22
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or its related properties. All such rights and considerations belong to CBS/Paramount.
This is the eighth installment of the Special Investigations Series. Hold on because more is coming.
2381 – Three years later,
The Blackbird-class scout, Solstice, dove into the planetary atmosphere. The advantage the Solstice had in this situation is that she was designed for atmospheric operations. The earlier Blackbirds had been strictly extra-atmospheric operations platforms. The Solstice was also the first new hull construction of the class in thirty years. A lot of design options had developed in that amount of time.
Corbal V's atmosphere held a high ion charge. Upon atmospheric entry, the Solstice lost her primary sensors. The more heavily shielded auxiliaries engaged but the price of being more heavily shielded was that they were less sensitive, which reads as less effective. The ship's main viewer transformed into a miasma of static before shifting to a straight camera shot angled straight ahead from the "nose" of the ship's saucer section.
"Grace," Tom Riker called as he rose from the command chair. A sudden, and unexpected, bout of turbulence almost threw Riker back into his seat, "What the holy hell are you playing at Hannah?"
"It's not me, honest." the young woman at the helm replied, "The ion density in the atmosphere is higher than we expected. It's playing hob with our sensors and the electrostatic discharges are creating turbulence. That's just the way it is. I suggest you sit down and ride it out quietly with the rest of us, sir!"
Slightly stunned, Riker sat down. He idly wondered what had ever happened to the meek, mild, and slightly timid woman that had been the crew's pilot for the last six years. And therein lay the answer. Grace had spent the last six years serving with, and living beside, the crew of the Solstice. Although the ships had changed a few times over this period, the crew had largely remained intact. They'd become an ersatz family of sorts, certainly more than a collection of lost souls with nowhere else to go.
"Hannah, what's going on?" Brin Macen asked as he and T'Kir stepped out of the turbolift.
"I'm on it, Captain. Take a seat and relax." Grace grated.
Macen's eyebrows rose. He glanced over towards T'Kir and nudged his head in the direction of T'Kir's OPS station, situated right beside Grace's Helm. T'Kir warmly smiled, an unsettling sight on any Vulcan other than T'Kir, and she went off and manned her station.
"`Lo Hannah." T'Kir greeted her jovially, "`S'up?"
Grace gritted her teeth in anger for a moment, then unclenched her jaw with a sigh, "The aerial guides are misaligned and the manoeuvring thrusters are wonky, and have been for a month. I'm flying a ship with the glide potential of a brick virtually blind and with unreliable flight controls. I honestly don't know if I can pull it off this time."
An exceptionally powerful telepath even amongst other known telepathic races, T'Kir could sense the anguish that Grace's admission cost her. T'Kir stabbed the intercom button and keyed it to Engineering.
"Parva, haul your ass up to the bridge now!"
Riker cast a pained expression Macen's way. Macen wore a bemused grin and shrugged. The chain of command aboard the Solstice was fairly loose. There was only one cardinal rule: Macen was the ship's captain.
Long before Macen and T'Kir had become engaged, they'd served alongside one another in the Maquis. T'Kir had been subordinate to Macen then as well. He'd become well acquainted with her tendency to circumvent authority early on. Although this trait was far from tamed, he'd curtailed her attempts to usurp his command
Riker, dealing from the position of Executive Officer, felt that any challenge to his authority belittled his position. After three years, he'd curbed his knee-jerk hostile reaction to T'Kir's antics, especially after seeing that they had the tacit support of the Ship's captain. Riker contented himself with nonverbal protests to T'Kir's various actions. At first to his ire, and now to his ongoing surprise, T'Kir's unsolicited deeds were more often than not the exact solution needed for whatever problem she was attempting to tackle.
It doesn't hurt that she's a telepath. Riker thought to himself, In fact, she's probably reading me right now.
"How could I not, Tom." T'Kir replied over her shoulder, "You're thinking hard enough to give me a headache."
Oh, Christ! Riker thought miserably.
Macen clapped him on the shoulder as he passed by, "Relax Tom. She's merely playing with you."
"What happens when she stops playing?""
"First, your nose bleeds, then your vision darkens and it feels like your skull explodes as a massive haemorrhage engulfs your brain."
"Sorry I asked." Riker muttered.
"Never ask unless you're ready for the answer." Macen counselled.
"And should I be afraid to ask how you know this?" Riker tentatively inquired.
Macen's grin was wicked, "Probably."
"Thanks for the warning." Riker replied.
Macen was still grinning as he passed Rab Daggit and his Tactical station to take a seat at his Information Systems station. The bridge Science station had been removed and all function rerouted to Astrometrics. In its place was a custom designed station that overlapped the various sensor displays and communication feeds. The InfoSys also contained the library computer.
InfoSys was located behind Tactical. The Solstice's bridge generally followed the layout of the Galaxy-class Battle Bridge. The OPS and Helm stations sat directly in front of the main viewer. Centred behind them sat the Command chair and its displays. Behind Command, on an elevated deck, lay the Tactical board. Tactical was the solitary standing station on the bridge. InfoSys was built into the rear bulkhead.
The turbolift opened to the "left" of the bridge, when facing the viewer. At the rear of the bridge was another door. This door led to the main briefing room. The briefing room was designed for six officers, the normal complement aboard a Blackbird-class scout. This design element made for some interesting adaptations when briefing all nine members of the Solstice's crew.
The Solstice herself appeared to be a sleek, streamlined hybrid between the Ambassador and Excelsior-class ships. One major difference was her overall length of 104 metres versus those of 526 metres and 467 metres respectively. She'd been designed for a crew complement of twenty-two officers and crewmen. The original Blackbird-class ships had been scoutships and border patrol vessels. They'd been replaced by the Sabre-class.
The Solstice had been built from the keel up as a multi-role covert operations platform. Starfleet's Special Projects Yard had constructed her for Outbound Ventures, Inc. At the time, Outbound Ventures was primarily a front for a group of irregulars contracted with Starfleet Intelligence's Special Investigations Division. Over time, accepting contracts between SID assignments, Outbound Ventures garnered quite a reputation amongst the security "consulting" firms.
Three years ago, when one influential Starfleet admiral persuaded enough of his peers, the SID was forbidden the use of irregulars. All freelance contracted employees were discharged. Macen and his crew decided to make a go of it working full time for Outbound Ventures. Macen hired on one new captain and equipped her with a ship. He also recruited five of the irregulars to join the corporation. The Solstice was now the flagship of a seven vessel "fleet".
The crew had adapted to their new role with surprising equanimity. On average, their assignments were far more leisurely than they had been with Starfleet. Then there were the rare cases that imperilled every member of the crew. It also worked on the individual level. The average criminal they confronted was an idiot. The odd malevolent geniuses arose just to prove that criminals, too, could escape the law of averages.
The crew's contract this time around wasn't overtly difficult but there were potential complications. The situation on Corbal was simple enough. Corbal was a mining outpost. Although there was a regular rotation for sending miners offworld to their families, Corbal itself boasted quite and impressive entertainment industry. The Ferengi and the Bolians had struggled over most of the franchise rights. Even the Bajorans maintained a presence on Corbal.
In order to accommodate the miners' needs and desires, the various mining cartels distributed the bulk of their employees' wages amongst the families but a portion was set aside for the miners themselves. Given the profitability of the mines and the nature of the profit sharing agreements between most of the miners and the owners, that accounted for a great deal of latinum.
The problem presented itself in the form of a band of raiders that had held up the last three payroll shipments. It was unknown whether these pirates represented a lone effort or an exercise of a larger, malignant will. Macen and his crew were ostensibly here to deliver the payroll. In truth, they were here to safeguard the latinum, apprehend the raiders, and if possible, recover the stolen cash. But first, they had to land in one piece.
The turbolift doors opened and disgorged a lone passenger. A green-skinned woman sallied forth and headed straight for T'Kir. Blonde bangs and strips framing her emerald face highlighted her raven hair. Her name was Parva, and since the departure of Hal Dracas, she'd been the Solstice's Chief Engineer.
"What in the seven hells do you mean to talk to me like that?" Parva hotly demanded of T'Kir.
"What the hell d'you mean by not calibrating the thrusters? Grace is having difficulty." T'Kir informed the incensed engineer, "She doesn't know if she can land this frinxing albatross."
The turbolift doors had opened again during this exchange, revealing an auburn haired Bajoran woman, "Are we gonna crash? I don't want to crash."
Riker pinched his nose and closed his eyes, "We aren't going to crash, Radil. Are we, Hannah?"
"I have no frinxing clue." Grace replied with a tinge of panic.
T'Kir and Parva engaged in a shouting match while Radil fretted and Grace crumbled before their eyes. Riker was about to shout out instructions for everyone to shut up and calm down when a piercing whistle sounded across the bridge. Macen stood beside Rab Daggit, the only composed crewman on the bridge. It was hard to rattle the former commando.
Cursed with a singular inability to whistle, Macen relied upon a mechanical whistle to get his point across in situations such as this. He returned it to its pocket in his utility belt and surveyed the bridge with a slow steady gaze.
"Anyone that doesn't have an active duty station on the bridge, clear off. Now." Macen said in calm, measured tones, "T'Kir, see what you can do about improving sensor performance. Tom, contact the local equivalent of traffic control. See if they can help guide us in."
Macen strode over to the Helm station and knelt beside it, "Hannah, don't panic. You're doing fine. You've gotten us through worse in the past. You'll get us through this as well. I have faith in you. Have a little more in yourself."
Grace looked at Macen with tears welling up in her eyes, "Thank you, Captain." She sniffled and wiped her eyes, "I can do this." she said with a little more conviction. "I'm going to do this." she vowed, "By God, I'm going to pull this off."
"That's the spirit." Macen said and squeezed her shoulder as he rose.
"Thanks." Riker whispered as he passed by.
Macen paused and broke into a lopsided grin, "All in the job description. Look it up."
Riker chuckled, "And where would I find that?"
"In the library computer under 'lost in the woods'." Macen laughed and returned to the InfoSys station.
Within a few minutes, the interference clouding the sensors largely faded. Parva began co-ordinating with Grace and made some significant adjustments to the thruster settings. Grace was then able to stabilise the descent. There were still bumps along the way, but nothing perilous or alarming.
They proceeded to the primary mining camp. The landing strip was seven kilometres outside of the compound. They would bring the payroll in to town and hand it over to the paymaster. In order to do this, they'd have to divide the crew into two groups.
The Solstice's crew was primarily divided into two groups: the Investigative team and the Ship's Crew. The Investigative team had four permanent members, Brin Macen, T'Kir, Rab Daggit, and Radil Jenrya. Riker was the only fixture on the ship's complement. Hannah Grace and Parva were occasionally called in to an investigation but it was rare. The ship's Klingon medic and Trill scientific expert were also called in to solve esoteric riddles.
This time, the usual four team members were proceeding into town. The others were on hot stand-by in case of an intervention by the raiders' ship. If things went as expected, both teams would have their work cut out for them today.
Macen's team would be utilising a Work Drone to deliver the two cargo containers holding the latinum. The Work Drone's were a terrestrial variant of the Work Bee. The Drone was slightly longer than the Bee and possessed magnetic repulsorlifts as its primary powertrain. The Solstice's Drone was also a convertible model. Since local conditions were sunny and warm, as would be expected of a high desert terrain in the middle of its summer season, the team opted to keep the top down and enjoy the suns.
Daggit and Radil already had the Drone prepped and ready by the time Macen, T'Kir, and Riker reached the shuttlebay they'd be using to launch the Drone.
"We'll be ready to move the moment these pirates make a move." Riker assured Macen.
"Didn't expect anything less." Macen confessed, "Take care of the crew, Tom."
Riker grinned confidently, "I always do. You all take care as well."
"And miss all the action and excitement?" T'Kir interjected.
Riker shook his head and Macen pulled T'Kir over to the Drone and pointed. She boarded with a shrug and nestled in behind the flight controls. Macen sat beside her. Daggit and Radil had the rear seat. Somehow, the seating arrangements seemed preordained.
Grace manned the shuttlebay's flight control "centre". Riker joined her and observed as she manipulated the tractor controls and elevated the Type 18 shuttle into the air. As the Equinox hovered there, T'Kir manoeuvred the Drone into place over the drop doors.
"Mule's in place and ready to commence." T'Kir said into her earpiece/microphone receiver/transmitter.
"Roger that Mule." Grace said, all poise and precision now that she'd conquered her earlier doubts, "Standby for 'Go' in three…two…one…Go!"
The drop doors swung open and the Drone fell out of the bay, plummeting towards the ground. T'Kir kicked up the repulsorlifts and brought the work sled to a controlled hover a few metres off the ground.
"Let's get busy." Macen instructed and T'Kir toggled the throttle and sped the Mule off towards the mining camp.
The arrivals of the Solstice and subsequently, the Mule, caused quite a stir in Latinum Central, the largest mining camp on Corbal. Out in front of the Paymaster's office stood Franjean Rool, the mine's general manager, Aldous Drinkwater, the Paymaster, and two local security guards. They stood out in front of the watering troughs for the pack animals the miners sometimes employed.
Off duty miners loitered about, seeking free entertainment. Free was the operative word these days since no one had been paid for three weeks. The mining companies had swiftly provided food replicators, clothing, and other sundry items. They refused, however, to pay for their workers' cavorting with professional "entertainers".
Rool, for one, was surprised at the appearance and numbers of his "supposed" expert security team. He'd expected a small army, not a mere armed contingent comprised of two people. Not that these two didn't appear dangerous.
Brin Macen hopped out of the Mule's passenger compartment. He wore black cargo pants and boots. His leather utility belt possessed a holster that descended to his mid-thigh. Macen topped off his ensemble with a charcoal grey tee shirt and black sensor glasses. Sensor glasses acted as both sunglasses and vision enhancers.
Macen himself was 1.84 metres tall and of medium build. Four years of daily workouts with the physically imposing Daggit had honed Macen's physique to the best shape of his extended life. Macen was an El-Aurian and had lived for over four hundred and thirty years. He possessed reddish-gold hair and wore a moustache and goatee. His eyes were a light blue that reflected the colour of whatever he wore.
If Macen's mien unsettled Rool, the causes behind it would have terrified him. Like all of the El-Aurians dwelling in the Alpha Quadrant, Macen was a survivor of the Borg assimilation of his homeworld. This event was followed by many trials that cost both lives and the refugees' ships. When they entered the Alpha Quadrant there were only a few hundred survivors left. These hundreds encountered the Nexus and nothing was the same.
"Rescued" by the Enterprise-B, a handful of El-Aurians were ripped from paradise and harshly returned to "reality". Macen recovered from the shock of these events by enlisting in Starfleet. His goal was to prevent such incidents from occurring in the Alpha Quadrant.
Macen's Starfleet career began sedately enough until he had an encounter as a junior officer with the Orion Syndicate. Macen ran a sting operation that resulted in the capture and arrests of dozens of Syndicate operatives. This garnered the attention of Starfleet Intelligence.
Macen began at Starfleet Intelligence as an analyst. His accuracy and clear, poignant delivery earned him praise and gained him more official notice. When the Federation first encountered the Cardassians, Macen was sent on a fact finding mission. The mission was a near disaster; the ship and crew Macen had travelled with were engaged and almost destroyed. Fortunately, the captain was canny and outmanoeuvred the Cardassians. Macen's insights into the Cardassian mentality were Starfleet's first in-depth glimpse into the mind of a potential enemy.
Macen served on the front lines of the Cardassian border throughout the length of the Border Wars. This association gave Macen a strong affinity for the local colonists as well as an excellent network of reliable sources. These assets came into play when Macen was assigned to infiltrate the Maquis in the newly created Demilitarised Zone between the Cardassian Union and the Federation. The Maquis were a band of self-proclaimed freedom fighters labelled as terrorists by the respective governments involved with the DMZ.
Macen had a surprise in store for Starfleet. He didn't intend to betray the Maquis by spying on them neither did he intend to betray Starfleet by abandoning his duty. Working alongside Ro Laren, Macen proceeded to submit reports on the noblest aspects of the Maquis while utilising his security clearance to access information that allowed Ro's cell to evade capture. Meanwhile, Macen assembled an intelligence gathering unit that was the rival of anything Starfleet could have fielded.
This was where Macen met T'Kir. Ro had foisted her off on him, unwilling to cope with the young Vulcan's increasing mental instability. It was a good move as it turned out. Surprisingly, she was one of the quadrant's premier hackers.
The rebellion continued unabated until the Jem'Hadar arrived. The Dominion bred troops reinforced the Cardassians and together they set out to eliminate the Maquis. Ro's cell was one of the few to escape the slaughter. Macen surrendered his ship and his crew to the Federation authorities with the promise of fair hearings and commuted sentences for all. Macen, on the other hand, returned to Starfleet's fold.
Throughout the Dominion War, Macen served as the Intelligence officer for a commando unit. This is where he met Daggit. Their unit served behind enemy lines for over 98% of their missions. Macen earned the respect of the commandoes by accompanying them to the battlefield and fighting alongside them when they allowed it.
The war's conclusion found Macen between assignments. This condition swiftly ended when he was called upon to investigate rumours of a gulag containing political dissidents from the Federation. Macen was reunited with Lisea Danan and T'Kir from his old Maquis intelligence unit and given a prototype ship and a brand new crew. Kort and Grace ranked amongst the crew. The mission proved the existence of the gulag and steps were taken to shut it down forever.
Because of this mission, the SID was born. Macen was allowed to assemble a new crew that included Daggit, Kort, and Grace, and introduced Hal Dracas, for his old Maquis ship. The crew set sail to investigate the disappearance of a starship near Andergani territory. Pirates proved to be the culpable party. Only these pirates proved to be renegade Starfleet officers.
Macen's ship was destroyed and his chief engineer was taken captive. The surviving members of Macen's crew were recovered intact and he deployed several investigative teams to track these pirates down. Once found, Macen led a squadron of Defiant-class ships in to deal with the pirates.
Afterwards, Macen was charged with an illegal use of lethal force. The Board of Inquiry offered Macen a deal: take a reduction in rank and retirement or face a court martial. Admiral Drake, the Director of the SID, assured Macen that retirement into the Starfleet Reserves would not affect his status as an agent. It would, in fact, enhance it.
As irregulars, Macen and his people possessed a degree of flexibility and deniability that was denied them as official operatives. Under this status, the team handled scores of assignments in the three years they had before being terminated. Business had been brisk from the outset of Outbound Ventures diversifying their contracts. The team had faced many challenges but none like those in the SID days.
It was that lack of imminent crisis that Macen found the hardest to deal with. Although diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, decades of daily, life threatening situations had left Macen a bit of a thrill seeker. He'd often place himself in danger even though it wasn't absolutely necessary. This tendency, combined with the PTSD, made him prone to be more reactive than always required. Macen reacted to threats, real or perceived, and reacted in a violent manner when he did.
Under Starfleet regulations, Macen should have been remanded for psychotherapy years before. His talents, however, were required for the various wars and tasks he was assigned to, so he remained untreated. As far as Macen was concerned, there was no reason for treatment as of yet. He was functional and could still contribute to the success of a mission. That was good enough for him.
Macen coped with the loss of his status as an intelligence agent for Starfleet by focusing on the good things in his life. T'Kir ranked first and foremost amongst those. They'd been associated with each other for twelve years. Two of those years had been solely by vidcomm but they'd retained some measure of communication at least. They'd been dating for five years and engaged for three. Their wedding date was almost upon them and Macen was anxiously looking forward to that day.
Macen moved forward to the four men and one woman awaiting them as T'Kir set the Mule, and the cargo, down. She released the clamps after the cargo was squarely on the ground. She vaulted out of the Mule and Rool and Drinkwater had to each suppress gasps.
T'Kir only stood in at 1.72 metres but she was imposing nonetheless, particularly to people only used to seeing Romulans and Rigellians express emotions, not Vulcans. What most sentients accomplished with a glare, T'Kir nailed with a smile. And she was beaming manically now.
Her attire was also startling for those used to typical Vulcans. Gone were the robes or tunic and trousers. T'Kir was bedecked in black leather pants and boots, her utility belt/holster rig, and a blood red tank top. Over this she wore a black leather duster.
T'Kir's features were exquisite. She possessed a heart-shaped face dominated by high cheekbones and bee-stung lips. Her vivid, crystalline blue eyes and her slightly upturned nose balanced her face. Added to this was her delicately pointed ears and her over the shoulder, wind-tossed raven hair.
If the mining officials thought she looked wild now, they should have met her twelve, or even six years before. T'Kir had been born and raised on the planet Shial. Situated near the Cardassian border, the planet was populated with Vulcan dissidents and Romulan defectors. It was the world where Vulcans went to express their feelings. It had been turned over to the Cardassians upon the finalisation of the DMZ borders.
The Cardassians wasted no time in launching an assault on the colony. They spared no one. The only survivors were those that were off-world at the time. T'Kir fell into this category. She was away at school when she received word of the massacre. She arranged transport and returned to the devastated colony.
T'Kir's entire family was dead. Her Vulcan kin disavowed her because of her emotionalism. She learned of the Maquis and she joined up. She was recruited into the cell on Ronara Prime, the same cell Ro Laren would eventually lead.
The trauma of her family's annihilation did more than set T'Kir on an unexpected path; it unleashed her latent telepathic potential. T'Kir went beyond the touch telepathy common amongst Vulcans. She became a true "reader", able to detect and decipher thoughts at a distance. The problem was that she had no training in how to block the thoughts she was receiving. The constant mental pressure began to manifest itself in erratic behaviour. Her very sanity was questioned.
Only T'Kir's skills with cybernetic systems and computer networks kept her from being cast out of the Maquis. As it was, Ro banished her to Macen's keeping. T'Kir found herself unable to read Macen's mind. He swiftly became her anchor to the world. Although Macen was involved with Lisea Danan at that time, he saw great potential in T'Kir and he was attracted to her.
T'Kir happily served beside Macen until the Dominion joined with the Cardassians and the hunt was on. The intense pressure of scores of her comrades-in-arms dying truly unhinged T'Kir. When Macen announced his intention to surrender to the Federation, T'Kir stabbed him with her stepfather's honour blade. She was sedated and restrained until she could be transferred to the USS Vulcan's Forge.
T'Kir was transported by a medical courier to Earth where she was admitted to the Andes Psychiatric Institute, a high security facility for treating the criminally insane. Despite the war, Macen kept tabs on T'Kir and her treatment. When the war was over and he needed and Operations officer for the gulag mission, he broke T'Kir out of the Institute. During the mission, he gave her an herbal remedy he'd found recommended in ancient Vulcan texts he'd studied when he had spare moments during the war and Maquis rebellion.
The herbal remedy dampened T'Kir's telepathic abilities to a point where she could control them. Her behaviour and affect gradually improved as the residual build-up of the herb increased. She'd progressed from a daily dose to a weekly dose with no signs of digression in sight.
During the Andergani operation, T'Kir confronted her feelings towards Macen and came to the realisation that with Danan now out of the way, she'd wait however long it took to snag Macen. Danan, herself, recommended that very course of action. Fortunately, it didn't take Macen long to come to a similar decision regarding his long stifled feelings. They'd been together ever since.
They'd become inseparable, in fact. Even when they were physically apart, they were connected through a permanent telepathic rapport. No one begrudged them their unnatural unity. It calmed them both. Macen was more stable and T'Kir was less capricious.
T'Kir was nearly vibrating in anticipation of the wedding. She'd been planning it for a year now and it was set to occur in a matter of days. She almost wished the raiders would show so she could shoot something and feel better from the release of adrenalin.
"So, now what?" T'Kir asked Macen.
"That all depends on these fine gentlemen." Macen replied, "I assume one of you is Rool and the other is Drinkwater?"
"I'm Franjean Rool." the shorter and squatter of the pair replied and clutched "his" lapels, "And as you may have noticed, I come from an androgynous species."
"And I'm Drinkwater." he, at least, held out his hand.
Macen accepted Drinkwater's proffered hand and shook it firmly, "Here's your payroll, gentlebeings. Our trip in was smooth." T'Kir snorted at that but Macen ignored her and continued unabated, "Perhaps your pirates will disappoint us all and stay home today."
Screams and the sound of badly tuned repulsorlifts erupted further down the street. The rolling sounds rapidly approached Macen and T'Kir's position.
Chagrined, Macen amended his last statement, "Or perhaps they'll join us after all." He turned to offer instructions to the mine officials and their security contingent. He was only partially surprised to find that they'd disappeared.
He looked over at T'Kir and rolled his eyes, "Well, I suppose we're on our own."
"When haven't we been?" she inquired.
Too true, he thought. The levibike riders had ridden up to their position and set their bikes into hover mode. One particularly nasty looking individual sat out in front of the others. His multi-scarred faced broke into a broken toothed leer.
"You must be the new 'security specialists'."
Macen looked around then faced the pirate, "I guess we must be it. I suppose you must be the leader of this motley crew?"
The pirate cackled, "That I am, son. They may not look like much but they do in a pinch."
"You'd better hope so." Macen said flatly.
The pirate captain shifted in his seat and shook his head, "You got more balls than brains, boy. I don't where you came from or what they taught you there, but your `rithmetic skills need some polishin'. I got nine to your two. I figure that gives me what you might call a 'tactical advantage'."
"And here I assumed it would get you a hole in your head." Macen retorted in that same flat tone. The pirate chieftain looked puzzled for a moment then a particle beam pulse bolt caught him in the side of the head. He fell off his levibike, a burn mark seared into his temple.
Macen's right hand tore his phaser out of its holster and he gunned down the closest raider. T'Kir already had her phaser pistol in her left hand and had levelled the first corsair to react to the opening firefight. Macen lunged forward and caught T'Kir. They dove behind the Mule as disruptor fire rained down on their last position.
Another pulse blast rained down from on high and dropped another pirate. Then another. A third rider gunned his engine and tried to leave town. Rab Daggit rose from his prone position on the rooftops overhead and steadied himself on one knee. He switched his pulse rifle from single fire to rapid fire. He pulled the trigger and released a volley of phaser fire into the fleeing pirate. The three remaining criminals spread out and began shooting at anything that moved.
"Investigators, this is Inspector One. Remember, we need at least one alive." Macen said into his earpiece mike.
"Roger that." Daggit replied, "Inspector One, this is Inspector Two. I have no shots. I am repositioning now."
"Roger, Inspector Two, happy hunting. Inspector Three, ready for some action?"
"About damn time." Radil's voice growled back.
"Careful Jenrya. They're twitchy." Macen advised.
"Good."
Radil exited the tavern that she'd entered through the rear entrance. She carried a portable phaser cannon. It was a long barrelled Type III phaser bank. It possessed a butterfly handle with trigger and a foregrip to balance and elevate or plunge the cannon. It was mounted on a hinged belt and supported by straps running across the chest and over both shoulders. Two power cells were worn on the back, one active and the other a reserve. Radil wore sensor glasses to sight the cannon. Its sights appeared as a targeting brace in her vision.
One of the pirates saw Radil striding up the sidewalk lugging the cannon and he swiftly turned to engage her. Radil fired twice. The second shot proved unnecessary since the first caught him in the chest and knocked him flat. The second shot just served to alert his closest companion as it destroyed a section of the wall it struck. This raider saw Radil coming and ran out into the street. T'Kir saw him and shot him.
"I said wound one!" Macen snarled and rose from his position behind the Mule. The last surviving pirate saw this and began to take aim at Macen. T'Kir opened her mouth to cry out in protest but never got a sound out.
Macen shot the levibike the pirate was hiding behind. The shower of sparks near his face startled him and he leapt clear of the bike. Macen shot him in the leg and he went down. Macen walked over to the downed pirate and kicked his weapon away from him.
"Was that really so difficult?" Macen asked mildly as Radil and T'Kir walked and ran up to his position. T'Kir punched him in the shoulder.
"What?" he protested.
"You insufferable ass!" T'Kir yelled, "We're getting married in four days. Four frinxing days! And now you decide to have a death wish?"
"I wasn't in any real danger…" Macen gauged the anger behind her stare and amended his statement, "All right, I was in danger, but it was an acceptable risk."
"Brin, I'm as much of a risk taker as you, riskier maybe. But for Elements sake, don't get killed on the eve of my wedding. Except in very rare cases, Vulcans and Romulans marry once. I'd like to get my once."
Macen looked contrite, "I'm sorry. I should've realised."
"Yes." T'Kir agreed with a grin, "You should've."
He shook his head and broke into a wry grin. Radil interrupted his next thought, "There a round, little man headed for us."
"Try 'person'. Man is an inappropriate label." Macen warned.
"What the hell does that mean?" Radil demanded. T'Kir whispered into her ear and Radil's expression became one of surprise, "Then how do they…?"
T'Kir shrugged.
"Prophets help us," Radil muttered, "now I've heard of everything."
A pulse blast sailed by and everyone spun around to face the new threat. Instead, they faced Daggit as he strolled up the street towards them.
"Somebody better start minding the prisoner." he advised. The others all looked and saw their prisoner sitting before a slagged disruptor, blowing on his fingers.
"Good save, Rab." Macen congratulated the former commando.
"Captain Macen!" Rool called out and trotted over, "Congratulations! You've broken these pirates' backs."
"I hardly think so." Macen replied, "In fact, I think the fun has just begun." Macen held up a finger to silence Rool and began speaking to Riker over the comm channel, "Tom, have you been monitoring?"
"Yes, we have." Riker affirmed, "We can confirm that T'Kir's right, you are insufferable at times and that you were right, the pirates have a ship. She just passed overhead and is making to break orbit. We're heading up now to pursue them."
"Good luck and happy hunting." Macen replied then turned to Rool as the Solstice lifted off in the distance, "There are still pirates making to break orbit. My ship and crew have lifted off to deal with them."
"Don't they need you?" Rool sputtered.
"They'll manage." Macen assured him, "My XO is a better ship driver than I am."
"But…?"
Macen patted Rool's shoulder, "Come now. We're about to find out the magic question: are these independent operators or are they aligned with a larger syndicate?"
T'Kir cracked her knuckles and knelt beside the man, "Don't worry, this is going to hurt…a lot."
The pirate began to scream.