted the commander and moved off back toward the stairs. The officer watched him leave down the staircase.

Zane smiled as he slowly took the stairs downward. He pulled the burned padd from his jacket and examined it before tucking it safely back into the folds of his jacket and out of sight. Yawning, he decided to go check up on Mirialia’s condition and perhaps find something to eat. A long nap might also be in order assuming he could find a quiet, out of the way place, to crash and catch some sleep for a few hours. It was anyone’s guess if the temporary quarters he had been issued were still in one piece or had been commandeered for medical or other emergency needs.

He wanted to talk to some of the senior officers here on Astate, but that was probably impossible given the gravity of the situation – at least for now. In a few days perhaps he could schedule an appointment as soon as things settled down. Until then, he planned on getting as much rest as possible. He’d been through hell as of late, and could use some extra sleep.

Affair on Astate: A Little Local Trouble - Part II

“Computer, status”, Zane asked from the small desk in his quarters. Scattered across the work surface were various tools, wires, scanners, bits of plastic and fragmented circuit boards. For the past few hours he had busied himself in an attempt to extract any information from the damaged padd he had discovered while searching the small Astate intelligence offices. The padd, charred and half melted from phaser fire, hadn’t been completely destroyed. It was interesting as it had been valuable enough to destroy, yet someone had been sloppy, rushed, or both allowing it to survive buried under several other pads which weren’t as fortunate.

Zane busied himself with his little project having little else to do. Starfleet was picking up the pieces after the Romulan attacks. Things on the colony were slowly returning to normal. He still lacked any operational orders from command. Until orders came through he was content to amuse himself namely by learning all he could about recent events, local politics, and key personnel both Starfleet and Romulan. The padd before him might contain some tiny tidbit of information that could aid his understanding. He was curious, though doubtful, that the padd held any useful data. Its internal circuits were badly damaged and the computer had had a difficult time extracting data.

[ Processing final data block. Standby. ], the computer responded to his inquiry.

Zane had extracted what he could from the damaged memory cores and now had the computer running several classified algorithms against the corrupted data bits to see what, if anything, could be reconstructed and salvaged. He was about to get a drink from the replicator when the computer indicated it had completed its assigned tasks.

Zane moved to his computer terminal and instructed the computer to output the repaired data.

[“Three data blocks recovered. Remaining data is degraded beyond repair.”]

“Display, data block one”, Zane instructed eagerly waiting to see the data.

Garbled video appeared on the screen. Filmed from a hidden camera it showed a dark room which had little to identify it. Static and artifacts littered the image making it difficult to make out any details. A man appeared wearing what looked like a Starfleet uniform. The image suddenly terminated.

“Display data block two.”

Zane watched as the computer indicated it was audio only.

“Yes I have it”, a man’s voice could be heard saying in the midst of heavy static. “Of course, it’s all here.”

“Not until next month…..I can’t…..too soon……..good enough for you now……take it or leave it……..fine!.......just make sure it’s there…on time for once!”

Zane listened intently as the audio terminated. “Play data block three.”

More video appeared. The Starfleet officer appeared again. His face was impossible to ID given the poor quality of the video. Someone else was there in the darkness beyond the camera’s view. They slowly moved forward, but stopped still hidden in the shadows. The officer and individual talked though the audio was missing. The officer held out something - a padd. The mystery person took it. The camera bounced a few times and the video ended.

[“End of recovered data”], the computer reported.

“Go back”, Zane instructed, “back to time index 116.2, play video.”

The video repeated from the requested spot and played. The padd was passed as the video began to bounce. “Freeze image”, Zane shouted as a blurred streak filled the camera a mere fraction of a second before the video terminated. “Computer, magnify and enhance upper right corner of image.”

The image was cropped on his screen, magnified, and the computer attempted to reconstruct and refine the image. Slowly, pixel by pixel, the image was enhanced. Zane sat in his chair glued to the screen as more and more of the image was brought into focus. A minute went by, then two, then five. Several blocks of the images suddenly snapped up in the screen as the computer finished its enhancements leaving Zane shocked. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Romulans”, he muttered as the image finally cleared showing the unmistakable image of a Romulan officer, possibly in intelligence, more likely in the Tal-Shiar.

The door chime suddenly rang startling Zane. Quickly he saved the data and deactivated his computer. He quickly pushed the remnants of the disassembled padd into a nearby drawer before standing and heading toward the door.

The chime rang again. He touched the controls to open the door where he was face to face with a Marine Colonel he had never seen before.

“Captain Zane Akina, correct?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Colonel Leon Ventris.”

“What can I do for you Colonel”, Zane asked.

“I understand you are from Starfleet Intelligence.”

Zane’s expression betrayed nothing. “I’m afraid you are mistaken Colonel, I’m a squadron commander, 214th fighter squadron. I was just transferred here to Astate.”

“I see”, the colonel replied. “My mistake captain. I understand you were in Tower One this morning which is restricted. What business does a fighter pilot have in restricted areas?”

“Oh that”, Zane answered. “As I explained to the officer earlier, I just wanted to view the academy grounds from a better vantage point, you know to see the damage. I ended up seeing my fair share of action and just wanted the bird’s eye view. That’s all. The grounds took quite the beating. It will probably take weeks to clean up and repair all the damages.”

The colonel didn’t immediately respond. “Did you see much fighting?”

“I saw enough”, Zane answered giving no further details.

“Well, I just wanted to stop by and check on you. Is there anything you need? You appear to require some additional medical attention.”

Zane smiled and touched the pink scar running across his forehead and cheek. He had yet to return to medical to have the doctors remove the blemish from his earlier wounds. “Oh this”, he replied his finger tracing the pink line on his face. “I’ll have it seen too eventually. Right now the docs have their hands full treating serious injuries. My battle damage can wait awhile longer.”

The colonel nodded. “Very well Captain. It was a pleasure meeting you. We will have to get together sometime for dinner, get to know one another. Your fighters will no doubt be responsible for providing cover and support for my infantry and front line units. Perhaps we can go over strategy and tactics later on? Recent events have given us both something new to consider, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes”, Zane responded. “Recent events have proved to be quite interesting, quite interesting indeed.”

The colonel nodded giving Zane a peculiar look. “A bit of advice captain. I’d watch your back around here if I were you. This latest incident is proof of how unpredictable and dangerous this colony can be. Especially for men like you and I. I would hate to see something happen to that lovely lady you have been looking after, the Lt. Commander, I believe?”

Zane’s posture stiffened. The conversation, already odd, just crossed the line into dangerous, if not murky waters, and both men realized the other knew it. This colonel was here to feel him out. Zane recognized the ploy. It was obvious the Colonel knew who he was, but perhaps wasn’t sure why he was here or what his motives were. What was painfully clear was that Zane had struck a nerve with someone, but to whom he couldn’t yet say.

“Is that a threat Colonel”, Zane asked with a hint of a smile in this escalating game of misdirection the two men were currently engaged in.

“Not at all, just some friendly advice from someone who had some experience here on Astate.”

“I see”, Zane answered. “Well, I’ll take your advice under advisement. I’ve always been pretty good at watching my own back. Besides, most targets which end up in my sights end up disappearing in a large ball of flame. I doubt I have too much to be concerned about.”

“You pilots”, the colonel laughed. “Arrogant and cocky to the last. Just keep your weapons locked on the enemy and you should do well here Captain. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Likewise”, Zane answered.

“Well I have other duties to attend to. Good evening Captain.”

“Good evening Colonel.”

Colonel Ventris nodded and moved off down the hall. Zane left the doorway as his doors hissed closed. He returned to his computer and reactivated the screen. The image of the unidentified Romulan lit the display. Zane glanced up at the closed doors.

He had just been put on notice. Someone knew who he was and had just delivered a message for Zane to essentially behave and follow orders. The notice, a veiled threat against him and Mirialia, were not enough to dissuade him to stop investigating what he had uncovered.

Zane wasn’t yet sure what he had. From the video and audio, it looked like a Starfleet informant paying off a Romulan with stolen information, classified data, or other secrets. Perhaps the officer was being blackmailed, or perhaps he was working willingly – in any event Zane had to determine who these people were and uncover their motives and actions. Perhaps his presence was enough to make someone nervous or perhaps he had come too close to something someone wanted to keep hidden.

Zane wasn’t sure the Colonel’s visit had anything to do with the data he had just recovered, but then again, perhaps it had. He couldn’t be sure yet. The one thing he did know was there was something wrong on Astate, something that lurked in the shadows. He had stumbled upon chance data out of his own curiosity which now seemed to infer a clandestine Starfleet-Romulan connection. His duty as an intelligence officer demanded he investigate this.

He deactivated his terminal and requested the computer lock all of his personal files with intelligence grade encryption. Leaning on the edge of his desk he pondered recent events as well as the data he had uncovered. He might be facing a mole, simple espionage, a spy, or perhaps deep penetration of Starfleet officers by Romulan operatives. The implications were high, yet despite the danger, Zane couldn’t inform the top brass, at least not yet. While the video and audio were damning, all they indicated were possible motives and transactions – as of yet he had no hard facts, names, or motives to explain the data. Explaining to an Admiral how he had even obtained the data in the first place would be nearly impossible without winding up in the brig or worse.

He would have to keep this information for a time and quietly conduct an investigation. Perhaps armed with a few more facts he could provide Astate’s brass with something more concrete, but until then he would have to play detective for a time. The best place to obtain information was the criminal underworld which he would have to locate, feel out, and contact. Informants were a rich source of valuable information. Petty thugs could provide a wealth of information if properly motivated.

Stepping to the wall near the door, Zane grabbed his shoulder holster and pulled his Romulan disruptor pistol ejecting its power cell. It currently read full power. Reholstering his weapon, Zane would have to be on guard. Astate wasn’t quite the paradise he had at first believed it to be. It appeared to harbor the same dangerous shadows as the Mars colonies with its own unique underworld characters.

Smiling, Zane grabbed his jacket and his weapon. He’d pay a visit to Mirialia, who was still recovering in the hospital. He was sure she would enjoy the company. Afterwards, some sleuthing about this colony was in order. Unlike typical private detectives, few of them were ranking intelligence officers. Zane could go nearly anywhere without too many questions and his clearance was the tool he would use first. A thorough check of Colonel Ventris’s records was in order. Zane was confident the Colonel’s file would prove to be interesting.

Affair on Astate: A Little Local Trouble - Part III

Akina smiled as his ran a hand through his hair standing before the mirror. Pulling on the edges of his uniform he admired his handiwork. A little makeup, a replicated uniform of a flag officer, some hair dye, a few medals, and easily forged credentials had transformed him from Captain Zane Akina to Commodore Theodore Reynolds. One of his many aliases, the fake persona came in handy when dealing with internal investigations. He had been granted use and creation of the fake, but seemingly legitimate credentials, as part of a past internal SFI investigation involving a suspected spy. Akina had ensured the credentials were not erased after the investigation had ended thus providing him a valuable tool in his intelligence toolbox for future use.

Unfortunately, he had to resort to a more hands on approach to get what he wanted. The computers on Astate were secured by a new security system which prevented easy access. With some time and patience he may have been able to bypass the security measures, but there was some risk of being detected and he couldn’t ensure his usual tricks would work. The in-person approach was his second option which would provide him with a direct method of bypassing security without raising suspicion. Few would question a fleet commodore with valid credentials. There was some risk that the high rank would draw attention to himself, but the risk was negligible especially with the recent Romulan incursions. Zane suspected there would be several high ranking officers about to survey damages, ascertain casualties and losses, gloss things over as a diplomatic incident, etc. What was one more flag officer asking questions and throwing his or her weight around?

Grinning at his especially keen touch of grey hair coloring, Zane turned and left his quarters headed for the one place he could get his hands on some information – Starfleet Security.

• • Security Offices, Astate**

The officer at the security desk looked pale as Akina stood impatiently his arms folded.

“I’m sorry Commodore, there doesn’t seem to be any record of your visit or arrival. When did you arrive?”

“Son, I’m not obliged to discuss my itinerary with you. With all the ruckus around here, I decided to show up and find out just what and the hell was happening on this rock. To blazes with schedules. There I was trying to figure out how to win a war and then suddenly I get a memo that our installation here on Astate was under assault by Romulan troops. Now I don’t know about you son, but the last thing we need is more enemies. I rustled up a transport and high tailed it here to ascertain what all the hootin’ and hollerin was about. When I got here, I find barracks on fire, casualties, disorganized chaos, and no one can give me a straight answer on anything.”

“Well, I see sir, but I can’t just let…”

“Son, did you not hear a word I just said? We’re in the middle of a crisis here. Now someone has got some explainin’ to do or else heads are going to start rollin’, do ya understand me? Starfleet Command wants to know what in tarnation happened out here! And so do I. Since I can’t get a straight answer and your Admiral Enor is up to his neck in horse s#!t and won’t make time to discuss the matter the only place left is your computer system and its video tapes, records, and intrusion systems. One of these systems had to have recorded something!”

“Sir, Commodore, this is an unusual request. I mean, no offense to your rank sir, but…” “What’s your name son?”

“Matthews sir. Robert Matthews.”

“Lieutenant Matthews. I’m sure we can come to an understanding here. I’m a busy man with top brass breathing down my trousers for answers. Someone let a weasel into the hen house and there’s a rope waitin for whomever left the gate open for the Romulans to waltz right on in. We may have an internal issue here. Hell there may even be spies that have penetrated local security, Romulan bastards, who have compromised internal safeguards which made this recent incident so damned easy to perpetrate. Ya got two choices here Lieutenant. You can either give me access to the rooms back yonder, or else I can have you sent home right now as a private. Now which sounds like a better deal?”

“Sir, there’s no need to be rash. Just, just a moment.” The nervous lieutenant made a brief call.

“Sir, the access terminals are down the hall, through the secured door, and on the left. The lieutenant will see you to a secured room. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

Zane smiled, but only for a moment. “Now that’s getting’ somewhere. I knew you and I could come to an understanding.”

“Commodore Reynolds”, a lieutenant commander said from down the hallway. “If you will follow me sir, I will show you to a secure room.”

Zane nodded and followed the commander down the hall and through several security checkpoints before being led into a small room with several computer stations.

“You guys really got the tar kicked out of ya”, the commodore commented.

“I prefer to say we were bruised sir. That’s far from being beaten.”

“I see. Well thank you commander. I think I have what I need for now. I’ll conduct my investigation from here.”

“Do you require anything else sir, perhaps some additional staff which may assist you in your investigations?”

“Negative commander. Right now, I have to independently research the situation. I’ll let you know if I need any additional assistance.”

“Very well sir. I will have Lieutenant Matthews on call if you require anything.”

Zane nodded as the Commander closed the doors leaving him alone with the computers he needed access to. Reaching into his jacket, Zane produced a small device which he quickly waved about the room. Electronic signatures were minimal. The room appeared to be clean from microphones, cameras, or surveillance equipment. Satisfied he could work alone, Zane quick took a seat at the large desk on which sat four computers. Each had a specific purpose and each tied directly into the colony’s main computer minus the annoying security safeguards.

“Computer, recognize Theodore Reynolds, Commodore, Starfleet Security.”

“Voiceprint verified”, the computer responded.

“Security clearance, Bravo, 211357 Alpha Tango Seven Five – Authenticate and confirm.”

“Code accepted. Access Granted. Good Morning Commodore.”

Zane allowed himself a slight grin. “Personnel records, display all information on Colonel Leon Ventris. Current assignment, Astate Colony.”

The record appeared which Zane carefully began reading.

• • One Hour Later **

“Computer, cross reference and tie into Starfleet databases on Earth, is this everything on the Colonel?”

“Affirmative. There are no additional records on file for the specified individual.”

Zane rubbed his forehead. He didn’t know what to make of this. The colonel had a distinguished record. He had a steady promotion record, a few commendations, a few medals – nothing extra ordinary and nothing that stood out. His record was decidedly average and clean – too clean. Everyone made mistakes, himself included. His own record was dotted with a few clashes with management that didn’t exactly make him a team player. Zane preferred it that way. He worked best solo playing by his own rules without anyone constantly looking over his shoulder. He delivered results much to the irritation of Starfleet brass over his methods. They seldom agreed with him, yet couldn’t deny the fact that Zane could deliver the bacon when it was needed most.

Zane produced a small device and set it next to the computer terminal. Within moments he had downloaded everything on Colonel Ventris for analysis later on. Zane was suspicious of the computer records. His instincts as an intelligence officer were sounding alarms and he usually trusted his instincts. There was an old saying, “when something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.” The colonel’s record was too perfect, too average, and too well rounded. The prettiest of diamonds had their flaws yet this man had none. This left Zane with two possibilities. Ventris was either an ass-kissing suckup, in which he did anything and everything for someone of position and power which is why his record remained so clean possibly as a means to obtain better and better promotions, or this Ventris was a fraud and his entire record was a carefully crafted forgery designed to fool the vast majority of Starfleet officers. Zane’s brief encounter eliminated Ventris as a suck up. His personality didn’t fit a boot licker. That left option two: a spy, informant, perhaps a Romulan operative masquerading as a Starfleet Marine Colonel.

Zane still lacked the hard proof he had been hoping to find. All he had now were more questions. There was still nothing substantial, nothing hard he could use to unlock the veil of mystery which surrounded the information he had uncovered. He still couldn’t take his theory to Admiral Enor or anyone else – not yet. All he had were hunches and years of intelligence experience which told him something was wrong, perhaps badly wrong.

Determined to utilize his computer access to the fullest, Zane pulled up everything he could find on the recent Romulan attacks, personnel files on Romulan officers and politicians on Astate, Admiral Enor’s records, everything he could get his hands on while in the intelligence candy store.

Two Hours Later

His portable storage unit almost at capacity, Zane scanned through pages of seemingly unimportant documents, reports, and accounts of the recent Romulan incident. Files were accumulating almost on a minute by minute basis as new information came in and was filed and submitted. Medical records, personnel lists – all of it seemed routine until something popped out from the search routine he was running against massive amounts of routine data.

Zane sat up from his chair his boredom and sleepiness slowly evaporating. “Hello”, he said reading over a communication thread that was classified and encrypted with high grade Starfleet codes. Over the past two hours he had gained insight into recent events, its characters and players, and the catalyst for the Romulan attack.

The communication intercept was interesting as it indicated that Starfleet had in its possession the body of the prime instigator of recent events and that this Romulan had been dead for sometime. More tantalizing still was the fact that Starfleet had handed over this individual to the Romulan government sometime ago denying him asylum. It had the hallmarks of a well crafted Romulan plot.

Zane copied the message and leaned back in his chair. Could this curious wrinkle be related to his Colonel Ventris? He wondered. It was possible. There wasn’t any data suggesting a link, but both loose ends had that fishy smell only a seasoned intelligence officer could appreciate. All was not as it seemed.

“Computer, access personal files, folder 1154, and execute program Vanish5.”

“Program execution complete. Computer history, searches, and inquiries made in the last five hours by Commodore Theodore Reynolds have been erased. All records of recent transactions have been purged from all internal systems.”

Zane nodded and deactivated the computer terminals. His housekeeping complete, he was confident that anyone curious as to his actions would be met by nothingness should they attempt in investigate. One of the advantages of being in Intelligence was the vast number of toys the department afforded to its elite few.

Armed with a wealth of fascinating information, Zane had no idea where any of it pointed. He had a Colonel which was more than he claimed, top brass had a Romulan officer that was in two places at once, and he had the data he had recovered from the damaged Padd which didn’t fit any of the puzzles before him. The one thing he was sure of was that Astate was far more interesting than he had ever imagined.

Standing, Zane took his various devices and tucked them away in his tunic. Tugging on his uniform, he headed toward the door and back through the checkpoints.

After a brief farewell chat with the lieutenant at the front desk, Zane left the security offices and headed out for some fresh air. He couldn’t go home just yet. He was a paranoid bastard which is what had kept him alive in this line of work. In the event someone had decided to follow him, Zane would play Commodore for a bit longer before heading home to eliminate the chance of a tail. The last thing he needed right now was to end up having to explain himself and his actions which were based on suspicious instead of hard facts. He had learned quickly that top officers hated to hear about conspiracies, espionage, and infiltrations pretending that such things never occurred. In fact such activities were common, though never publically disclosed, and it was up to SFI to uncover the truth and quietly hunt those seeking to do harm. That line was often grey crossing the line of legality, and in Zane’s case he crossed it frequently, however such steps were often necessary to root out those who secretly plotted against Starfleet and its interests.

Affair on Astate: Future's Past

Somewhere in the Alpha Quadrant…

Like an obsidian blade shooting upwards from the ground defying the gods, the massive headquarters of the NeoDyne Corporation stood dwarfing all other structures on the planet surface. The colossal skyscraper rose into the sky nearly two kilometers high, splitting the clouds asunder, its jet black exterior powerful, but foreboding. The structure was as much a product of engineering prowess and technological innovation as it was of arrogance, greed, and elitism that knew few boundaries.

Lightning flashed across the sky as a heavy rain poured down on the city below. The gentle thunder in the distance foretold the approach of the gathering storm whose ferocity had yet to peak. As the twilight hours ticked slowly forward one light at the top of the NeoDyne tower remained on as the city below slept peacefully despite the coming fury of storm outside.

A chime rang.

“Enter”, a calm voice answered.

Doors opened as a businessman appeared at the doorway of the NeoDyne Preisdent’s expansive office. The office, with its expensive furniture, black marble flooring, and an anachronistic wood burning fireplace was a testament to the leadership that had made NeoDyne wealthy, influential, and immensely powerful. With its various holdings in biomedical research, defense technology, and energy, NeoDyne had become a substantial player among the quadrant’s major powers.

His shoes echoing off the cold, dark tile, the businessman approached carrying with him several data pads. Stopping at the president’s desk, the businessman said nothing as the Chairman sat quietly his back to him gazing out the windows that surrounded the huge office space. The patter of rain beat against the glass as the wind invisibly wore at a structure it could not conquer. For a time the chairman said nothing, before slowly turning in his leather chair to face his subordinate.

Chairman Allister Marakai sat quietly his hands clasped together on the desk his intense light blue eyes missed nothing. His shoulder length silver hair reflected the intensity of the lightning outside. The result of a genetic birth defect, the chairman lacked normal hair color giving him an ethereal quality which was as intriguing as it was intimidating.

“Chairman, here are this week’s business reports”, the businessman said once gaining his superior’s attention.

“Proceed”, came the one word reply.

“Weapons section 5 has again failed to produce results. The recent test firing of the new “Excalibur” system failed again I am sorry to report.”

“Demote the lead scientist and fire the project manager. I want results. There is a war on. If NeoDyne cannot produce viable weapons – we cannot increase our profits. Do what it takes to get that project off the drawing board and into soldier’s hands Herrick.”

“Yes sir, I’ll see that changes are made at once. On the lighter side, our medical division has made good progress on a new substance it discovered on a planet near the galactic core. The indications are positive it can be refined for treating several types of disease.”

“See that they get increased funding. A new drug would generate profit inflows for years to come. Is there anything else Herrick? The hour is late and I find myself fatigued.”

“One more item of curiosity sir. I thought you might want to see this.”

Marakai took one of the padds from his assistant and carefully read its contents while Herrick continued.

“As you know the Astate colony on the Federation / Romulan border has little intrinsic strategic value to either the Federation or the Romulan Star Empire. Both maintain a presence there, but neither side has vast military installations or capabilities. The planet however, does afford for easy contact and communication between the powers given its unique situation which we use to our advantage as required.

“Get to the point Herrick, insignificant planets within the Neutral Zone do not concern me.”

“I believe this one will sir. We have a small presence there which gathers information and provides several small services to NeoDyne and its interests. Unfortunately, recent events may have compromised some of our activities due to the improper actions of a select few. I’m having those individuals dealt with, however there is a minor problem. One that shouldn’t cause us any trouble, but one I thought you would be interested in.”

“Go on”, Marakai stated.

“As you have read, Starfleet was attacked by the Romulans recently. While the event is being spun as the result of a rogue Romulan officer acting without orders, it has focused the attention of Starfleet Intelligence, in particular someone you are acquainted with. It appears he is currently acting alone and without orders, but I thought you should know that Zane Akina is researching the matter.

Marakai’s eyes widened for a split second as lighting cracked outside of his office window. When the light had subsided the Chairmain’s eyes had narrowed to thin slits his displeasure evident on his face.

“Akina....Zane Akina. He is there, there on Astate?”

“Affirmative. Our agents on Astate have confirmed his arrival and as usual he is sticking his nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

Marakai stood from his chair his blue eyes seemingly glowing in the relative darkness of the office. “Why didn’t you tell me this before Herrick! Zane Akina is no mere curiosity. Do you forget what happened ten years ago! He nearly ruined NeoDyne after uncovering evidence of our weapon sales to the Breen and nearly destroyed myself and my reputation in the process. I’ve spent the last decade repairing this company’s perceived image with the public and quadrant powers as well as my own and I’m not about to let him destroy either again!”

“But sir, he has nothing. How could he? Our agents were thorough despite the Romulan incident. It is true he was seen snooping around the intelligence office, but if he found anything it will be useless otherwise he would have reported it by now.”

“NO”, Marakai said firmly. “You don’t know him like I do. The man is calculating and borders on brilliance when it comes to unorthodox investigative work. He’s unpredictable, bold, rash, and unquestionably loyal to the Fleet and his own ideals of justice and honor. If he is there it means he has something. He’ll hold his cards to the last moment until it is too late. No, we have to find out what he knows now before he can report his findings. If he can link NeoDyne to anything he will do so, especially after our last encounter. I will not underestimate him again.”

“But sir, he is just one man…”

“He’s a man obsessively motivated to bring light to the darkness whatever the cost. After our last meeting he wouldn’t hesitate to drive a knife through the heart of NeoDyne or myself even if it cost him his career. Such men and such passions are more dangerous than an entire army of solders and weaponry. No, we must uncover what he has learned and stop him. I should have finished what I started ten years ago!”

“Of course. I’ll inform…”

“No Herrick. I’m taking charge of this situation. Bring me a list of all of our interests and personnel on or about Astate. I need to know what our exposure is there. I will personally end Zane Akina’s constant meddling – one way or another! However we must proceed with the utmost care and caution. SFI is not to be trifled with or taken lightly. This much I have learned.”

A flash of lightning and the powerful roar of thunder swept the office as the storm outside raged building in intensity and fury.

“As you wish sir”, Herrick said with practiced professionalism. He nodded and quietly left the office leaving Chairman Marakai to himself.

Marakai glared at the padd in his hand. The smiling face of that wretched intelligence officer was again staring back at him after more than a decade. The scowl on Marakai’s face deepened as he meticulously scanned the recent picture of his past nemesis. “And they made you a god damned captain for what you did to me and my company”, he shouted at the image which seemed to mock him even now.

“No, you won’t get a second chance Zane. It is high time you learned that being a Starfleet Intelligence operative is a hazardous line of work especially when you go looking for things you have no business searching FOR!”

Marakai turned and hurled the padd into his nearby fireplace. The image of Captain Akina sputtered on the screen as flames consumed the electronic device. The image finally went dark as the intense heat melted the padd which exploded with a small pop.

“I’ll destroy you Captain Zane Akina. Not all at once to be sure, but I will destroy you. I swear it.”

Chairman Alistair Merikai President, NeoDyne Defense Corporation

Affair on Astate: A Little Local Trouble - Part IV

Captain Zane Akina stepped through construction and repair teams entering the personnel offices for the colony. The large circular room surrounded by offices had at its center a circular desk and an attractive female officer. Zane approached and leaned against the desk seemingly drawing the ire of the female officer.

“May I help you, captain?”

“Yes, yes you can”, Zane responded. “I’m looking for Commander Griffen. I need to speak with him on a few matters.”

“I’m sorry Captain, Commander Griffen is extremely busy today. I can reschedule you for next Thursday at the earliest.”

Zane smiled. “Are you sure there isn’t room in that calendar for a few minutes. I’ll be brief.”

“Sorry Captain. He has a full schedule today.”

“Is that so? Would a few free drinks when you are off duty free up just a few minutes of his time?”

“Captain, unless you have some official business elsewhere in personnel, please leave, before I file a complaint.”

“Excuse me Lieutenant. No harm intended. It is quite urgent that I speak with the Commander. It’s official business.”

“As I stated Captain, he is unavailable.”

Zane was loosing his patience with the uncooperative lieutenant. He pulled out his badge and held it before her. “Captain Zane Akina, Starfleet Intelligence”, he said coldly before shoving his credentials back into his jacket pocket. “I’m conducting an official investigation and I must speak with the commander at once. I’m sure he can spare a few moments, that is unless you would like me to write you up for obstruction of an official SFI investigation.”

The lieutenant glared at the Captain. “Just wait here”, she snapped before standing and moving off to one of the rear offices.

Several moments passed. Zane noticed several men emerge from the back of the room. He met their cold stares as they passed him. Something was wrong with the way they looked at him. They seemed annoyed almost as if they had been interrupted. Their annoyance seemed to be directed at Zane.

He watched the men leave as the frosty secretary returned. “Alright Captain. He can see you for a few moments, however he doesn’t have all day to sit and chat.”

“Neither do I”, Zane answered curtly before heading toward the back of the circular room and the personnel officer’s office. Two glass doors parted as Zane entered a large, well furnished office, whose opulence surprised him for a mere commander. A large desk sat in front of several large windows that overlooked Astate. The walls were covered with highly polished wood panels which surprised Akina. Such decoration was something he would have expected to see in an Admiral’s or Ambassador’s office, not that of a mere commander’s.

“Ah, Captain Akina. This is an unexpected surprise. I’m Commander Felix Griffen. What can I do for Starfleet Intelligence?”

“Commander. I’m Captain Zane Akina. I passed several men in the lobby, they seemed troubled. Something wrong?”

“Some slight personnel issues Captain. A small dispute between civilian contractors assisting with repairs and Starfleet interests, but I’m sure you didn’t come here to inquire about such matters.”

“Correct. I need some personnel information.”

• Ten Minutes Later

“I’m sorry Captain, I can’t help you”, Commander Griffen stated from behind his desk.

“Commander, is there any chance I can speak with Admiral Enor? Perhaps he can clear this up?”

“I doubt it sir, at least not for sometime. The Admiral is a busy man cleaning up after recent events. Personnel matters aren’t on his short list of priorities even for Intelligence Captains.”

“Griffen, I’m not asking for any favors here. I need to know what happened to the two Starfleet intelligence officers that were stationed here on Astate. I can’t find them. Their quarters are deserted and I’ve done some checking around, no one has seen these men in days.”

“I’m not responsible for these men Captain. They could be anywhere. Intelligence isn’t the most forthcoming branch. How should I know where they are or what they are doing? I maintain files on who comes and who goes. If you’re concerned, I suggest you speak with security.”

“I’ve done that”, Zane answered. “They don’t know anything either.”

“Well, if security doesn’t know, I’m not sure how else I can help you.”

“What were these men’s assignments? How long have they been here? I would like to see their records.”

“I’m sorry captain, but our computers were damaged in the fighting with the Romulans. It will be a few days before I can retrieve any personnel records. You do understand?”

“Of course”, Zane replied not buying a single word the Commander was saying. Zane smelled it a mile away, the commander was being evasive and uncooperative for some unknown reason. What were his motives? Why was he being purposely deceptive?

“Is there anything you might be able to add? An investigation of the SFI offices indicated tampering and unauthorized access during the Romulan attack. Anything which might shed some light on matters would be most helpful.”

“Captain, I spent most of my time during the crisis below in this building’s emergency bunker. I have no knowledge of what may have transpired during that time. The Starfleet campus is a large facility. As for your officers, I’m sure they came in, were assigned to duty, and went about their jobs and lives. We get hundreds of transfer requests, new arrivals, and departures daily Captain. You can’t expect me to remember two men?”

“They were the only Intelligence officers on this rock. I would expect you to know something more about them?”

“Well I don’t. I’m sorry. Are we through here? I have a pressing schedule and I’ve told you everything I know on the subject.”

“When those computers come up – I want those files”, Zane stated coldly.

“I’ll see what I can do”, Griffen stiffly answered.

“Commander.”

“Captain.”

Zane left the office passing by the rude lieutenant. She gave him a disapproving look as he passed by. Leaving the personnel offices, Zane was sure that Griffen was lying. He hadn’t mentioned to Griffen that he already had the two missing SFI agent’s personnel files and that security had found the two officers dead under unusual circumstances. The preliminary report was that they were killed in fighting with the Romulans, but the staff doctor at the morgue wasn’t convinced their wounds were consistent with combat. Zane was also suspicious as it wasn’t like SFI personnel to expose themselves needlessly, risking capture with stupid heroics. Of course, he was usually the exception to that rule, but that was him, not other SFI officers.

Who was Griffen covering for? It was obvious he was stalling, but why?

More determined that ever to get to the bottom of the mounting mysteries, puzzles, and riddles that seemed to have infected Astate with the swiftness and voracity of a flu virus, Zane headed off for home to sift through more of the data he had collected from the central computer.

Affair on Astate: A Little Local Trouble - Part V

Returning to his quarters Zane wanted a shower and some food. He was anxious to review the recovered recordings he had extracted from the damaged padd again to see if he could glean any additional information in addition to reviewing more of the data he had taken from the central computer core. Right now his inquires were coming up dry and without a major break Zane worried the puzzles he was attempting to solve would go cold and remain unsolved curiosities that would be forgotten by the passage of time. Something strange was occurring on this planet and with no orders to occupy him, Zane intended to get to the bottom of the things which just seemed to get more mysterious and dangerous by the hour.

Reaching his quarters Zane stepped through the doors to a ransacked living space. Bookshelves had been overturned, furniture had been slashed, his table was shattered, and padds lie scattered everywhere. Zane quickly reached for his weapon in his jacket, but not before something struck him in the back of his head. His vision exploded into a million stars as he knees buckled beneath him. His stomach turned as the world faded into darkness.

Sometime Later

“Wake up”, a gruff voice said above him. “Come on, pretty boy, snap out of it.”

Zane felt the harsh slap of a hand against his cheek as his eyes slowly opened revealing an empty, dark room illuminated by a single bright light source somewhere above him. His head pounded and he moved to rub it only to realize his hands were bound behind him. He was seated in a lone chair which appeared to be the only piece of furniture in the room that he could see.

“So you’re finally awake”, a voice said from the shadows. Two men stepped into the light each wearing fake smiles.

“Who are you”, Zane asked. “What do you want?”

“We’ll be asking the questions Captain”, one of the men said as the two stepped around Akina. “Cooperate and this can be over quickly – resist and well, this could take some time.”

“Unless you’ve kidnapped me to ask me about the weather, you can forget about any cooperation. You won’t get a damned thing from me.”

“I told you he wouldn’t consciously divulge any information”, the second man said.

“Well, we’ll just have to convince him otherwise”, the first man answered delivering a harsh blow to the side of Zane’s face. “I want to know what you found in the Starfleet Intelligence office.”

“What intelligence office”, Zane responded.

Another powerful blow struck him in the face.

“Don’t play dumb with us. We know who you are Captain and who you work for. Now what were you doing there?”

“If you know who I am then you must also know I have no idea what you are talking about! I’m a wing commander of the 215th fighter squadron based on Astate. What the hell would I know about intelligence matters?”

A blow to the chest sucked the air from Zane’s lungs causing him to double forward.

“Save it Akina. You’re SFI. We know it, so cut the crap and tell us what we want to know. You were in the intelligence office looking for something. What was it and who sent you?”

“Who are you guys working for”, Zane said from behind clenched teeth. “Whatever they are paying you, I’ll double it.”

Another hit to his head split his lower lip. A thin ribbon of blood trickled down his chin and neck as his cheek began to turn a shade of blue and purple.

“You can’t buy us and besides you could never afford us. Now just tell us what you were doing there and this needless violence can end.”

Zane laughed despite his injuries. “I wouldn’t tell you bastards the time assuming I knew what it was. You can beat me into a pulp and I still won’t tell you a single word. So go on! Just get it over with already! I’m not talking so let’s skip the interrogation and get right to the torture. I’m an impatient bastard and I hate waiting.”

“He’s going to be a tough nut to crack as I indicated. Should I prepare the hypo?”

“No, no drugs just yet. I want to have a little fun with him first. He’ll tell us everything soon enough.”

Later

Zane leaned forward heaving as droplets of sweat mixed with his own blood dripped from his face. His entire upper body pulsed with pain as the two men took pleasure in delivering vicious punishment to his body. Zane remained silent throughout the ordeal betraying nothing. He always knew this day might come. SFI had trained him to resist physical torture, but he was disappointed to say the training was nothing compared with the genuine article.

Zane felt the crack of hard steel against his jaw as one of the men delivered another punishing blow to his face. He fell forward in the chair as the pain radiated throughout him each time becoming more and more difficult to dismiss. Coughing, Zane went limp his resolve slipping as the punishment continued.

“That’s enough. He isn’t talking. It’s time for the drugs. He will be much more cooperative then.”

“Fine. He wasn’t quite as much fun as I had hoped anyway.”

The first man moved to a nearby table and produced a hypo spray filled with an unknown compound. Zane could probably guess its contents, but preferred not to think about it. Right now he had to stay focused and calm.

“In a few minutes he’ll be singing like a bird. Once he tells us what the boss wants to know what do we do with him then?”

“We can’t kill him. Boss’s orders. We’re just supposed to break him. After that, the boss doesn’t care what we do so long as he doesn’t die. I’m up for breaking every bone in his body, slowly, one at a time. It’ll take those Starfleet doctors months to put him back together again.”

“You can have your fun, once our employer has what he has paid us to obtain”, the first man said to the second moving over to Zane with the hypo. “Now captain, this is probably going to sting.”

Zane leapt from the chair as the man moved to inject him. Throughout the torture, Zane had managed to loosen his bonds a little at a time until he felt confident he could slip his wrists from the binding ropes. Throwing a punch of his own, Zane landed one in the man’s abdomen struggling to keep the tip of the hypo away from his body. The two struggled as the second man rushed in to assist his comrade. Sensing the incoming attack, Zane twisted violently putting the first man in line of the second man’s rush. The second man collided with the first as they toppled over into a heap the hypo injecting the first man as he was pressed against the floor.

Zane didn’t wait to see the outcome. Racing toward the door to the dark room he touched its control surface to open the doors. Nothing. He pressed the buttons frantically trying to part the doors to make his escape. Locked from the inside it appeared he wasn’t leaving the room through the doors. He had to find another way out.

“Hold it”, an angry voice shouted. Zane turned to see the first man unconscious on the floor while the second man held him at gunpoint with a Klingon style disruptor. “You’re stronger than you look Starfleet. You had me fooled, but that isn’t going to save you.”

“Get down on your knees NOW!”

“You can’t kill me remember”, Zane replied his voice weak in his own ears. “Your employer won’t allow it.”

“Forget about the boss. I’m going to tear your apart until you beg me for mercy. Whatever is left of you will tell me what I want to know right before I crush your head into the ground under the sole of my boot. Now get on your knees! DO IT!”

A green beam leapt from the disruptor and exploded above Zane’s head showing him in sparks and debris.

“Forget it. Go on, shoot me and get it over with”, Zane mocked his attacker. “I’ll not bow to you or any other man. So kill me and end this or let me go. It’s up to you, but you’ll never break me. You’ve failed.”

“SILENCE”, the man screamed. He kicked over the hypo to Zane which slid across the floor. “Go on, take the drug and you might just survive this. TAKE IT!”

“Or what, you’ll shoot me? Are we back to that again? Just do it and get it over with!”

“PICK UP THAT HYPO NOW!” Several disruptor beams exploded around Zane as he calmly called the man’s bluff. The threat of death was his only card, but Zane refused to fold. Whoever had staged this kidnapping wanted Zane alive which meant that if this thug killed him, he too would probably end up in the hot seat. Calling the man's bluff was all he had - if he submitted to his demands, it was doubtful he would survive this encounter. As harsh as it sounded, Zane preferred the quickness of a disruptor beam over many more slow hours of torture which he might not be able to resist.

The first man sat up from the floor obviously having difficulty shaking off the effects of the drug. He seemed to be the leader of the two man team. He muttered something to the other man which Zane was just barely able to make out, “Kill…him..”

Shocked, Zane braced for the inevitable. Suddenly the doors behind him slid open. Several green beams cut through the air from over his shoulder. Seconds later his torturer holding him at gun point doubled over in a blood chilling scream as his atoms were savagely ripped apart in a swirl of green particles. His disruptor clattered to the floor as the man disappeared into nothingness.

Zane felt a strong hand grab his shirt and drag him backwards. “Come with me now”, a voice said in his ear as more disruptor fire covered their escape. Zane was pulled through the darkness until he felt the cold tingle of a transporter beam grip his body. Moments later his eyes were assaulted by the bright lights of another building. He could see dark shapes of several bodies nearby as his eyes struggled to adjust to the light. As the transporter released him his legs failed him as he fell to his knees. He could hear several voices, but they were distant and unrecognizable. He couldn’t make out what they were saying. His head spun as pain, mixed with dizziness, overcame his senses. Unable to cope with his injuries and the adrenaline running through him, Zane fell forward to the floor unconscious as the bodies approached their intentions and motives unknown.

Affair on Astate: A Lotta Local Trouble - Part VI

Zane’s eyes slowly opened. His vision was blurred as he tried to focus on his surroundings. Like a bad dream, reality seemed to be a mix of colors and shapes he couldn’t identify. Several fuzzy memories danced in his head which he couldn’t make sense of. As the cobwebs cleared, a few more scattered memories fell into place. He tried to move, but felt someone push him back. He looked upwards his vision finally focusing on the body which hovered above him. The body retreated and took a seat at his bedside.

“You’ve have interesting friends Mr. Akina”, a male voice stated.. Zane's vision cleared and he could see a single well dressed businessman sitting comfortably nearby. Zane wasn’t sure where he was or how he had gotten here, but from the soreness and pain he was in no position to put up any resistance.

“Where am I”, Zane managed to whisper with a hoarse voice.

“Safe”, the man answered with a cool voice his answer intentionally evasive.

Zane struggled to speak, but was interrupted by the unidentified man.

“Allow me to anticipate your next question Captain. My name is Ailec Reltah. And you would be correct to assume it was my men and I who rescued you from that terrible place we found you in.”

“Why”, Zane whispered his voice unsteady and weak.

“Hmm, that is a question which I can only partially answer. I am by trade a mercenary for hire. My organization performs odd jobs for those willing to pay for certain services. I have been hired to rescue you in addition to keeping an eye on you from now on. It appears you have a great many enemies here on Astate, Captain Akina. My employer has enlisted our assistance to help you deal with your problem.”

Zane’s head throbbed. He attempted to sit up, but was quickly pushed backwards by Reltah.

“Captain, you’ve had a busy day. I realize that in your position trust is not something that is generally forthcoming, however I assure you there is nothing to fear. You have received medical attention and you are my guest until you have had a chance to rest and recuperate. Anything you need or desire shall be seen to.”

“Who paid you”, Zane asked managing to summon some additional strength to continue the conversation.

“I’m not at liberty to say. He didn’t leave a name and I did not inquire per our arrangement.”

“I’ve heard about you”, Zane mumbled as he flexed his muscles which responded in painful protest.

“Well known merc outfit in this area who tends to play all sides, Romulan, Klingon, Federation.”

“You wound me Captain.”

“I’m just stating fact”, Zane answered. “You and those like you serve a function in this universe. It isn’t my cup of tea and I’d be lying if I said I approve of your business, however It isn’t my place to pass judgment and right now I’m in no position to complain. And besides, I wouldn’t be a very good guest if I insulted my host, would I?”

“You have wit Captain. I like that. Most Intelligence officers lack personality, a flaw I find quite irritating. You however appear to be different. I must say I’m surprised.”

“I assume you deal in information?”

“One of many business ventures.”

“What do you know about the dead SFI officers here on Astate? I’m going to assume they had some informal contact with your organization or at least should have.”

“Indeed we have had some minor dealings with SFI here on Astate, but I have no information to give you. This business with the Romulans has been difficult on many levels.”

“Tell me Reltah, your name, Romulan?”

“Witty and astute. I salute you again sir. To answer your question, partially, my father was Romulan, my mother was human.”

“I see. May I ask one additional question before you start charging me or my mysterious benefactor?”

“Of course.”

“What do you know about SFI operations here on Astate and have you had any dealings or know of any information on a Starfleet Colonel named Ventris?”

“Well Captain, that’s actually two questions, but I will indulge you as you’ve been interesting company. SFI maintains a small listening post on the planet. The location is well known by most interested parties. Its function is to intercept and record Romulan transmissions for analysis. Your counterparts on the other side of the pond have similar posts. With that exception, the SFI presence here is quite small. As for your Colonel, his name has come up once or twice in other dealings, but I have had no direct dealings with him. From what little I do know, I can tell you he appears to keep interesting company for a Starfleet Colonel. Not at all what you would expect from someone of his stature. That is all I know of him.”

"Commander Felix Griffen, do you deal with him?"

"No, but there are rumors about him. I am not privy to all of them, but I may be able to put you in contact with someone who is. I know a man, a Starfleet insider, which might better answer your questions for a price. Your Commander Griffen is a powerful man on Astate. It is he who controlls personnel assignments - who comes and who goes from this planet. Such a man might be how to say - influenced if properly motivated to make certain staff assignments or changes."

"What kind of changes", Zane asked.

"I am just speculating Captain. I cannot say. I've found there are limits to the depth of which one can successfully probe without bringing undue danger, risk, or harm to himself or others. I deal mainly in passive information, I don't aggressivly seek it which attracts unwanted attention. I can say this, you sidestepped the system. Your arrival on Astate was unexpected. Since you have no formal orders or assignment - Commander Griffen never received your paperwork in advance. I can say with some reliability that your arrival yesterday morning at his office came as quite a shock to him."

Reltah stood from his chair.

“Well, the hour grows late Captain. You require rest and I must see to other matters. We will have to chat again soon, you are most stimulating company.”

“Reltah, tell me, how extensive are my injuries?”

“Do not worry yourself. Your medical needs will be seen to by qualified personnel. As an SFI agent I assumed you would want to keep this matter out of the official spotlight. Starfleet doctors ask so many questions. Was I mistaken?”

Zane shook his head. “No. Thank you for your discretion and assistance. You saved my life for which I am grateful. “

Reltah nodded out of respect. Both men were wary of the other, but each respected the other on a professional level. It was possible, given time, the two could benefit from the other on certain matters of mutual interest. Only time would tell. Captain Akina seemed to be the type of officer who would use whatever resources at his disposal to accomplish a goal even non-sanctioned resources and methods. Their relationship could bear fruit given time.

“Your injuries were substantial, but not life threatening. My physicians ensure me that you will make a full recovery. Right now you need rest. Since you have no standing orders I doubt you will be missed.”

“How do you know that”, Zane asked.

“It’s my business to know such things”, Reltah replied. “I keep a close eye on variables that could impact business operations. Intelligence officers are fascinating to watch no matter what interests they are pursuing.”

"So you do have contact with personnel at some level?"

Reltah shook his finger. “Sorry Captain, I’m not at liberty to reveal all my secrets. Let's just leave it at that for now.”

Zane chuckled which he regretted his ribs painfully protesting. Reltah was obviously well connected with lines of information from both Starfleet and Romulan personnel. It was possible this mercenary could be useful to him in the future. For some low grade intelligence files of little intrinsic value or non classified information it was possible he could swap them for counter-information on certain subjects or perhaps for Reltah’s specific brand of services.

“Get some rest Captain. You look terrible.”

“Thanks”, Zane said dryly. “One more thing – my attackers, who were they?”

Reltah stopped at the doorway to Akina’s room. “Hired help. I’ve run across those two before. It’s just as well that they’re both dead. Despicable beings, even among my standards. They were without honor – money was all that they loved and they did anything to increase their holdings.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Please, I must know.”

Reltah paused for a moment, but his back continued to face Akina in the doorway. “Specialists in extracting information. The pair were experts at obtaining information by any means be it torture in your case, drugs, mind probes and the like. If you are asking who hired them, I cannot say. What I can tell you is that those men were expensive. Whoever hired them is wealthy with considerable influence and connections. Someone wants something that you know or perhaps something they believe you know. Of one thing you can be sure Captain, someone out there with vast resources and wealth has you in their sights.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, probably won’t be the last”, Zane replied.

“And interesting response. We will have to talk again soon. Good Evening Captain”, Reltah said quietly before taking his leave.

Zane let out a sigh as he digested the information Reltah had been so gracious to provide. Such information usually carried a substantial price tag from someone like Reltah. The man had been quite forthcoming and Zane had no reason to believe the man would mislead him – he had nothing to gain by doing so.

More questions than ever filled his mind. Who had sent those men after him? What did they want? What had happened to the dead SFI officers? How did the mysterious Colonel Ventris fit into the puzzle and was he even connected? Who were the players in the audio and video fragments he had recovered from the damaged padd and what was their role? Was Commander Griffen accepting bribes? If he was, who was paying him and for what purpose? What possible value would the knowledge of personnel on Astate be to anyone? Astate was not a strategic port or military installation. Why would anyone want to know who came and went - unless...unless Griffen was being paid to accept or deny everyone who arrived or left thus making him perfect for bringing in and retaining specific personnel - but for what?

Zane's head ached. Conspiracies seemed to be multiplying like rabbits. Everywhere he turned more more questions emerged. This game had now turned dangerous which was usually just when things began to get interesting. Despite his close shave with death, he wasn't about to stop investigating. He was more convinced than ever something sinister was occuring Astate. It was subtle, carefully controlled, and well managed to avoid detection. It was doubtful any top brass was aware of any anomalies and Zane suspected even if alerted they might not believe they existed.

Exhausted, Zane closed his eyes his entire body numb from painkillers combined with the fading after effects of shock from his injuries. He had little choice but to accept the mercenary’s hospitality for now. He had to rest and recover - there was far more to learn on Astate and as recent events had proved, he would need to be in perfect form to venture deeper into Astate's underworld to find the answers he was seeking.

Captain Zane Akina Starfleet Intelligence

Ailec Reltah Mercenary-for-Hire

Affair on Astate: A Lotta Local Trouble Part VII

Zane touched his toes and stretched exhaling as he tested his muscles. Today marked the third week of his stay enjoying the hospitality of his mercenary benefactor, Ailec Reltah. With the mercenary’s assistance, Zane had made a full recovery from his previous injuries. The long days of rest, diet, and exercise had prepared him for continuing his investigation into the strange happenings on Astate.

Inhaling and exhaling, Zane took one last look at his small, but well furnished room which had been his home for many days. Today, he would thank Reltah for his gracious hospitality and return to Starfleet to continue his work. Turning off the lights, Zane made his way out into the hallway and through the maze of corridors toward a lift he had seen Reltah enter on several occasions. Today, it seemed unguarded. Entering the lift, Reltah pressed the top most button and seconds later was whisked upwards.

The lift stopped as the doors opened. Zane stepped into a lavish lobby decorated with imported woods, fine light fixtures, and impressive statues. Marble tile polished to a mirror finish covered the floor as he quietly moved about the large room.

“May I help you”, a cheerful voice said behind him causing Zane to flinch at the unexpected voice.

Zane turned to see a petite, well dressed woman smiling back at him. “I was looking for Mr. Reltah. Is he free?”

“Right through those doors Captain. He is expecting you.”

Zane was a little confused by her statement, but nodded thanking the woman and proceeded through the doors into what he guessed was Reltah’s office. It too was impressive as black marble covered the floors. A row of large windows lined the back of the large room in which a single desk sat centered and at it, Reltah himself.

“Come in Captain. I’ve been expecting you.”

“You have”, Zane asked approaching Reltah’s desk.

“Of course, why else would you have boarded my personal lift if not to have another one of our stimulating conversations?”

Zane nodded.

“Have a seat Captain? What do you think of the view? It’s one of the best on Astate in my opinion.”

Zane looked through the glass windows. In the distance he could see the colony and beyond the twin Starfleet towers and distant mountain range. “Impressive. One could probably charge for such a vantage point.”

“I do. Two floors below. The colony tour is quite popular with visiting tourists, but enough about the view, I believe you are here to inform me of your intentions to depart?”

“Well informed as always. Your hospitality and generosity have been unmatched. I owe you my thanks for all of your assistance.”

Reltah nodded at the human’s gestures.

“I must now continue my work. Something dark lurks in the shadows of this colony. I must learn more about recent events. Call it a gut feeling, but there's something out there that is dangerous, but quiet. Leaving it unchecked would be foolish.”

“You may be more right than you know. I too have sensed the tiny tremors of something foul, but from what or where I cannot say. Will you return to the Starfleet facilities?”

“Yes. I must start from there to build my case. The answers I need lie there for now.”

“While I would not presume to doubt your instincts or training Captain, might I offer you a proposal instead? Call it a business opportunity.”

Zane raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Consider this Captain, you’ve been out of sight for three weeks time. The authorities have searched that wretched hole we found and rescued you from and discovered the disintegrated remains of three bodies or rather two bodies and a carefully altered sequence of your DNA. You’ve been officially listed as MIA while the investigation continues. For all intents and purposes, you don’t exist captain.”

“What? What did you do Reltah? You planted DNA at the scene to fool the authorities into thinking I was dead? What for”, Zane asked not bothering to hide his emotion.

“Your benefactor suggested that such an arrangement would benefit you and your ongoing investigation. I merely did what I was paid to do.”

“How? If I’m listed as MIA, that means I’m off the radar, no clearance codes, no access permissions, nothing. I might as well be an average citizen.”

“Come now Captain. An intelligence officer of your background and intelligence won’t be hampered by such an inconvenience. When one persona is no longer useful just create another – as an intelligence officer I’m sure you have several aliases. From your record you appear to work best off the radar as you put it.”

Zane said nothing for several moments unhappy about the situation. “You said you had a business proposition?”

“I do. Returning to Starfleet would only tip your hand Captain. Right now you are perfectly positioned to carry out investigations outside of official constraints and rules. You no longer exist which makes you a ghost – a ghost that can go anywhere and do anything – unseen and unheard. I am willing to provide you with living quarters, supplies, weapons, and other equipment to aid you.”

Zane smiled. “And the catch?”

“No catch, just an exchange. I want whatever information you uncover. Names, places, data files, records, etc.”

“So you can sell them to the highest bidder?”

“Captain, consider this. You have more enemies at the moment than friends. You need my help. My organization can get you the supplies and equipment you will need without any red tape – no questions asked. All I ask in return is a fair trade to help me offset the costs of assisting you. Unlike the planets you are used to, Astate’s underworld is complex and dangerous. You need me and my local knowledge. Starfleet’s influence here is limited. No cavalry will rush to your rescue if you find yourself in trouble. You will have no backup, no agents waiting in the wind to move in when needed. You are alone Captain and Astate is a dangerous place in the darkness of its shadows.”

“Why do this? What’s your angle Reltah?”

“Angle? Captain, I’m a simple businessman. You will no doubt produce results that my clients and I may find useful to promote and protect our business interests among other things. It’s just that simple.”

“Simple or not I won’t sell out Starfleet or my own convictions. I'm sorry Reltah, that's too high a price.”

“I’m not asking you to sell anything Captain. I’ll leave what information you wish to share at your discretion so long as I am content the information you are passing along is relevant, timely, and useful. If you uncover something you feel could compromise your obligations to king and country you may withhold that information. I have no desire to see you jailed or court-martialed. Betraying your loyalties or convictions under duress does not benefit either of us. I’ll end up with useless information since you won’t be forthcoming and you would be forced to choose between loyalty and the mission. Neither of those outcomes are beneficial to either of us. Do those terms satisfy you?”

Zane, already wary of Reltah, was suspicious of his motives and true intentions. The man knew more than he was saying, Zane could see it in his eyes. The whole thing felt orchestrated like a well thought out setup. However, Zane had little choice. Reltah’s words did resonate with some truth. With Starfleet believing he was dead and possibly his enemies as well, he now had additional latitude to investigate without having to follow normal protocol and regulations. Such ability to move freely and quietly was invaluable. Being MIA might be advantageous to acheiving his goals.

“I will require an extensive array of equipment, computers, and supplies”, Zane answered. “Since I won’t have my usual Starfleet access, most of that equipment will be difficult to obtain and expensive to purchase or acquire. Are you sure you’re prepared for such contingencies? I don’t want to be hampered by refusals, rejections, and lack of funding – I can get that and more at the fleet home office.”

“Captain, profitable or not, your wit and tenacity are worth the price alone. Do you accept my offer stipulations included of course?”

Zane nodded. “I don’t seem to have much choice in the matter, but yes, with some additional conditions. I get to choose when and where I submit information. I don’t want to worry about having to report in every 48 hours. Second, no threats. Bring in any muscle and this deal is off.”

“I wouldn’t think of ruining our relationship Captain. You are far too interesting as company to chase away by such brutish methods.”

Reltah stood leaning over his desk. “Then we have a deal sir?”

Zane stood grasping the mercenary’s hand accepting and committing to the mutual agreement. The pact was one made out of convenience as well as necessity. Zane didn’t like it, but he had made such deals with underworld figures before. It was the best method for obtaining results even if the risks ran high. As in casinos, one had to bet big to win big – the trouble was determining who was playing who and in stakes like these, betting the wrong way could cost more than money – it could be fatal.

Reltah smiled returning to his seat. “I look forward to our partnership Captain. My men outside will see that you are transported to a suitable facility and will provide you with the means to contact me. Any supplies or equipment you require upon arrival will be seen to as quickly as possible. No doubt some items of your curious profession may take longer to acquire than others, but I have many resources.”

“Indeed, as I am aware of firsthand.”

“Good luck Captain.”

Zane nodded and turned to leave. He had some misgivings about their arrangement, but he needed answers and Reltah was willing to help him find them. Part angel, part devil – Zane didn’t trust Reltah, and was still unsure where he stood, but for now the relationship worked – how long that would last remained to be seen.

Affair on Astate: A Lotta Local Trouble Part VIII

Colony Outskirts, Astate

A gentle electric hum pulsed through tiny, dilapidated shack on the outskirts of Caenis. Shadows danced across the walls in the dim light as a single electric lantern buzzed quietly in a dusty corner. Pushing a fresh power cell into his Romulan disruptor pistol, Zane checked its charge before sliding the weapon into his shoulder holster. Taking a seat on a squeaky bed, Zane closed a case of supplies and pushed the large metal storage box under the bed frame.

True to his word, Ailec Reltah had delivered putting Zane up in a small, poorly furnished, three room shack on the edge of the colony. The place was quiet, isolated, and out of the way; perfect for someone who needed anonymity. With few colonists on the outskirts, Zane could operate without raising suspicion.

The small cabin had a tiny bedroom, a dining and kitchen area, and a larger living area with a large table, a few rusty chairs, and a small sofa. The structure was poorly maintained as he could hear the wind whistling through several cracks. With only one window at the front door, the cabin provided moderate security and privacy.

Grabbing a padd, Zane activated its screen and made a final inspection of his recent handiwork. A small 2D wireframe map appeared on the padd’s screen showing the cabin and the surrounding area. A red line, roughly square, surrounded the cabin on all sides indicating the invisible security fence he had installed earlier in the day to warn of any possible intruders. He wasn’t taking chances after recent events. Someone out there with vast wealth and resources was trying to capture him or perhaps kill him. They had failed once, but given time, they would no doubt try again.

Tweaking a few minor settings to the security fence, Zane activated its alarm system and set the padd down on a nearby table. He was impressed with how quickly Reltah had been able to deliver the supplies he had requested. Weapons, security and detection gear, food, a generator, a personal replicator, and clothing had all arrived within 48 hours. There were a few intelligence issue supplies he was still waiting on, but such instruments would take Reltah time to acquire.

Yawning, Zane pulled off his boots. It had taken him almost two days to settle into the small cabin, secure it, and create a plan for going after and uncovering the truth. With Starfleet believing he was missing or dead, Zane could be more aggressive in his search to learn the truth. He had spent the better part of a day reviewing what had happened trying to determine the best point from which to begin what had become a personal mission.

Commander Felix Griffen, Personnel Director

Zane’s initial encounter with the commander had been unusual. The commander’s secretary had been overly evasive to a superior officer. In addition, Zane had noticed several men who seemed out of place after he had twisted the secretary’s arm to get a meeting with Commander Griffen. Then there was the commander himself. The man’s office rivaled a fleet admiral’s in opulence and décor. Griffen had been blunt, evasive, and non-cooperative. Reltah had hinted that Griffen was being bribed or perhaps paid-off, but from who or why he did not know. It was possible someone was using Griffen to funnel personnel to or from Astate via the personnel office, but for what purpose still remained a mystery.

Colonel Leon Ventris, Commander 145th Marine Battalion

Another odd character. Zane’s meeting with the Colonel was unplanned with the Colonel visiting him at his personal quarters. The Colonel appeared overly concerned with Zane’s unscheduled, and unannounced visit to the SFI offices. Zane was equally curious as to why a Marine Colonel would have such an interest and would personally investigate what was a security matter. Their conversation though brief had unsettled Zane. The Colonel appeared to be involved in something, but where he fit into the overall puzzle was unclear. Zane had no proof the Colonel was involved in anything illicit, but years of experience and his gut instincts told him there was more to the Colonel than met the eye.

Then there were the two dead SFI officers. Both had died in the fighting with the Romulans. Zane suspected a cover up. What bothered him was lack of interest by SFI. There were several possibilities. Zane suspected Griffen was somehow involved and had manipulated records and assignments to prevent fleet command from learning of the officer’s deaths. Still, he wondered if the two men had stumbled into something and if they had been killed for what they knew. The other possibility was that they were dirty themselves, aiding whatever scheme was being perpetrated on Astate, and they had been killed to erase a connection to someone or something.

Finally, there were the two hired operatives that had kidnapped Zane and attempted to learn what he knew. Both had met untimely fates, however Zane had to determine who had hired them and why. It was unusual for anyone except for the major powers, the Klingons, Romulans, an occasional Cardassian to go after a Starfleet Intelligence Officer. The risks of creating a diplomatic incident were too high. Dirty tricks, traps, bribes, and other nefarious methods were typically used to learn, extract, or obtain information. Violence was not unheard of, but it was used sparingly in all of the intelligence branches of the major powers. Intelligence operatives and agents were unseen and unheard in a silent game few people knew existed. Information was traded for favors, sex, money, influence, and power. Information was power, but there were rules of engagement and defined lines.

Someone out there had crossed the line violating the roughly accepted tenants of interstellar espionage. Zane had dismissed all of the quadrant's main power players. That left old rivals, enemies, small time criminals whom SFI had crossed, busted, or betrayed, or powerful non-governmental entities such as the Orion Syndicate or corporations. Such entities might cross the line to settle a score or vendetta.

Zane sighed with little to go on and more questions that hard facts. Tomorrow he would start searching for answers. Perhaps with a little luck he would lift the veil of mystery that surrounded recent events and shed some light on Astate's criminal darkside.

Affair on Astate: A Lotta Local Trouble Part IX

Captain Zane Akina sat quietly in a rundown bar in Caenis’s industrial district. The bar was frequented by locals, workers from local industry, freighter captains and crews, and other less savory types. The air in the local dive was heavy with faint traces of tobacco smoke, oil, sweat, and grime. While not overtly busy, the badly maintained bar was filled with several patrons drinking the poison of their choosing while talking with others or watching one of the overhead displays showing various sporting events.

Akina sipped on a disappointing local beer while running over the last few days. His search for answers had come up dry. Days of work had yielded nothing. Chatting up locals, pumping several informants for information, and making general inquiries with local law enforcement had yielded nothing. Even Ailec Reltah’s network of people had been unable to provide any additional leads. The loose ends of the possible conspiracy he was chasing appeared to be beyond his grasp. He wasn’t sure there was enough information on Astate to follow anywhere meaningful. Even with a crack team of Intelligence agents specializing in undercover ops and intel gathering, Zane was becoming pessimistic about his chances of cracking the mysteries surrounding him.

Guzzling the rest of his beer, Zane had come to the harsh realization that despite a full hand of peculiar events, an attempt on his life, and some shady characters back at the Starfleet facilities, he was no closer to the truth now than he was several days ago. Reltah had remained quiet thus far, but Zane knew it was only a matter of time before the mercenary began demanding some progress and information in exchange for the price of outfitting him with lodging, supplies, and equipment.

Sullen, Zane had arranged a discrete meeting with a local construction and shipping merchant after receiving a tip that the man may have some information. Not optimistic about the encounter, Zane wondered what his next move should be with all avenues of information quickly fading like a light morning fog.

“You Flannigan”, a gravely voice suddenly asked from behind.

Zane turned toward the person behind him. “Aye, who’s asking”?

“Name’s Vernon, Vernon Brecht. Got a message you were looking fer me.”

“Roy Flannigan”, Zane said with a firm handshake. “Have a seat Vernon, let me buy you a drink.”

The man took a seat on the barstool next to Zane and ordered an expensive alcoholic beverage taking advantage of Zane’s offer.

“So what is it you be wanting Flannigan? Is this business?”

“In a way”, Zane replied. “I represent the Anasovan Mineral and Mining Group, perhaps you have heard of us?”

“No”, came the sharp reply.

“We’re currently conducting a survey of Astate for any possible mining and mineralogical deposits which might prove to be commercially viable. Astate has quite a bit of rugged, uncharted land mass which could contain deposits of precious metals, dilithium, petroleum, and other valuable natural resources. I’m here performing advanced research for my company however I’ve heard that there has been some trouble here on Astate. I was told you might have some information on such subjects being that you transport heavy equipment here on Astate and are responsible for several construction projects.”

“I don’t think I can help you Flannigan”, Brecht answered. “Bad for business.”

Zane smiled and produced several large bars of gold pressed latinum from his jacket. “Mr. Brecht, we’re both businessmen. I have to ascertain any risks to future operations here on the colony. It would be most helpful to learn of any risks that might exist which might hamper business operations. I’m sure you can understand as an astute businessman yourself?”

Brecht looked at the latinum for a time before slowly accepting the bribe. “Ok, Flannigan. This stays between the two of us.” Brecht looked about the bar nervously which caught Zane’s attention. Being a student of human behavior, Zane sensed the uneasiness in Brecht’s mannerisms, speech, and actions. There was something the man feared and was hesitant to discuss.

“It’s the Graithong area and the southern ice shelf that you should be wary of if yer intending on starting operations there.”

“How so?”

“Well, several of my competitors have run into some trouble in those parts recently. It’s just best to steer clear. That’s about all there is to it.”

“Mr. Brecht, excuse me for insisting, but if I am to report back to our board of trustees I’m going to need a little more than that.”

Zane could see Brecht fidgeting. The man was clearly uncomfortable.

“Ok, ok. It’s like this Flannigan.” Brecht lowered his voice. “There’s been some odd things occurring in those parts lately. I don’t ask too many questions ya see, but there’s stories and rumors.”

“Go on.”

“Well, there was some construction out that way. Some on one of the Graithong islands, some more on the ice shelf to the south. I don’t know what was being built, but it was secretive, you know all quiet. No invoices, no paperwork – it was almost like a government operation but not even the Romulans or Starfleet acts in such odd ways. I know, I helped construct some of the more secure buildings at the Starfleet complex here in Caenis.”

“What was odd about the construction?”

“The lack of paperwork was one, but just the way the entire thing was handled. No names, no permits – it was all under the table. I doubt Starfleet even knows of what was going on. I had no part in any of it, but some of my competitors took the contracts. Things have been a little lean and they needed the work and business. I never thought anything of it until people and equipment started disappearing.”

Zane’s eyebrow raised slightly as he ordered another beer. “Disappearing?” “Keep yer voice down. Yes. Men, materials, heavy equipment – poof, gone. No trace, no questions, no investigations. They flat disappeared and anyone who they knew disappeared with them.”

“Were the local authorities contacted? Were there any investigations?”

“Hell no. No one around here wants anything to do with the law. Bad for business – too many questions, inspections, people poking their noses into your business. Not all of us do work exclusively for Starfleet if you get my meaning. We take business where we can get it. But beyond that, anyone talking about this usually ends up missing too. Look, I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“Mr. Brecht, please”, Zane said producing more latinum. “This is important information I need to obtain for my company. If there’s anything else you can tell me, I’d be most appreciative.”

Brecht seemed to vacillate on accepting more of Zane’s money, but eventually gave in and accepted the additional compensation. Zane figured the man needed the money and for now that fact was working to his advantage.

“Look Flannigan, I don’t have any specifics. I’ve seen friends and rivals alike been burned by whatever or whoever is down there in the ice or on one of those jungle islands. All I know is that people and equipment vanish. Now the Klingons have some hunting lodges in those parts and I haven’t heard them complaining, but us businessmen steer clear. There’s a rumor there’s some sort of creature down on the islands. Eats anything, man or beast. Heard a few Klingons were searching for it – you know how they are, man vs beast, the thrill of the hunt, that sort of thing. Whatever or whoever is down there – it’s not safe. People disappear on those islands Flannigan. Anyone shootin their mouth off about it ends up the same so nobody talks about it. It’s a subject everyone knows about, but isn’t discussed.

“Which islands, can you give me any additional specifics?”

“Are you crazy man? Have you not heard a word I’ve been saying?”

Zane nodded. “Mr. Brecht, my corporation has formidable security and takes careful steps to ensure the safety of our workforce as well as the security and safety of our operations and equipment. As such, it is imperative that I learn the location of any ‘hot spots’ so we can avoid those areas should we find suitable locations to begin operations in the Graithong area.”

Brecht, produced a small padd in which he pulled up a map of the planet. Zooming in on the Graithong area, he pointed out several of the areas where people and machinery had gone missing.

“That’s all I know Flannigan. We’re done here, I’ve said all I’m going to say.”

“Very well Mr. Brecht. You’ve been quite helpful. Perhaps our two companies can do business with one another in the future if your services are required.”

“Ok, whatever”, Brecht answered. “You just keep what you heard to yourself. As far as I’m concerned we never talked and I’ll deny we ever met.”

“You have my word as a gentleman and a businessman”, Zane replied.

“Fine. Just keep quiet. If I were you I’d take your business interests elsewhere on this rock. The islands are no place for profit, just misery.”

Zane nodded as Brecht left the bar visibly nervous and uncertain.

Without waiting, Zane also left the bar to return home and perform his own research on the fascinating information he had just uncovered.

Zane sat at his computer terminal in the small, run down cabin provided by Ailec Reltah. His recent conversation with a local businessman had been spectacular providing him with a fresh lead. It was just the sort of turn of fortune he was searching for to jump start his investigation which had run practically dry.

Pouring over maps of Astate, Zane focused on the Graithong area and its chain of islands. After some research one interesting fact stood out like a spotlight in a dark, night sky. A small Starfleet intelligence installation was located on one of the islands. From the records he had copied posing as an Admiral in Starfleet Security some days ago, Zane learned of the small listening outpost. Tiny and unmanned, the listening post recorded Romulan transmissions and presumably forwarded those communications back to the SFI office on Astate for decryption, translation, and transmission to fleet intelligence back on Earth. With the death of all of the SFI agents on Astate in the recent Romulan battle, Zane wondered if the facility was still operational. If so, where was it sending its information and who might be utilizing it?

Such questions garnered an inspection of the facility. It was doubtful the outpost was heavily guarded or protected. Such listening posts generally were small, were remotely operated, and could operate for months or years without maintenance. Sensing the possibility for a break in his case, Zane headed back into Caenis. He needed to visit Reltah and secure some transportation.

Affair on Astate: A Lotta Local Trouble Part X

Caenis, Astate

“Captain Akina, please come in”, the mercenary businessman Ailec Reltah said graciously as Zane entered the man’s office.

“Please have a seat. What brings you back so soon?”

Zane took a seat before Ailec Reltah’s desk. “I need some transportation.”

“May I ask your destination Captain?”

“Not far, I need to follow up on a lead in the Graithong area.”

“Graithong? How unusual your investigations would take you there. What lead has you making the journey into the jungle?”

Zane was reluctant to disclose the information he had learned, but he had to placate Reltah with something to secure more of the man’s resources and assistance.

“I’ve learned there’s some odd events that have occurred in the Graithong area recently. Missing persons, missing equipment – there’s rumors something was being built out there, however no one knows what. I’ve also heard rumors of a mysterious creature which eats men alive.”

“Odd, I’ve not heard these rumors, though I must admit there’s very little in the Graithong area which garners much scrutiny other than the occasional Klingon hunting wild game in the dense jungles. Hardly worthy of time or attention.”

“My source was quite convinced there was something odd occurring in the area. While the rumor of some beast that kills sounds like a cover, I want to investigate the area nonetheless. There’s also an SFI listening post which I would like to inspect.”

Reltah rubbed his chin as he looked at the captain as if contemplating the request. “Graithong is a dangerous place Captain. The jungles are dense, there are many animals that may prove dangerous, and several volcanoes and volcanic activity make adventuring hazardous.”

“Just another day in intelligence field work”, Zane quipped. “The transportation?”

“Alright captain. I’m sure I can secure a small shuttle or transport for you that can cover the distance. Would you prefer any assistance? I can have two or three of my men accompany you to provide additional security if you would prefer?”

“I work faster alone”, Zane quickly replied, “but I appreciate the offer.”

“Very well Captain. I will arrange transportation. You may pick it up tomorrow morning. Is that satisfactory?”

“Quite.”

“Very well then. I have an important meeting to attend in a few moments. I enjoyed our chat today. Do be careful in the Graithong area. I look forward to our next encounter Captain.”

Zane nodded as he left the mercenary’s office.

“That was easy”, he thought to himself as he left Reltah’s office building. Zane had several hours of packing and supply gathering to prepare for the jungle trip. He couldn’t be sure how long the trip would last depending on what he uncovered. Accustomed to the urban jungle, the real thing was sure to have some interesting surprises and dangers all its own.

Affair on Astate: Island Intrigue - Part I

Jungle Island – Graithong Island Chain, Astate

Having acquired a small, shuttle from the well connected and powerful mercenary, Ailec Reltah, Captain Zane Akina now had the transportation needed to reach the Graithong Island chain to continue his investigations into the bizarre and near fatal occurrences that had plagued him since arriving on Astate. Having been pulled into a web of lies, danger, and Astate’s criminal and corrupt underworld, Zane was now classified by Starfleet as MIA due to recent events that had nearly claimed his own life. Free to pursue the person or persons who had sought him out for information, Zane was well financed and supplied by the mercenary Reltah whose intentions were still unclear. With the ability to operate ‘outside’ of normal channels for the time being, Zane’s intentions were to shed light on the dark mysteries he had encountered and expose those who might pose a danger not just to himself, but to Starfleet and/or interstellar peace and stability. He had no shortages of loose ends, shady characters, and unanswered questions to investigate.

Zooming just over the treetops of the heavily forested islands of the Graithong region, Akina had chosen a few islands to investigate based upon the information he had obtained and his own research. It was clear that businessmen were avoiding the area due to stories and rumors of death and disappearance to anyone who ventured near the island chains. Such claims demanded investigation, but first he had a duty to perform. The SFI listening post, the only SFI property on Astate, needed a checkup.

The listening post was a small, automated structure requiring little maintenance. Its purpose was to intercept Romulan communications, record them, and forward them on to SFI personnel for decoding and translation. Since the Romulan attack on the Starfleet facilities and the death of the two SFI agents stationed on Astate, Zane had been unable to find what had happened to the intelligence information the station was supposed to be providing. No one seemed to miss the lack of incoming communication intercepts which puzzled Zane. Perhaps the war had SFI’s attention focused elsewhere, perhaps the station had yielded little data of any intelligence value, but it was still odd that no one at fleet was concerned over the loss of reports.

Spotting a tiny clearing in the trees, Akina quickly scanned the area. The ground was stable and the area provided good cover. The clearing was also close to the SFI listening post. Engaging the shuttle’s thrusters, Zane slowly maneuvered the craft down through the trees and carefully landed. After a few minutes of post flight operations, scanning the area for any dangers, and collecting his gear, Zane popped the hatch and exited the shuttle to setup camp and investigate the clearing.

Akina closed the hatch on the old, rusty shuttle that had been provided by Ailec Reltah. Avoiding a Starfleet patrol and flying close to the ocean’s surface to avoid being detected Zane had set the craft down on a small jungle island where Starfleet Intelligence had a remote listening outpost. Finding a landing site had been difficult. The island was covered in dense forests except for a small clearing near a section of beach. The gap in the trees created a good place to setup camp in addition to camouflaging the transport from prying eyes.

Zane pulled a device from his backpack and attached it to the transport’s small, rusty hull. The electronic unit, used for covert SFI operations, ensured the transport and the clearing would remain invisible to sensors from orbit just in case anyone was looking. Zane was sure Ailec Reltah had undergone significant expense to locate and acquire this specific device at his request. A precaution at least and a necessity at best, Zane was taking few chances after listening to the stories of people and equipment that had disappeared in the area. Remaining quiet, discrete, and invisible was exactly what Zane Akina intended to do.

Pulling the backpack stuffed with equipment and supplies onto his back, Zane gazed off into the dense jungle beyond the small clearing. A thin fog clung to the ground while the air was warm and thick with humidity like a bathroom after a hot shower. Insects buzzed about while the loud sounds of birds and animals echoed through the trees.

Zane grabbed the tricorder at his side and pulled up the map showing the location of the intelligence outpost. Ensuring the area was secure he set off into the jungle to locate the SFI listening outpost. Perhaps the computers there could provide him with some new leads about the strange rumors of the Graithong area. He had a hunch that the rumors surrounding the islands were somehow connected to his personal mission, but only time would tell.

Affair on Astate: Island Intrigue - Part II

Starfleet Intelligence - Listening Outpost - Graithong Island Chain - Astate Colony

Wiping the sweat that was pouring off his face and neck, Zane gazed into his tricorder. He had covered nearly two kilometers through dense jungle, underbrush, and stubborn plant life. The trek was slow-going and difficult. Fifty pounds of supplies and gear strapped to his back wasnʼt making his journey faster or easier.

Pressing forward through vines, dense trees, and thorny brambles Zane came to a small clearing hidden by dozens of tall trees. The area was surrounded by a tall security fence of Starfleet design and topped with sharp razor wire. At the center of the fenced off clearing was a small Starfleet building. Tall grass and plants had overgrown the clearing obscuring much of the building from view. A few metallic antennas were visible protruding from the top of the building no doubt a part of the listening equipment designed to intercept and record Romulan communication transmissions.

Scanning the area, Zane located the entrance to fence. It was locked by a weatherproofed security keypad. Zane considered cutting through the fence to gain access, but decided against forcibly breaking in. There was a possibility someone might still be using the facility even with the death of the local SFI agents who supposedly were the caretakers of this facility and its information. If he damaged or tampered with the equipment it was possible he might trip an alarm which might alert someone to his presence.

Examining the keypad revealed a standard issue Starfleet design. Zane was able to scan the device and determine the make and model. Using his invaluable toolkit of classified Starfleet intelligence information which was contained in a separate tricorder, Zane located the master code to the unit. SFI had backdoors into most computerized systems in use by Starfleet. Such information was both highly valuable and highly guarded. Zane, however, was no ordinary agent, and used his position and clearance to obtain any tools that might come in handy or in extreme cases, save his or another life. The intelligence game was a dangerous one with pitfalls and peril at every turn. To survive, one had to take advantage of any and all information that might prove useful.

Inputting the code caused the unit to unlock as the gate slowly swung open with a rusty groan. Stepping inside the fence, Zane closed the gate and carefully proceeded toward the small building several yards away. He pulled his disruptor pistol as he made his way through the tall grass, carefully and quietly to avoid detection. Reaching the building he quickly pressed himself up against its damp exterior and moved along it searching for its entrance.

A corner suggested the presence of a door. Zane carefully peered around the corner. A sudden blurred body rushed him followed by an ear piercing scream. His finger clamped down on the trigger of his disruptor as a single green beam shot off into the dark jungle before him at the rushing attacker. Zane quickly realized his attacker was no person, but an animal. Having spooked a large tropical parrot, the bird now sat on the buildingʼs roof staring oddly at Zane.

Slowing his heart rate, Zane stared up at the colorful blue bird which chattered above him as if laughing at the humanʼs reaction. Zane hurled a few verbal insults at the bird before focusing on the locked door before him. The building had a more complex locking system than the fence which was probably tied back into the Starfleet intelligence & security network in Caenis. Using his own credentials to open the door was risky. Currently, Captain Zane Akina was listed as MIA. If his codes were used it could trigger a security response as it was customary for all personnel listed as MIA to have their security clearances frozen.

While Captain Akina was listed as MIA, his alias, Commodore Theodore Reynolds was not. Entering the codes to the fictitious Starfleet Commodore whose fake identity and clearance codes came in handy for navigating situations such as these, Zane was easily able to unlock the door. Tapping the controls, the door slid open as dirt and dust fell from the entrance revealing the interior space of the building. Zane wasted little time and entered quickly.

The computer, detecting movement, activated the lights and computer systems as it waited for further commands.

The small two-room structure housed only a few pieces of specialized equipment. In the back room, Zane examined the antennas that ran through the ceiling and connected to the computers in the next room. A small generator sat nearby the antenna wiring which powered the facility. Zane checked the unit. Itʼs fuel cells were running low suggesting no one had been by recently to replace them. The generator was a standard model and could power a small facility such as this for several months without maintenance or refueling. Zane wondered how long it had been since someone had last visited the outpost. The lack of fuel was an indicator, however the computer would probably contain the logs of any recent visits.

Pulling the heavy backpack off his shoulders, Zane sat down at the small computer terminal in the next room and activated its single console. With some additional security codes and a few SFI tricks for bypassing security, Zane was curious to review the information in the computer system which might shed light on his investigation.

Affair on Astate: Island Intrigue - Part III

Starfleet Intelligence - Listening Outpost - Graithong Island Chain - Astate Colony

Captain Zane Akina, having successfully accessed the SFI listening post on Astate, sat quietly at the small computer system which controlled the tiny installation. Streams of data poured across the large main screen and four smaller displays. The outpost, though small in size, was collecting large quantities of data – subspace transmissions, Starfleet, Romulan, public, private both legal and illegal had been recorded and stored. Despite the volume of communication intercepts the post was also recording data from an installed sensor array which sat in geosynchronous orbit high above Astate. The satellite appeared to be of Starfleet design however Zane had been unable to access its systems given the limited equipment of the outpost. He surmised the satellite monitored Romulan ship movements, classes, transmissions in addition to possibly transmitting that data to one of any number of Starfleet subspace relay stations scattered throughout the quadrant.

As he poured over the data several small details began to emerge which seemed out of place for standard intelligence operations. Astate was not a major military or high value intelligence target and this outpost was simply here to provide limited electronic eyes on the Romulans on the chance event something of intelligence value could be recorded. As such, Zane questioned the need for anything beyond communication intercepts. The Romulans would never stage military assets on or near Astate of any significant quantity. The risk of detection was far too great. Marshalling forces would also violate treat obligations governing the Neutral Zone with the Federation.

That fact led him back to his initial question – why? Why were sensor readings being taken?

Several hours passed as he sifted through hundreds of seemingly meaningless intercepts and sensor scans. Everything seemed routine – too routine. Another anomaly Zane encountered was that the computers were nearly at capacity having failed to upload or transmit its collected data to SFI for processing and analysis. Running back the date of the last transmission uncovered another telling clue. The last upload of data occurred just before the two Starfleet Intelligence Operatives were killed in the Romulan attack of the Starfleet facilities on Astate.

Diving deeper a clearer picture began to emerge. The lack of maintenance of the facility had caught his eye, the sensor sweeps were unusual for a low priority monitoring station, the computer’s memory banks were nearly full having not been issued the command to transmit. That command was set to manual instead of automatic transmission which was standard procedure for an outpost such as this one.

Zane quickly suspected that the two intelligence officers that had been assigned to Astate were involved in something far more than simple intelligence gathering. He couldn’t prove they had been dirty or compromised, but they didn’t appear to be following normal SFI procedures. Perhaps they were being blackmailed or coerced, but he suspected there was more going on than anyone realized. Their suspicious deaths now seemed like a cover up, but for what? Who had done the killing and why?

“INQUIRY COMPLETE – SENSOR AND COMMUNICATION INTERCEPT SUMMARY NOW AVAILABLE”, the computer responded verbally to a command Zane issued minutes before.

“Computer, analyze recorded intercepts and compare against previous intercepts from the past year. Inquiry, are there any unusual communication spikes, dips, or other phenomenon which stand out from previous transmission patterns? Average the analysis, for anything statistically significant.”

“Affirmative. There are four such instances based on current parameters.”

Zane poured over the data. “Computer, disregard all transmission that have been intercepted over the last two months. The recent conflict with the Romulans will probably have caused abnormal spikes in normal transmission patterns. Recompute given previous parameters.” “Request complete. There are no statistically significant abnormalities in recorded transmissions during the time period specified utilizing the current analysis parameters.”

Zane leaned backwards in the chair rubbing his chin. The data didn’t support what his gut was telling him. Something wasn’t right. He just had to find that something in a sea of seemingly useless and unimportant information.

“Ok computer, round two. Analyze sensor data using the same parameters.”

“No statistically significant abnormalities in recorded sensor data.”

Zane frowned at the response. “How long does the sensor record go back?”

“Data files exist for the last six months.”

“No computer, how long has this facility been recording sensor data?”

“Four years, seven months, eighteen days, nine hours…”

“Ok ok computer. I got it. Let’s look at this from another angle. It appears the sensor package was installed by SFI some years ago. Tell me about the sensor’s primary function.”

“A Mark Six Model 04 Sensor package, Starfleet Intelligence designation 345-SSP-4. Current directive: Monitor all activity within range and record.”

“Not what I needed computer.”

“Please provide additional information.”

Zane sighed. He hated that computers were so logical. If they just had a little more personality perhaps he would enjoy research of this nature somewhat more.

“Just for the sake of argument computer, the orbital sensor satellite, does it scan the Romulan side of the planet?”

“Negative, current orbital position prevents direct scanning of Romulan territory.”

Zane’s interest suddenly peaked. “Really? If the satellite cannot scan Romulan territory then what is the satellite’s purpose?”

“To monitor all activity within range and record.”

“You already said that”, Zane said with a hint of anger. “If you aren’t watching the Romulan’s then who are you watching? Computer, the satellite in orbit, has its trajectory been altered since installation?”

“Affirmative. Satellite trajectory and position altered 1.2 years from today’s date.”

“By who?”

“Starfleet Intelligence Commander Christopher R. Scott.”

Zane smiled. “Dead, but yet not – the ghost persists.” The name corresponded to one of the two dead intelligence officers who had suspiciously been killed during the recent Romulan attacks.

“Ok, computer. Let’s see how tangled this web really is. Hypothetical analysis; given the current and previous locations of the current orbital sensor satellite from its installation four years ago to now, extrapolate the advantages of moving the satellite to its current orbital position and suggest all possible reasons for doing so.”

“Standby.”

Zane, now standing to get the blood in his legs moving after sitting still for several hours, patiently waited for the computer to chew on his latest inquiry.

“Analysis complete. Movement of orbital satellite would provide the following monitoring advantages: Improved tracking capability of Federation controlled spaceports and landing areas. Improved monitoring of major Federation and Starfleet cities and facilities. Improved monitoring of all incoming and departing vessels from Federation controlled land masses. Current orbital location provides excellent scanning of planet’s eastern hemisphere.”

“I see. Continue hypothetical analysis – Would current orbital position allow for quality scanning of Romulan land masses and traffic paterns?”

“Negative.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere”, Zane said as if the computer cared. He now had a moved satellite whose position had been altered for some unknown purpose, but the intent appeared to be to spy on Starfleet activities and Federation assets instead of the Romulans.

“Computer, access log files. Has anyone initiated or requested scans of specific locations on Astate?”

“Affirmative.”

“Well by all means computer, let’s have the log summaries in audio.”

“Stardate 240708.14 – Commander Christoper R. Scott, Requestor, - command issued to scan Graithong island chain. Results uploaded to SFI computer network in Caenis.

Next Entry, Stardate 240712.21 – Commander Christopher R. Scott, Requestor – command issued for high resolution scan of Graithong Island Chain. Results uploaded to SFI computer network in Caenis.

Next Entry, Stardate 240712.29 – Requestor Data Missing – inquiry logged for previous six months of all inbound and outbound traffic from Astate colony. Detail: vessel identifications, durations of visits, activity recorded at all major spaceports and landing facilities both Starfleet and civilian. Inquiry detail also included visits of all recent starships, capital ships, or other military vessels recorded in orbit of both Federation and Romulan design.

Next Entry…”

“Whoa, computer, that’s enough’, Zane said with an excited tone. It seemed like he had just found his needle in a haystack.

“Let’s go back to the first entry. The scans requested by Commander Scott; any specific areas targeted in those scans?”

“Affirmative. Displaying coordinates.”

Zane took a look at the computer’s results. Shocked by what he saw, he pulled out his tricorder and verified his own position. Holding the tricorder up to the computer’s own screen Zane compared the data. Both screens showed the exact same coordinates. Commander Scott had been requesting detailed scans of this outpost. The very ground Zane now stood on had been probed time and time again. After a few minutes of further research it appeared this island was almost constantly scanned even now, but why?

Why scan an area over and over again?

Zane thought for a moment. Continuous scanning of a specific area was significant. Had Commander Scott been looking for something specific? That reasoning didn’t make sense. High resolution scans would have told him exactly what was here – so why keep looking? What value were sensor scans of this island? Why continue to scan again and again?

Perhaps Scott wasn’t searching for something at all – what if he had been monitoring something. The repeated scans might indicate he was watching this area for changes. If that was the case then there had to be something on this island worth watching. It made sense. Someone had been looking at departures and arrivals, ship movements, normal activities – such information would be crucial to someone who wanted to carry out activities in a clandestine manner. Knowing where patrols were, the routes of inbound and outbound transports, even the position of orbiting starships would be needed to avoid detection.

The evidence was still circumstantial, however Zane’s instinct screamed to him loudly from within his head. Someone had been watching this island which meant there was something here worth watching. Zane thought back to the conversation he had had with the construction owner at the bar. The nervous man had indicated that other construction workers, rivals, competitors were engaged in shady business deals and that some of them had gone missing. Had this island been the place of their disappearance? Had some clandestine construction occurred here?

“Computer, using the orbital satellite, scan my current location and widen scan to include entire island. Set sensors for maximum resolution. Upon completion report any anomalous findings.”

“Acknowledged. Scan will require 27.3 minutes to complete at maximum resolution.”

“Fine. Execute instructions.”

“Affirmative. Scanning requested coordinates.”

Zane ran a hand through his hair while the computer scanned the island. He suspected the results would be interesting. Grabbing an energy bar from his backpack, he again took a seat at the computer. There were now more twists that had emerged that demanded investigation and follow up. Determined not to waste a second, Zane continued his research of the data while he waited for the computer to complete its scans.