15
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or its related properties. All such rights and considerations belong to CBS/Paramount.
This is the ninth installment of the Special Investigations Division. I hope you enjoy it because more is on the way.
It was a bright and sunny day in Cervantes City, the capital of Nuevo Espana. In the famed Conquistador Park, out in front of the Parliament building, sat a nondescript human woman in her thirties. She normally did have one noticeable distinguishing mark but the disruptor burn on her check was expertly covered with make up. She sat in the park, quietly eating her lunch and reading a book. Unobtrusively, she checked her wrist chrono.
A smile of satisfaction spread across her face as she saw the time. She buried her nose in the book and counted down the seconds. With a thunderous noise, it began. Explosions began gutting the Parliament building. They ended with a deafening explosion that destroyed the prized crystal dome that sat atop the building.
People in the park stood mutely transfixed. The woman stood and stared with a look of horror on her features. Some of the crowd began to run away, to check on loved ones, to attempt to assist survivors or merely to crawl home and hide under the bed. The woman stayed, aware that the display wasn't over yet.
The emergency response crews were arriving now and racing into the building. Secondary explosions began to rip through the surviving structure, causing several levels of the building to collapse in upon itself. Aircars and lorries travelled to the uppermost levels of the building and disgorged rescue crews. The building's framework was too badly damaged by this time and the uppermost levels collapsed. Within moments, the entire structure imploded. Of everyone that had been in the building when this reign of terror began, none survived.
The woman slowly closed her book and still maintaining her look of sickened dismay, placed the book in her bag. She picked up her trash from lunch and took it to the nearest replicator for recycling. She then confidently strolled out of the park to catch a cab. She had a ride waiting for her and the rest of her team at the shuttleport.
The woman joined her teammates aboard a modified Ju'day-class raider. The ship's captain congratulated her as she stepped onto the cramped bridge and her team stowed their gear.
"Good job Deirdre." Captain Reynolds said, "If that doesn't get our point across, nothing will."
"It'll send a message but I'm not sure what kind. These people are stupid enough to deal with the Cardies for God's sake."
Reynolds noticed Deirdre picking at her cheek, "Point taken. Now get in back and scrub your face. Remember to have your people strap in to the crash couches, we're going into combat and I don't want to lose our vanguard covert operations team."
"Aye, aye sir." Deirdre snapped off a salute and went aft.
Reynolds' ship, the Viper, joined a dozen other raiders and light attack craft in orbit. They were waiting for the Galor-class Hurak to investigate. When she arrived, she would find a nasty surprise lying in wait for her.
Castellan Ghemor, Cardassia's first democratically elected official within living memory, swore as he tossed the report of the bombing of Cervantes City. Most of the legislative assembly for the planet was now dead, or buried under tons of rubble praying for death. Since the war against the Federation Alliance ended and Cardassia's new government had been ushered in, relations with the DMZ colonies had been improving from their pre-war conditions. Espana had been a guiding light in these improved relations.
Prime Minister Cortez had negotiated a treaty to be shown to the other DMZ worlds granting them the status of an autonomous region within the Cardassian Union. Defence and foreign policy would be handled by the Union. All other matters would be for the local authorities to handle. It was an arrangement that both Cortez and Ghemor hoped would resolve the lingering resentment of the colonies' treatment at the hands of first the Cardassian High Command and then the tender mercies of the Dominion.
The Dominion had captured over a hundred of the Maquis rebels, hundreds more had been slaughtered in the purge that finally established complete Cardassian control of the DMZ. The remainder of the colonies' populations had been used as slave labour and as hostages guaranteeing the good behaviour of their Maquis prisoners. Espana had been spared the worst of the Dominion's excesses through a carefully orchestrated policy of co-operation.
And now, Ghemor thought bitterly, someone's decided to label them as collaborators because of their war record and their efforts to being stability to the region.
"Careful." Elim Garak advised, "Your face is giving too much away."
"Damn it, Garak!" Ghemor snarled, "I'm not one of your former Obsidian Order cronies, I have feelings."
"As do I." Garak spread his arms wide in supplication; "I'm merely suggesting that you be more…circumspect in your emotional displays given the fragility of our blossoming democracy."
"Meaning an over eager Gul might interpret my orders to investigate these latest attacks as permission to slaughter anyone in his path based upon my facial expression."
Garak smiled and bowed his head slightly, "Exactly."
"They blew up the Parliament building of one of their own colonies." Ghemor vented, "Then they crippled one of our cruisers. They would have destroyed it if the USS Nimitz had responded our SOS. We owe their survival to Starfleet."
"Forgive me for asking," Garak gently enquired, "but why am I here? Other than to serve as a sounding board, that is."
Ghemor sunk low in his office chair and released a heavy sigh, "I need advice Elim."
"It seems to me you need to send a representative to meet with these new generation of Maquis."
"Great." Ghemor remarked flippantly, "And who could I send that won't get shot on sight?"
"Send heroes of the original Maquis rebellion." Garak suggested.
"And where am I going to find any of those sympathetic to our cause?"
Garak shrugged, "Starfleet has several on call. I'd ask them."
Ghemor leaned back in his chair with a speculative look on his face, "Really?"
Brin Macen, T'Kir, and Shannon Forger stood in the transporter room aboard the SS Obsidian. The Nova-class surveyor was in orbit over Earth. It was the first time in six months the crew had visited the hub of the United Federation of Planets and of Starfleet. They had good reason to be here now. Captain Macen was to receive an emergency briefing on the ship's next assignment and they were picking up their 1st Officer.
Tom Riker had taken the last six months off to recover from the death of his fiancé. Jamie Kirk died in the rescuing of Macen and T'Kir from the hands of an Orion Syndicate Don. It had taken the death of that Don to persuade the Orion Godfather to end hostilities between the Syndicate and Outbound Ventures, Inc.
Outbound Ventures was a security consulting and surveying firm that contracted out to Starfleet Intelligence's Special Investigations Division. The Obsidian had been Macen's signing bonus. The firm was very strong and relied a lot on word of mouth advertising. Seeing as how business was booming, the word was very good.
Macen and T'Kir stood together, holding hands. Married for six months, a couple for six years and friends for a dozen, they were nearly inseparable. Not that the SID brass wanted them separated. Together they formed a formidable, and deadly, team. Each member of Macen's investigative team was remarkable. Together and as individuals, they'd faced impossible odds and walked away alive and whole.
The transporter hummed and Tom Riker materialised amidst a halo of incandescent energy. He was an unusually tall, barrel chested human. He wore his dark hair short and spiky and his beard neatly trimmed. His icy blue eyes warmed at the sight of his comrades and he grinned.
"Well, well, what's with the uniforms?"
Macen glanced down at his attire, "It's the same basic uniform I wore before, Tom."
"Yeah, but now you have T'Kir wearing it too." Riker observed, "And you've got this other lady looking like Rab Daggit."
Macen wore a charcoal grey Henley with black cargo pants and black boots. T'Kir wore an emerald green Henley with identical pants and boots. Forger, on the other hand, wore an outfit based upon the Earth M.A.C.O.s
"The bulk of the crew wear flightsuits or coveralls." Macen explained, "There are just a few that branch out. The investigative team can wear what they want and Security and Tactical wear the M.A.C.O fatigues. Medical, Sciences and Engineering basically rely upon coveralls in various colours."
"But I see the holster and utility belt remain the same." Riker commented, "And I also see we're still carrying Bajoran Militia issue phasers."
Macen patted the holster strapped to his thigh, "Best surplus latinum can buy."
"So what happens now?" Riker enquired.
"First," Macen gestured towards the grey eyed blonde standing to the side, "you confer with Lt. Commander Forger here. Shannon's the ship's 2nd Officer but she's been filling your shoes in your absence. She'll bring you up to speed on all the personnel matters of note. I suggest you stop by your office and learn about the filing system Shannon devised."
"What about my gear?" Riker asked indicating the two duffel bags on the transporter pads.
"Shannon will have someone take those to your quarters." Macen informed him, "And don't bury yourself in work. We're having a welcome home party at 1900 hours."
Riker grinned and nodded, "I never miss a party."
"If you'd follow me, sir." Forger's contralto chimed.
"Wait a minute." Riker protested, "We're using our reserve commission ranks, right?"
Macen nodded.
"Then why is she 'sirring' me? I'm only a lieutenant. She's a lt. commander."
"Actually, you're both lt. commanders." Macen laughed, "You got promoted while you were on personal leave."
"Promoted?" Riker asked sceptically.
"They do promote in the reserves, Tom. I promise." Macen chuckled.
"Not me, they don't." Riker grumbled, "They'd promote Captain Will Riker, but not me."
"Well," Macen patted Riker on the shoulder, "They did this time. Sit back and enjoy it."
"Yeah, some of us are still stuck with being brevet lieutenants." T'Kir grumbled.
"And some of us will survive." Macen quipped.
T'Kir stuck out her tongue and Macen chuckled, "You two have fun. We're headed dirtside."
"We're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz." T'Kir suddenly sang, "Because, because, because, because of the wonderful things she does."
Macen grinned as he and T'Kir stepped up to two empty transporter pads. As they disappeared, Forger turned to Riker.
"Do you have any idea what that was about?"
Riker his head while wearing a wry grin, "I got a reference to a classic children's book but that was about it."
Forger sighed, "I'll never figure her out."
"Don't try." Riker advised, "It's how the rest of us survive."
"I'll keep that in mind." Forger relented, "C'mon, I'll show you to your office and have someone pick up your gear."
"Sounds good." Riker agreed.
"Telrik!" Forger called out to the Tellarite Transporter Chief, "Call Yeoman Rizo and have him deliver the XO's bags to his quarters."
"Yes, ma'am." Telrik snapped off crisply and toggled the comm circuit.
"Let's go." Forger assertively "suggested" to Riker.
"Tight ship you're running here." Riker commented as he followed Forger's brisk stride.
"Not really." Forger replied, "The Captain's pretty laid back when it comes to protocol."
"You have no idea." Riker observed warningly.
Macen and T'Kir arrived at the SID headquarters located in Reading, England and were greeted by the SID Director's aide. Lieutenant Ambril Delori gave Macen and T'Kir security badges. The Bajoran warmly smiled at the couple.
"Since this is the first time I've seen you together since your wedding, let me congratulate you on your marriage."
Macen and T'Kir both broke into radiant grins, "Thanks." they said in unison.
The Bajoran laughed, "I see great minds think alike."
"Well, these minds are wondering why Amanda called us here." Macen informed Ambril.
"Admiral Drake hasn't divulged anything, beyond some cursory details, to me." Ambril divulged, "I can tell you this, I've been doing a lot of research on the DMZ with the Cardassians lately."
Macen and T'Kir exchanged meaningful glances over that piece of news. They'd met amidst the fires of the Maquis rebellion. That bloody conflict had forged a permanent relationship between them. Their time with the SID had merely fostered it and brought it to maturity.
Not many Maquis had survived the Dominion's purge of the DMZ. The only ones in the service of Starfleet were Ro Laren, Tom Riker, The captain and select members of the crew of the Voyager, Macen and T'Kir. If something was happening in the DMZ, and the Cardassians called for assistance, they would be the individuals called in. Now the question remained, were they here to consult or to accept a mission?
Ambril led them to Admiral Drake's office and ushered them in after buzzing Drake and securing her permission to enter. Ambril remained outside in her outer office as Macen and T'Kir entered. Drake rose from her desk and motioned for them to be seated in one of the two chairs placed in front of her desk. As they sat, Drake took a moment to observe her two guests.
Macen's appearance seemed ageless. As an El-Aurian, his lifetime was hundreds of years beyond that of humans. Although he appeared to be in his low to mid-thirties, he'd lived over four hundred and thirty years. His physical appearance seemed better than ever. Marriage had definitely agreed with him.
Macen was fair skinned and possessed fair red hair. He wore a moustache and goatee. He was physically trim and fit thanks to his regular workouts with the Obsidian's Angosian Tactical Officer. His lively blue-green eyes sparkled with a keen intelligence. It was that intellect that had merited being here.
Once upon a time, Macen had been one of Starfleet Intelligence's top analysts. Then he'd been sent out to the field during the Border Wars. Then had come his infiltration of the Maquis followed by his covert ops during the Dominion War. His tenure with the SID just continued the tradition of employing his analytical skills with his tactical abilities.
T'Kir also appeared far younger than her actual age. As a Vulcan, she had a life expectancy nearing three hundred years. At just over seventy years old, she appeared to be in her late twenties-early thirties.
T'Kir's natural beauty was unquestioned. Her copper based blood granted her a pale olive complexion that was the envy of most Mediterranean natives. She tucked her mid shoulder length raven hair behind her delicately upswept ears. Her slightly upturned nose balanced her full, "bee stung" lips. Her sapphire blue eyes flashed with a cunning intelligence.
T'Kir was the wildcard of the crew. Committed to a maximum security psychiatric facility after the Dominion's purge of the DMZ. Macen broke her out after the Dominion War concluded to enlist her skills for a covert investigation. T'Kir was a nearly unparalleled cybernetics engineer and hacker.
Her mental instabilities stemmed from her telepathic abilities. T'Kir was a high level telepath, able to glean the thought of everyone within a kilometre's distance. She'd been unable to control this ability and she'd been constantly barraged by intruding thoughts. Her own personality was submerged beneath the psychic turmoil.
Macen's research led the way to an ancient Vulcan remedy for such a condition. It greatly limited T'Kir's ability but it brought it under control. Now she only "read" those she chose to. Now her former curse often proved to be the crew's ace-in-the-hole.
Both Macen and T'Kir looked slightly anxious and Drake could practically feel their anticipation. Drake opted to end their suffering.
"I take it by your hungry expressions that Ambril leaked the fact that this concerns the Cardassian DMZ."
"Yup." T'Kir confirmed while Macen nodded.
"Here's the skinny," Drake cut straight to the chase, "a group referring to themselves as the Real Maquis have begun a terrorist campaign. So far they've crippled a Cardassian cruiser, sabotaged an orbital ore processor, raided the troop barracks of the Cardassian mission on Thetus III, and blown up the Parliament building on Espana. The Cardassian government has requested Starfleet's assistance in this matter. More to the point, they requested your assistance."
"I'm surprised the Cardassians even remember us." Macen replied.
"I understand the request was at the suggestion of Elim Garak." Drake informed them.
"'Plain and simple tailor' my ass." T'Kir muttered.
"Mr. Garak has a prominent role in the government." Drake said then looked at Macen, "But I suspect you already know that."
Macen shrugged and Drake continued, "You've been authorised to root out this new incarnation of the Maquis and stop them by whatever means are necessary."
"Executing them will only breed further resistance." Macen advised.
"The Cardassians prefer arresting them and having them stand trial over killing them." Drake clarified, "However, if lethal force is required, you are authorised to utilise it."
"That's acceptable." Macen agreed, "I suppose we're to ship out immediately."
"That's the plan."
Macen sighed, "That's what I thought."
"This filing system is impressive." Riker commented.
Forger smiled, "It was nothing."
"What were you in Starfleet? Admin?" Riker enquired.
"Tactical." Forger revealed, "In fact, my command experience is limited to when the CO and XO of the Patrick Henry were killed in the battle for Betazed. I was the temporary CO for a couple of months."
"And now you're the 2nd Officer of this ship."
Forger nodded, "And Assistant Tactical Officer."
"Well it seems to me you did a fine job as 1st Officer. Personnel matters seem well in hand." Riker observed, "Thanks for doing such an excellent job. You'll have my seat soon enough."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Forger grinned.
"Can I just mention that you look very familiar?"
Forger sighed, "I get that a lot. I closely resemble my older sister."
"Who is?"
Forger sighed again, "Amanda Drake."
"Admiral Amanda Drake?" Riker exclaimed.
Forger nodded, "She's almost ten years older than me."
"What's with the different surnames?"
Forger shrugged, "Amanda's very traditional. She took her husband's name when they married."
"Admiral Drake is married?" Riker asked, incredulous.
"Listen, can we keep this quiet?" Forger pleaded, "I've worked hard to further my career on my own merits. I don't want any privileges because of who my sister is."
"I feel the same way about my 'brother'." Riker revealed, "So don't worry Commander, your secrets safe."
Relief washed across Forger's face, "Thanks. And by the way, it's Shannon to my friends."
"Then I guess I've just joined select company. And it's Tom."
"Well Tom, I guess its time to show you to your quarters, unless you have any more questions?"
Riker shook his head, "No, I think you've briefed me on everything I need to know."
Forger moved for the door, "If you'd follow me then."
"Macen to Commander Forger." Came over the intercom. Forger moved to the desk and activated the comm circuit.
"Captain, you're back."
"Yup, and I've got an unpleasant task for you."
"Should I be afraid?"
Macen chuckled, "That depends. I need you to recall all the shore parties."
"Okay, I'm afraid."
"Can't be helped. We're shipping out as soon as everyone's recovered." Macen explained.
"That urgent?"
"Urgent enough." Macen replied, "People are dying and it's up to us to stop it."
"I'll get right on it." Forger promised, then she closed the circuit and turned to Riker, "Sorry Tom but duty calls."
"Don't worry about it. I'll have Yeoman Rizo show me the way."
Forger smiled, "Thanks."
"No problem." Riker said and hit the intercom, "Yeoman Rizo, please report to the XO's office."
Forger began issuing the recall orders while Riker waited for Rizo to arrive. When the yeoman appeared, Riker made his request known. As they departed, Riker took one last glance at Shannon Forger. A remarkable woman. Riker mused, She reminds me of Jamie. And on that bittersweet note, Riker left.
