16

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or its related properties. All such rights and considerations belong to CBS/Paramount.

This is the tenth installment of the Special Investigations Division. I hope you enjoy for more is on the way.


The George Kelly shuddered as multiple phaser wounds scored her hull. On the bridge, the surviving crewmen were desperately struggling to keep the ship alive. The centre of this effort was the Kelly's CO, Tom Riker.

"Engineering when can you give me shields?" Riker demanded into the intercom.

"When hell freezes over." Came the engineer's terse reply, "We just lost auxiliary power. That means we've lost weapons. All we have is the batteries. Captain, we're dead in space."

"No!" Riker snarled, "Restore auxiliary power and get me some phaser power."

"Captain," came a calmer voice, that of the ship's XO. She approached Riker gently, "We're outnumbered and outgunned. We've done all we can. Now its time to think of the crew."

"The crew wants to fight." Riker protested.

"Sir, the crew wants to live." she argued, "Which isn't going to happen if we make a false stand. Order a ship wide evacuation and scuttle the ship."

Riker looked at her as though she were mad. Another phaser strike brought down sections of the bridge's "ceiling". Fortunately no one was underneath when the support strut collapsed. Riker shook his head.

He toggled the intercom, "All hands abandon ship. XO, help me activate the scuttling charges."

"If the computer still works." she muttered.

It turned out that it did and the two officers easily activated the destruct sequence.

"Better get to your escape pod." Riker suggested.

"I'll go when you do," she countered.

Riker took one last look at his first legitimate command. It was in pieces and on fire. It needed to be abandoned. He ejected the ship's log then followed his XO to the escape pods. They easily fit together in the pod and she keyed the activation sequence. The pod's hatch closed and then it lurched away from the mothership. Gravity faded and the pair had to strap into crash harnesses.

"I hate flying these things." The XO admitted.

"Never had the opportunity before." Riker admitted.

"Lucky you." the XO deftly piloted the pod a safe distance from the imminently exploding ship and waited with a cluster of other pods. The raiders were breaking off, seeing that the crew had abandoned ship. A shuttle dispatched by the raider's mothership approached one of the Kelly's docking collars. It established a hard dock when the Kelly began to explode. The shuttle was destroyed as the saucer section erupted in a miasma of destruction. Within minutes, the Newton-class ship no longer existed.

Riker watched this all and sunk his head against the escape pod's viewport. The XO offered consoling words but they fell on deaf years. The raiders came about and went to prey on the convoy the Kelly had been protecting. His failure was complete.


Hal Dracas showed his lover Kiv Rever around his flat in Earth's famed Soho District.

"How can you afford this?" Rever asked, "And don't give me any crap about the Federation being a moneyless economy. Money still talks and this place practically screams it."

"I was well paid while I was with Outbound Ventures. My credit listing as a Starfleet officer will barely cover the uptake but who needs non-replicated food, right?"

"Wait a minute, you want to run that by me again?"

"This is ours. You return to Earth every three weeks. I work three-week shifts and get a week off. The beauty of being a Master Chief in a shipyard is that I get to set my own schedule. We can take our week off together."

"Wait a minute, you quit Outbound Ventures and rejoined Starfleet?" Rever asked in a stunned voice.

"Yes," Dracas confirmed, "I've been on medical leave for the last three months getting used to my biosynthetics. The optional time-date display in the eye took some getting used to put its proving pretty handy. You call it up and presto you know what day it is and what time it is for any time zone you're in."

"Oh god, how could you do this?" Rever wailed.

"I did it for us." Dracas confessed, "Well I did it for me but you were an important part of the equation."

"Hal," Rever sighed, "You didn't know this yet but Solarian Security Systems put me on retainer to learn all I could about Outbound Ventures. I figured since my boyfriend worked for them, I'd get all sorts of info during our more intimate moments."

The Trill ran his hands through his hair and fretted, "I already spent their deposit. I have no idea how I'm going to repay them."

"I…" Dracas hesitated, "I could give you all the publicly available information as well as insights intro the ships and crews. Nothing confidential but something beyond what's offered in the brochures. Of course my info is three months out of date but I've still got ties with the company. I'm sure I could catch you up on the latest events and gossip."

"Hal, you're a lifesaver!" Rever beamed.

"So what do you think of my plans for this apartment?" Dracas asked.

"I think it's perfect." Rever replied, "I think you're perfect."

"I try." Dracas joked.

"Have I told you how much I missed you?"

"No," Dracas said theatrically, "you haven't."

"Let's rectify that situation."


Brin Macen and T'Kir slowly danced together. It was a simple four-step routine but they were mostly swaying against each other. They were located in a boarding house in Mackenzie, Barrinor's northernmost settled state. T'Kir unconventionally wore a thick linen dress. Macen wore a sweater and jeans. The rest of the patrons had retired long ago, allowing the couple their privacy.

Macen stood at 1.84 metres. He was red haired with a moustache and goatee. His features were unremarkable and aided in his chosen profession as an intelligence officer. His one stand out features was his blue eyes that shifted colour with whatever shade he wore. Recent years of intensive workouts had produced a lean and muscular body.

T'Kir was a Vulcan, with the delicately upswept ears that implied. She wore her raven hair below her collarbone. She generally pinned it back to reveal her ears. Her sapphire blue eyes captured the attention of all who gazed upon her. These were coupled by a pale olive complexion that was the envy of most of Earth's natives. Her upturned nose and full, "bee stung" lips completed her look. She stood at 1,72 metres and possessed a slender, voluptuous body with the musculature born of being raised on a high gravity world.

Macen's comm badge, located on their dining table, began chiming.

"No." T'Kir protested, "You promised me a romantic week-end getaway. My week-end lasts for another four hours."

"I told the office to only call me in case of an emergency."

"Who's even in the office this late at night?"

"Time differential, it's only seven in the evening there."

"Tell them to go home, they're ruining my perfect week-end."

Macen tapped the badge, "Macen here."

"Brin, thank god." Christine Pike, the General Business Manager of Outbound Ventures spoke over the line, "We've got a situation."

"I assumed as much Christine." Macen replied dryly, "Why don't you run it by me."

"We've lost the George Kelly. She abandoned ship and scuttled."

"What about the crew?"

"Picked up by the merchant freighters they were supposed to be defending."

"And Riker?"

"Alive. He's already filed a preliminary report. Superior numbers and firepower overwhelmed them. The ship's log was recovered intact. It can be reviewed once it's returned to the company labs."

"We'll be flying back tomorrow. Keep me posted to any changing developments."

"The client's impressed. They say that even though their freighters were hit, the Kelly's tenacity has proven to them that we're the company to contract with on a permanent basis."

"Well, at least something good came out of this. Is there a casualty list?"

"Too early to tell. The survivors are spread out among six freighters."

"Understood. Macen out."

Macen turned to T'Kir, "I suppose you overheard everything?"

She shrugged, "It's the ears. They pick up on everything."

"Everything your telepathy misses, that is."

"No fair. You know I can't read you unless you let me."

"So, you want to finish our dance?"

"I thought we'd be packing up and rushing off for Outbound Ventures headquarters."

Macen shrugged, "Not much we could do there, and our flight isn't booked until morning. I say we finish our last evening her with panache."

"Anything t'get your arms wrapped around me again." T'Kir admitted.

"Your wish is my command." Macen bowed.

"Don't push it too far." T'Kir warned, "I could get used t'this."


One of Outbound Ventures; mainstay contracts came from Starfleet's Special Investigations Division. Macen's ship, the Obsidian, and crew were the designated contractors. Macen's senior staff also comprised the SID Investigative Team. As Macen and T'Kir arrived at Outbound Ventures, the rest of the crew was assembled there.

Surprisingly, it was Hannah Grace that first approached the couple to express concern for Tom Riker. Before Grace's "outing" as a Kelvan, Grace had altered Riker's memory. Once that had been revealed to him, there had been bad blood between them. Now she'd been stripped of her Kelvan technology and was "merely" a human woman…with enhanced hand/eye co-ordination, strength and memory.

She was still rebuilding her relationship with the crew. Her earlier attempt to hold them hostage and hijack the ship had almost been forgotten by some and inched ever so much closer to forgiveness amongst the rest. Her natural affability went a long way in her efforts at regaining trust.

The blonde with huge brown eyes would never be described as beautiful, cute yes, she was running out of her ears with cute. Over the last four years, Grace had learned to parlay her looks and to entice members of the opposite sex into relationships. So far none of them had lasted beyond a few months but her taste in men was becoming more selective. Perhaps the next one would be the one to go the distance.

Daggit and Parva made up the next couple to await news. Rab Daggit was an Angosian super soldier, physiologically and psychologically conditioned for combat. His body was a rippling mass of muscle that should have been carved out of marble. Parva was an ex-Orion slave girl, with all the baggage that implied. Having gone from being a sex toy to a respected engineer had been the major accomplishment in her life.

Daggit looked as though he were hewn from stone. Parva could have been a runway model on any of a dozen urbane worlds. Her one foible was bleaching a strand of her hair platinum blonde. Theirs was a special relationship with many allowances.

Radil and Kort came up next. There's was a volatile relationship, always off and on. Judging from their relative distance from each other now was an "off" phase. Radil Jenrya was a Bajoran who'd been a mercenary in the employ of the Orion Syndicate. Accidentally "recruited" by Daggit, Radil was left with a bounty on her head.

Opting that joining the SID was better than facing every bounty hunter in the quadrant, Radil through in her lot with the motley Investigative Team. She now served as the Chief of Security aboard Macen's ship, the Obsidian.

Kort was a Klingon physician. It had taken him decades, and a battle with alcoholism, to accept his role. Now he was a surprising source of sage advice. Still a warrior at heart, Kort revelled in away missions.

Last was Lisea Danan. The Trill scientist often seemed the odd man out in the team. Although her skills, when utilised, proved invaluable. The crew's latest mission to uncover a money laundering scheme had been solved through Danan's insights. The apprehension of the ringleader had been comical.

The minor criminal had threatened Macen. Macen calmly walked up very close to the ringleader and spoke in hushed tones.

"Can you hear me? Good. I've faced off against Daveed B'nner, the Orion Syndicates Don for the Alpha Quadrant. What makes you think I'll even sweat a threat from a gnat like you?" The ringleader had been taken away, bawling like a small child.

Of anyone on the team, Danan had grown the closest to Riker. She'd been a constant source of comfort after they death of his fiancé, Jamie Kirk. Since then they'd discussed his hopes and aspirations towards his gaining his own command. She'd received her last letter from him a week before the incident.

Macen and T'Kir had received a padd via a courier service before board their flight back to the southern climes of Barrinor City. T'Kir had shed her linens for a short tank top, Capri pants and sandals. All of her tattoos were in full glory, drawing stares from her crewmates.

Macen was in his usual "uniform". Black cargo pants, black combat boots. A holster/utility belt was worn upon the waist. A charcoal grey tee shirt and his comm badge affixed to his holster.

The dress code aboard the Obsidian was fairly lax. Crewmen could wear what they wanted. It just so happened that the Engineering, Science, and Medical crew preferred colour coded coveralls. That left the Investigative team free to wear what they wanted.

Security wore the M.A.C.O. uniform of the Earth Starfleet. Daggit had shifted to the Starfleet battledress uniform of the 2280's to the 2340's. The rest, like Macen, had found a particular niche to become their individualised uniform. Then there was T'Kir, who wore what she wanted on any given day.

The one inviolate rule was that the Investigative team go armed at all times. The holsters contained surplus Bajoran Militia phasers and the utility belts contained surplus Bajoran tricorders. Since Bajor's alliance with the Federation and eventual admission, the quality of their military equipment now rivalled Starfleet's.

"All I can tell you," Macen raised his voice to be heard over the clamour "is that Tom, and the bulk of the Kelly's crew are alive and well. They're currently on Mephistos VII and are booking passage back to Barrinor. Since passenger slots are at a premium on a freighter, it's taking some time to secure passage for the crew. Tom's chartering several shuttles but even that won't solve the problems."

"I didn't realise the operating budget of the George Kelly was so large." Daggit remarked.

"It isn't." Macen explained, "Outbound Ventures is covering these costs as well as any medical expenses. We take care of our own people. Never forget that."

There was a rustle of satisfaction at that and Macen continued, "It'll take at least a week for the first of the survivors to reach here. I suggest you enjoy what's left of your leave time and come back in a week, when there's more news."

There were nods of assent and the crowd dispersed. T'Kir gave Macen a wry smile, "Everyone gets leave but us?"

"We have to authorise all these funds transfers, then we're free." he assured her.

"Good, I want t'do some shopping." T'Kir missed Macen's eye roll.


They'd almost finished with their accounting when Christine Pike called again, this time wearing her Special Investigations Division liaison hat, "Sorry guys but Admiral Drake is on the line."

"Patch her through." Macen almost kept the disappointment from his voice.

Amanda Drake appeared on the screen, the living embodiment of her younger sister, the Obsidian's XO, "Hello Brin, T'Kir, I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time?"

"Actually, you have. We've just received word of the destruction of the George Kelly."

"Wasn't that Riker's ship?"

Macen nodded and Drake sighed, "He'll be taking it hard. Its always tough too lose a command but it's especially hard after just assuming the top job."

"I'll give him you condolences, Amanda." Macen assured her, "Now I'm sure this isn't a social call, what's up?"

"Have you ever heard of Harbinger?"

"Not outside of mythological circles."

"This would be in archaeological circles. Harbinger is a fringe world inside the former Iconian Empire."

That surprised Macen, "What does this have to do with the SID?"

"Harbinger is clearly on our side of the Neutral Zone, unlike the Iconian core worlds. Two days ago, the dig's team leader reported a significant find. Today a Romulan Warbird, claiming freedom of scientific inquiry as due our treaty stipulations, made orbit around Harbinger and began beaming down an archaeological team of their own."

Drake paused then added, "The team is under the command of Commander P'ris."

Macen wore a wry grin, "Everyone's favourite Tal Shiar agent. An archaeological dig seems an odd place to find her."

"Which is why I want you there. With your background on history, sociology and archaeology, you might even prove useful to the dig."

"Gee, thanks."

"So, when can you set out?"

Macen shook his head, "Not until Riker is debriefed."

"When's he coming in?"

"Inside of a week."

Drake looked nonplussed, "A week? A week. Oh, hell. I suppose the Romulans can't crack a 90,000 years old mystery in a week. Get Riker back and then get underway."

"You've got it." Macen replied cheerily and the connection went dead.


Riker boarded the shuttle. He'd been the last to leave. He'd made certain all of his people were situated first. As he walked up the passenger aisle, he patted a shoulder here, squeezed a hand there. He eventually plopped down next to Karisma Ko'rentz, his XO.

"Rough coupla days, eh Skip?"

"I've had better." Riker leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"I've been aboard three ships that have been lost. You handled yourself better than most. My first skipper just sat around blathering to himself in ancient Vulcan." Ko'rentz relayed, "Where in the hell he'd learned ancient Vulcan, no one could figure out."

"I also have to say Outbound Ventures is treating us like royalty." she opined, "Solarian Security Systems would have left us hanging out to dry."

"Yeah, Brin is being really generous." Riker commented, "But he usually is."


With only a day remaining to the first arrivals from the Kelly, the Obsidian's Investigative team was rediscovering an old sport: two person beach volleyball. So far, after beating the initial court champions, Macen and T'Kir were taking all comers.

Kort and Radil had already been sent to the sideline. Shannon Forger and Grace had likewise been ousted off the sand. Danan was content to sit under her sunbonnet and watch. She'd recently reverted her hair to its natural chestnut colour, accentuating her species' body spots.

Now it was up to Daggit and Parva to salvage the dignity of the crew. Admittedly, there'd been cause for distraction early on with T'Kir's bikini revealing all of her body art. Macen's shirtless condition revealed the Seeker of Truth sigil etched into his right shoulder blade. Daggit wore a Speedo and Parva wore strings with gland problems. Distractions were abounding. The assembling crowd had thrilled at the earlier action and sensed an oncoming clash of titans.

Macen had first serve. His serve sailed mere millimetres above the net. Daggit scooped low and returned the ball to the other half of the court. T'Kir caught the ball with her forearms. Macen set the ball and T'Kir vaulted for a spike directly into Parva's face. Parva picked herself up out if the sand with an expression that promised vengeance.

Daggit and Parva gained control of the ball on the next volley. A point followed, followed by another. A turnover came next, restoring control to T'Kir. T'Kir varied between wicked cuts and spins and straight on powerhouse serves millimetres above the net.

Grace and Forger saddled up to Danan, Grace leaned over and asked, "Whom are you calling to win?"

"Brin and T'Kir."

"They've three games under their belt. Daggit and Parva are fresh. Besides that, Parva's from a high grav world and Daggit's built like a Greek god." Forger protested.

"You're forgetting that T'Kir's also from a higher gravity world. Brin's musculature while not as bulky as Rab's is leaner and designed for endurance. The most important contest, however, is being played out in the mind. Notice that neither Macen nor T'Kir have spoken once during these matches yet their movements are uncannily precise and measured "

"I'll be damned." Forger suddenly grasped it, "They're using telepathy to plan their attacks."

"To plan every aspect of their game without having to give any of it away." Danan allowed herself a small smile, "One advantage of an empath marrying a telepath I suppose."

"Why does T'Kir have a tattoo of the Romulan's Imperial sigil, the bird holding the two worlds, on her lower back?"

"I'd guess that it, like the Vulcan IDIC on her arm signifies that she's from two worlds." Danan answered, "I think you can guess the significance of the Maquis Command emblem on her ankle."

"Not to get too nosy…" Grace began.

"Yes, you are." Danan replied sagely.

"When you two were…y'know, together, did he have that symbol on his back?"

Danan nodded, "Yes, he did."

"Did he explain its significance?"

Danan pondered that for a moment and finally replied with, "He said the explanation would be far more perilous than the question."

"Do you think he's explaining it to T'Kir."

"I have no idea." Danan replied with a pang of regret.

The game was settling into a grudge match. Macen and T'Kir won the first set. Daggit and Parva took the second. The third, and final, match had reached game point several times but had been halted by forced and unforced errors.

It was match point to Macen and T'Kir. It seemed fatigue had at long last begun to overcome the duo. T'Kir served. Daggit spiked it from the backfield. Macen volleyed it and immediately began to run behind T'Kir. T'Kir did a reverse set and cleared her way to the backfield. Macen tapped it over the net and Parva, expecting a spike, was too far back to intercept the ball. The game, at long last, was over.

Both sides congratulated the other and Macen and T'Kir sat out. Daggit, Parva, Radil and Kort played again. Macen opened a bottle of nutrition and flavour infused water, as did T'Kir and they sat down on the opposite side of Danan. Forger and Grace still sat to her right.

"Some set of games." Macen said, winded. T'Kir was fine, thanks to the thinner atmosphere of her homeworld. She'd once described her first experience on an oxygen rich world as a week of being constantly drunk.

"These sceptics doubted as to whether or not you could beat the 'Greek god' and 'Parva the Warrior Princess'." Danan remarked.

"I take it you weren't among these disloyal doubters?" Macen quipped.

"It helped that I figured out your edge."

Macen grinned like a little boy and T'Kir gloated, "If you've got it, use it. We certainly thumped the lot o' you." She flashed a victorious smile at Forger and Grace.

Although the crew was used to it, most people found the thought of a passionate Vulcan disconcerting given their past and the history of their cousins, the Romulans. T'Kir herself had been born on a colony populated by free expressionist Vulcans and Romulan defectors. After its inclusion in the DMZ, the colonists had been massacred by the Cardassians, hence T'Kir's enlistment in the Maquis.

That was where she'd met Macen. Macen was a Starfleet Intelligence operative with extensive contacts in the DMZ. What Starfleet hadn't counted on was Macen's sense of loyalty towards the colonists. He became a double agent, serving both Starfleet and the Maquis.

His first act for the Maquis was assembling an Intelligence task force. T'Kir had been assigned to Macen by Ro Laren. There was an instant connection that lasted twelve years before their marriage. Since Macen was an El-Aurian, it was likely he would outlive his long-lived bride.

After the crew had finished with the volleyball, showered and changed into less revealing clothing, they separated. Daggit, Kort, Parva and Radil sought out a dom-jot parlour. The others sought out a club featuring a talented, local musician.