Realm of Souls
By Paradox761
.com/~Paradox761
(BtVS/Sailor Moon/Star Trek/Highlander, Xander/Ami)
Summary: In the wake of the events on Hardcross Station, Xander finds himself pursuing John Dallas as well as the secrets of the mysterious sword, Soul Vessel, all while trying to adjust to his new life aboard the Discovery. A mission to a primitive planet my hold the key to unlocking that mystery, but personality clashes with their new part-demon mission specialist and a chance meeting with another Immortal and a group of mercenaries may complicate things. All the while, John Dallas is planning his endgame.
Author's note: This story is a sequel to "The Last Slayerette", which can be found here - .
(1/?)
USS Discovery (Intrepid class)
Commanding Officer: Captain Ami Mizuno
First Officer: Commander Jamir Tyk
Strategic Operations Officer: Commander Xander Harris
Old Calendar Date: April 12, 2381
Location: Sector 021, Alpha Quadrant
"Game over, Dallas," Xander said. "You lose."
"Never send a vampire to do an Immortal's job," Dallas muttered. "Well then, I suppose I had better cut my losses. While we've been speaking I've uploaded a virus to the station's computer. You have approximately ten minutes before the station self destructs."
Xander's head whipped back to where Poz stood at the comm console. The Trill's voice could be heard from off screen. "I can't override, I'm locked out."
Xander turned back to Dallas. "You'll destroy the device," he said. "Why go to all this trouble just to blow it up?"
"I admit, it isn't the optimal outcome. But if I can't have it, no one will. I'll just have to accept your death as a consolation prize. Besides, I can always build another. If there's one thing that I have plenty of, it's time." He smiled with a maniacal twinkle in his eye. "Adieu."
"Computer, pause playback," Xander said. He was sitting at his work station in his quarters aboard the Discovery, watching the recording of the final events on Hardcross station for the hundredth time. Trying to find some clue, something that could lead him to Dallas. There was just something about it that he couldn't put his finger on, something that just didn't feel right. He rubbed his eyes with his hand. "This isn't getting me anywhere," he said to himself. "What do you think, Scooby? Am I missing something, or am I just losing my mind?" The ever loyal razor cat didn't bother to lift his head from where it was lying on the top of Xander's foot, he just purred.
"Computer, open personal log," Xander said. The computer beeped in acquiescence. "Begin recording." He sighed, gathering his thoughts. "It's been almost a month now since the destruction of Hardcross Station, and Starfleet Intelligence is no closer to tracking down John Dallas. After leaving DS5, he changed ships at least three times, each time booking passage under a different assumed name. The trail goes cold at a spaceport on P'lonis III, a commerce planet on the outer reaches of the Bolian sector. He could have hopped another ship after that, or maybe he's still there. Or maybe he just disappeared into thin air, I wouldn't put it past him at this point. He's been doing this for a long time, and as crazy as he is, he's good at it. He said that he could build another device, so he must have copies of all of Hardcross' data. The computer experts at SI have torn apart the quarters he stayed in on DS5, poured through the logs of all of his computer activity while he was there, but they've found no trace of a data uplink to another computer. We're just playing catch-up here, and we're not going to find him unless we get lucky, or he sticks his neck out." Xander paused, glancing over his work station at the two swords that hung on his wall. "He has to know that I'm still alive by now. So what is he doing? Biding his time? Making a plan to move against me and recover Soul Vessel? He's got me paranoid. And the worst part is, I know that's exactly what he wants." Xander paused, rubbing his forehead with his fingers and letting out a sigh.
"I'm adjusting to starship life as well as can be expected I suppose. It's a tight knit crew, and I think it's taken them a while to warm up to me. Many of the scientists onboard share Ami's distaste for becoming an errand ship for Starfleet Intelligence, and at first I think they saw me as a threat. But I'm trying to earn their trust. My job, first and foremost, is to use my position and knowledge to keep this ship safe. But Ami is too valuable an asset for SI to just ignore, and lately it seems my job is to run interference for her. I think I've succeeded in showing her and the other scientists onboard that the relationship can be a two way street. This latest mission for example, a scientific investigation to a planet that's been off limits to Federation scientists for nearly two decades, I'm the one who convinced Admiral Colgate that there could be valuable information that could be obtained and put to good use. I think that earned me a few brownie points with the blue shirts." Xander smirked. "Ami hates it when I call them that. Of course, I have to admit, I may have another motive for taking an interest in this particular mission.
"I've been thinking a lot lately about the device that Dallas and Hardcross constructed to store quickenings in Dallas' megalomaniacal attempt at godhood, the sword that I've come to call Soul Vessel. If what they said is true, it could contain something close to one thousand quickenings. The souls of all of the Immortals that Dallas has killed in the last 150 years. I can't help but wonder what it must be like for those lost souls. Are they conscious somehow, aware? Are they suffering? Discovery's best scientists have run every deep sensor scan that they can of the sword and they're still no closer to figuring out how it works. All they can discern is that there is some device in the handle that resembles a capacitor, or a transporter buffer. The quickenings could be stored there like transporter patterns. But as to a power source, or how the quickenings are attracted to the device in the first place we have no idea. Some of the engineers want to take it apart, but considering that we don't know what could happen if the device is damaged, Ami and I agreed that that was a bad idea. The quickenings could be destroyed, or worse yet they could be drawn into me. Dallas said the reaction would be a thousand times greater than a normal quickening, which would surely destroy Discovery. Dallas may believe that he can survive this and evolve into some kind of non-corporeal form, but I'm not so sure.
"There's this…innate feeling of wrongness about the whole thing. I can't really describe it, call it Immortals' instinct. Being beheaded by another Immortal and having my quickening absorbed into them is not an experience that I care to try anytime soon, but there's a natural order to it. It makes sense in a way. Being trapped inside some machine, forever in some kind of limbo, it's just wrong. And I feel like I owe it to these lost souls to make it right. I'm hoping I can find some answers on this mission, and maybe even bring them some peace. End log."
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"Captain's log, stardate 58276.8. We are currently en route to Vulcan to pick up a mission specialist for our next assignment. An old friend, Dr. Rachel Boon. We've been assigned to investigate the Jakul, a pre-warp civilization on the planet Zeta Nu V. Incidental contact was made with the Jakul seventeen years ago, at which time it was observed that they had an unusual psionic ability. Specifically, their death ritual in which visible energy can be seen leaving the body of the deceased and entering into a large stone idol. Federation scientists have been clamoring to study them ever since, however because of the Prime Directive the planet has been off limits. But thanks to the efforts of my new Strategic Operations Officer, we've been granted special permission from Starfleet Intelligence to conduct our investigation. The mission will be considered classified, which means that any direct information that we collect cannot be publicly released. However I believe that the knowledge we gain can still be used to further scientific study in fields ranging from xenobiology to anthropology.
"The Jakul have many interesting characteristics that are rare among pre-warp civilizations. Technologically, they are very primitive. They've yet to discover electricity or metallurgy. And yet, there's no xenophobia and no technophobia. They have religion, but no fundamentalism. They have knowledge of advanced mathematics, architecture, astronomy and many other sciences that would normally be considered beyond a species at their technological level. There is very little violence, and no war to speak of. They are naturally curious and adventurous. The population is centered on the Northern continent of the planet, separated into a dozen or so city states, each with a population of several thousand. The Southern continent of the planet appears to be uninhabited. Each city state contains a geographically centered area which contains the religious temples that service the city, and in the center of that, a stone idol. The origins of the idols are unknown, they appear to predate the rest of the civilization by thousands of years. No one knows who built them or when, or even why. The Jakul have incorporated these idols into their religion, and they appear to share some bond with them. But whether these idols were placed there by another species, or left behind by some other extinct culture from the planet remains unknown.
"But by far the most interesting aspect of the Jakul would have to be their unique psionic abilities. They show signs of telepathy, empathy, and even some telekinesis. The death ritual that was observed especially would seem to prove the existence of a consciousness, or at least some form of energy, that remains after the physical body is deceased. I know that Rachel has been interested in investigating the Jakul ever since she was a cadet, working on her senior thesis and serving aboard the Discovery to earn her field credits. I'm thrilled for her to be able to be a part of this mission, and I'm eager for her and Xander to meet. I know that Xander is hoping that she may be able to help him with Soul Vessel. I think that she may have a few surprises for him. End log."
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"She's part demon?"
Ami smiled. There wasn't much that could surprise Xander these days and the look on his face amused her. The pair were sitting in Ami's ready room, awaiting their arrival to the planet Vulcan. "One quarter, to be precise, on her mother's side. Her father is Betazoid."
Xander's eyes grew even wider. "I didn't realize that was possible. I mean, demons and humans have been interbreeding for thousands of years. In a way, that makes sense. All of the demons on Earth have a touch of human blood, that's how they are able to exist in our dimension in the first place. But a demon and an alien, I've never heard of it happening before."
"Well there aren't very many demons left on Earth, so I can't imagine it's too common," Ami said.
"That's true. After World War III most of the more powerful demons saw it as an apocalypse of sorts, declared victory for themselves and headed back to their own dimensions. Most demons that stayed behind didn't last long after the tech boom that followed first contact. There are only a handful of peaceful demon species still left on Earth, in small localized population centers. And vampires of course, and most of them spread to off world human colonies like ship rats. Do you know what species her mother was?"
"I forget the name," Ami said. "I remember she told me that they were from Australia, that's where she grew up with her mother."
Xander nodded. "The Draz. That makes sense, they've been interbreeding with the Aborigines for centuries. They're tribal, they live in underground colonies, and they keep to themselves mostly. Chaulk white skin, purple eyes, powerful telepaths as I recall."
This time is was Ami's turn to be surprised. "I'm impressed," she said.
"One of my first projects for SI, nearly a century ago was to rebuild the Watchers' library and transfer all the data to computer. They were concerned about what little intelligence they had regarding demons since the council had been destroyed. I practically lived in that library for almost five years. So, how exactly did her parents meet?"
"Her father is an anthropologist, in Starfleet. He was part of a team that was digging in Australia, looking for artifacts when they accidently broke through into a Draz tunnel. He was fascinated by them, especially their telepathy. He stayed with them for years, knowing that none of what he was studying about them could ever be published publicly. That's where he met Rachel's mother and fell in love with her. Rachel was raised in the colony, her father eventually returned to starship duty and she saw him only once every few months until she was thirteen. That's when he convinced her mother to bring Rachel and come live with him aboard ship. Her mother died when she was fifteen, and she stayed with her father after that until she joined Starfleet and went to the Academy. She shared her father's love for anthropology, but her dual heritage gave her a profound interest in xenobiology, specifically telepathic species. I met her when she was a cadet, she was posted to the Discovery for her field assignment. I was taken by how smart she was, and how eager she was to learn new things. And now she's one of Starfleet's leading experts in telepathy and consciousness. Just last year she was awarded a position at the Vulcan Science Academy, head of the xenobiology department. She's the first non-Vulcan to ever be given a department head position at the VSA."
"She sounds perfect for this mission," Xander said.
"No one knows more about the Jakul than her," Ami said. "She's been trying to get on that planet for years. I imagine that she'll be extremely grateful to you for making this happen."
"Just doing my job," Xander said.
"I should warn you though, she can be a bit…feisty." Ami was about to elaborate more when her combadge chirped.
"Bridge to Captain Mizuno," Commander Tyk's voice spoke over the comm channel. "We've arrived at Vulcan. The Science Academy has informed us that our guest is ready for transport. We should be in position in a few minutes."
"Understood," Ami responded. "We're on our way to the transporter room, Mizuno out." She gave Xander a smile. "Care to join me?"
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Ami and Xander arrived at the transporter room and Xander dismissed the crewman on duty, taking over his station for the moment. This was a classified mission after all and he wasn't taking any chances, not even aboard Discovery. He typed a few commands into the console before placing his hand on the riser controls and moving them up.
The transporter hummed through its cycle and a figure materialized on the platform. It was a woman in a blue Starfleet uniform with lieutenant's pips. She was thin, with curly blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail, alabaster skin and violet eyes. She smiled brightly as she stepped down off the pad and looked at Ami. "Captain Mizuno, it's so good to see you again," she said as the pair hugged.
"Rachel, it's good to see you too," Ami said. "I'm glad you could make time for us in your schedule."
"Are you kidding, for this opportunity I'd move Heaven and Earth."
"Well, let me introduce you to the man who saved you the trouble. This is my Strategic Operations Officer, Commander Xander Harris. Xander, this is Dr. Rachel Boon."
Boon's expression became much more neutral as she regarded Xander and shook his hand. "Commander," she said coldly. She turned back to Ami. "I see that Starfleet Intelligence finally forced you to accept a handler. Your very own pet spy, and I bet he's even housebroken."
Xander was stunned into silence. Ami looked a bit sheepish. "That's not exactly the way it happened, Rachel."
"My apologies Commander if I sound bitter, but I'm afraid that I have little respect for your profession," Boon continued.
"Excuse me?" Xander managed.
"SI has had me chasing my tail these last few years, giving me the runaround on approving my proposal for a duck blind mission on Zeta Nu V. It's all been rather frustrating, trying to get them to understand that the scientific discoveries to be made there are a bit more important than their cold war politicking. As if anything about the Jakul would be of use to our enemies against us. A bunch of paranoid warmongers trying to justify their own existence, sitting in a room somewhere brainstorming on what outlandish scenario is going to be the next plot to overthrow the Federation."
Xander was taken aback. This wasn't at all what he had been expecting. "I think you're over simplifying things a bit, Dr. Boon," he responded.
"No offense Commander, but you would think that. Forgive me, I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but the fact of the matter is that the only reason this mission was approved is because of some back room deal, and I'm afraid that I can't bring myself to be happy about that, regardless of the outcome."
Xander gritted his teeth. "Now wait just a minute…"
"Rachel, why don't I show you to your quarters. I'm sure you'll want a chance to review your data before the mission briefing later today," Ami said before Xander could respond.
Boon spared one more passing glance at Xander on her way out of the transporter room, the disdain that dripped from her eyes was palpable, like he was something that she had just scraped off her shoe. Ami waited until she was in the corridor before looking back at Xander. "I'm sorry," she said. "I tried to warn you, she can be…passionate about her opinions."
"To say the least," Xander replied. "To say the most, she's rude, pig-headed and insubordinate."
"That too," Ami agreed. "You know how it is, the more brilliant you are the more eccentricities people will put up with. I'll talk to her."
Xander's mouth suddenly felt very dry. "Feisty," he said, repeating Ami's earlier comment.
Ami gave him a sympathetic smile. "Feisty."
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Ami waited until the two of them were alone in the turbolift before addressing Rachel again. "Let's get one thing straight Rachel. I consider you to be a friend, but you are also a Starfleet officer, and aboard my ship I expect you to act like one. What you did in there was way over the line. Not only is Xander a personal friend of mine, he is a valuable asset to this crew. Like it or not, this is a classified mission and we need Starfleet Intelligence's cooperation to proceed with it. Regardless of your opinion of SI, I expect you to treat superior officers with due respect on this ship. Is that clear?"
Boon looked surprised at first. Then she bit her lip and looked down, looking sufficiently chastised. When Ami finished speaking she stood a little straighter and looked forward, almost standing at attention. "Yes, Sir," she said. She paused, licking her lips again nervously. "Permission to speak freely, Captain?"
"Granted."
She turned and made eye contact with Ami. "I'm sorry, I never meant to disrespect you or your command. I guess I let my frustration get the better of me."
"I understand that Rachel, I do. I still consider myself first and foremost to be a scientist, but science doesn't exist in a vacuum. What you have to understand is that because of what I am and what I know, this ship is an asset to Starfleet Intelligence, and that's a major factor as to why this mission was approved. So whatever back room deal may have taken place, it happened because of this ship's record of successful classified missions. And if you have a problem with that, then you need to let me know now and you can beam back down to Vulcan before we leave orbit."
Boon shook her head vehemently. "No problem, Captain. I'm grateful for this opportunity and I'm extremely eager to meet the Jakul and study them up close."
"I'm glad to hear that," Ami said.
The rest of the turbolift ride passed in silence. They arrived at the correct deck and Ami led the young scientist to her quarters. "Standard guest quarters," Ami said as the two of them entered the room. "I trust that it should be enough space for you. The mission briefing is at 1600. If you need anything else to prepare, access to any of our lab facilities or special computer access, just let me or Commander Tyk know and we can arrange it."
"This will be fine, Captain. Thank you." Ami nodded and turned to go when Rachel spoke again. "Captain, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"I don't mean to overstep my bounds, but I'm curious. The last time we spoke, you told me that you didn't want a SI officer as part of your crew. You didn't want to be beholden to them when it came to your everyday command decisions."
"I didn't want them breathing down my neck, those were my exact words I believe," Ami said with a smile.
"What changed your mind?"
"Xander isn't the boogie man, Rachel. He's not here to make us jump through hoops just to prove that SI is really in charge, or to look over my shoulder and question my decisions. He's here to keep this ship and her crew safe, and he takes that job very seriously. He's an old friend, as I said, and he offered himself for the position because he was looking to make a change in his life, and because he thought I could use his help. He's been with Starfleet Intelligence long enough to know how to cut through the red tape when necessary. But mostly I agreed to it because…I trust him, and I know that he trusts me. He's a good man, Rachel."
Boon nodded. "I understand, Captain," she said.
Whether or not she really did understand, Ami wasn't sure. But there wasn't anything else that she could say. "I'll see you at the briefing then," she said after a pause before turning to go.
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Xander sat at the work station in his quarters, looking over the latest intelligence reports on the region of space that the Discovery was headed for. He was confident that there wouldn't be any trouble, but he wouldn't be doing his job if he wasn't thorough. He did most of his work here in his quarters. He felt more comfortable, surrounded by his things, and Scooby of course. The truth was, he still felt very much like an outsider on this ship. And no one on the crew apart from Ami or Tyk felt the need to change that. He knew that hiding in his quarters wasn't going to make the situation any better, but he had enough on his plate he reasoned, without having to worry about what others on the ship thought of him. The whereabouts of John Dallas, the secrets of Soul Vessel, and of course the mission at hand.
But still, his frustration over his first meeting with their mission specialist, Rachel Boon, was occupying his thoughts and distracting him. He found it hard to concentrate on what he was reading. He just kept picturing her disapproving face, her contempt filled voice. He couldn't help but feel that her attitude was shared by many of the Discovery's crew, that he was some kind of SI attack dog on a choke chain, here to spy on them. How was he supposed to do his job if his own crewmates wouldn't trust him? Xander felt a headache coming on. He stopped reading, lowering his head and closing his eyes he started to rub his temples.
A few moments later, the door chime for his quarters sounded. Xander lifted his head and watched as Scooby, who had by lying on the floor near his favorite chair on the other side of his quarters did the same. The El-Aurian razor cat sniffed the air for a moment before putting his head back down. The reaction told Xander exactly who was at the door. If it had been a stranger, Scooby would have tensed. If it had been Ami at the door, he would have appeared more excited. "Come in, Tyk," Xander called out.
The door slid open and Discovery's first officer stepped it. The tall, olive-complected Trill gave Xander a smile before walking over to the living room area and sitting down in the chair next to which Scooby lay. He rubbed his bald head as he walked, a nervous habit that Xander had observed ever since he had been joined with the Tyk symbiont nearly a month before, like he was a stranger in his own body. Most newly joined Trill experienced some awkwardness in the beginning of their joining, but Jamir was handling it very well Xander thought, considering that he had undergone no training to be joined. He smiled in a way that reminded Xander very much of Romin, Tyk's previous host and Xander's long time partner as an operative with Starfleet Intelligence. He scratched Scooby's head affectionately between his horns. "Good kitty," he said. Scooby purred like a Terran housecat, which to anyone who didn't know him might have looked odd, considering that he was the size of a great dane. The razor cat had taken to Jamir much more quickly then he normally did to strangers. Xander theorized that he could somehow smell the Tyk symbiont, and therefore knew that he wasn't really a stranger after all. Not for the first time, Xander wished that he had his long time companion's nose, his instincts. He was feeling a bit lost at the moment, and he could use those instincts to find his way.
"So, I heard you met our mission specialist," Tyk said. "She's something, isn't she?"
"That's one word for it," Xander answered. "You were aboard Discovery when she was here as a cadet then?"
"I was Chief Tactical Officer then," Tyk answered. "I broke up at least two altercations in the officers' mess involving her. She was never afraid to speak her mind, no matter what anyone else thought, and no matter what their rank. I honestly thought that she was never going to make it out of the academy with that attitude, but I guess talent can get you pretty far, no matter how many feathers you ruffle. The Captain always liked her though, said that she had…what's the word…oh yeah, spunk. She said that a good scientist needed to have their feathers ruffled every once in a while, keeps them thinking outside the box."
"Yeah well, I'm not a scientist and I already know how to think outside of the box," Xander replied. He sighed loudly and shook his head. "Jesus Tyk, what the hell am I doing here? Nobody on this ship wants me here, they don't trust me, they don't respect what I do, Boon was just the first person tactless enough to say it to my face. Maybe I'm not cut out for this job. Maybe I was wrong, maybe this old leopard can't change his spots."
"To borrow a human expression, bullshit," Tyk said. "First of all, you're the intelligence officer on a science ship, that's not exactly something that anyone has been trained for. And there's probably no one more perfect for that assignment than you. No one knows the nuts and bolts of espionage in this quadrant better than you do, no one has the resources and the experience that you do. This ship is damn lucky to have you."
"Well that's not the way it feels. The circles I ran in, no one would ever think to talk to me the way that woman talked to me today. I used to be feared and respected."
"You are feared and respected. You're just not trusted or well liked."
"I'm here to do a job, not win a popularity contest."
"Translation: you have poor social skills. This is not news to me."
"Tyk, I'm serious."
"So am I. And you're not exactly helping your cause, holed up in here all the time. Of course they think you're doing something nefarious, because you act like you're hiding from them. The only time you leave your quarters is to meet with the Captain, behind closed doors, or to walk Scooby around the corridors and see how many ensigns you can make shit their pants. So if you want them to fear you, mission accomplished. But if you want them to trust you, you have to trust them. You have to show them that you're on their side. Look, I'm not saying that it's easy. No one can do what we did for ninety years without it affecting them, without having to shut off a part of your brain just so you don't go crazy. Not even an Immortal. But that doesn't mean that you can't do it. Look at it this way, you didn't always work alone when you were with SI, you worked with a lot of other operatives, many of them me. Just think of this ship as 287 new partners that you need to break in."
Xander rolled his eyes. "Good lord Tyk, if that's supposed to make me feel better you severely missed the mark." Tyk laughed at that, and pretty soon Xander was laughing too. "The difference is that at least in SI, everyone was on the same page. We all understood what the job was. But these blueshirts, they act like the harsh reality of the universe outside of their laboratories doesn't exist. And when I try to protect them, they call me a warmonger."
"I'm not saying that they don't have their heads completely up their asses, they're French kissing their colons to be sure. But you're not going to convince them that you're right by hiding from them. You want to protect them, educate them. They don't trust you, show them that they're wrong."
Xander opened his mouth and then closed it again, wrestling with a particular thought. "French kissing their colons?" he finally said.
"I adlibbed that one, you like it?"
"It's evocative, I'll give you that."
"You're not alone in this fight, Xander. You've got me and the Captain, that's something."
"That's more than something. Thanks Tyk, you're right. I guess the blueshirts aren't the only ones who've had their heads up their ass. When did you get so smart?"
"It came free with my new devastatingly good looks," Tyk said, running a hand over his bald head again.
The two old friends laughed again, and Xander found that he didn't feel quite so alone anymore.
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Xander scanned the conference room from his seat at the table as the mission team filed in and started taking their seats. Starfleet had long ago standardized the makeup of a first contact team, and this team was no different. Ami was already seated at the head of the table with Xander to her immediate right. For this mission she would serve as both contact specialist, and diplomat. The truth was, there wasn't much of a need for a diplomat in this case. Since the Jakul were pre-warp, the prime directive precluded them from signing any kind of treaty or even a non-aggression pact with them. To Xander's right sat Dr. Kydir, mathematician and theoretical physicist. The tall Vulcan sat quietly with his hands resting on the table, waiting for the meeting to begin. In contrast to his right sat Dr. Treezil, the blonde haired Denobulan anthropologist. Her natural sunny disposition and her clear excitement over the mission at hand was evident in the animated conversation that she was having with the person seated next to her, Lieutenant Keevbara sh'Dane. The young Andorian linguist was a fairly new addition to Discovery's crew, predating Xander's arrival by only three months. Still, she was a fine officer and an accomplished expert on language and communication. Across from them Dr. Kur'Woo, the taciturn Efrosian medical officer was listening and nodding as Lieutenant Graav, the boisterous Tellarite geologist spoke loudly. Sitting next to them was the only other person in the room other than Xander who wasn't wearing blue. Lieutenant Commander Kevin Brubaker was the head of Discovery's small Alien Technologies department, and thus he wore engineering gold. He was an expert in analyzing and reverse engineering alien technologies, and had done a lot of the preliminary work studying Soul Vessel, so Xander knew him pretty well. The dark haired engineer looked as uncomfortable as Xander felt, in a room full of chattering scientists. Next to him sat Lieutenant Dennan Tar, ship's counselor. The older Bajoran man seemed content with just watching the room's other occupants, observing how they interacted with each other. Xander didn't know the counselor very well, but he had heard very good things about him. Of course prior to the selection of the mission team, Xander had reviewed all of the team members' personnel files to insure that none of them could be a possible security risk. Xander's role on the team would be to head up the small security contingent that they would take down to the planet with them. Typically that job may have fallen under the prevue of the Discovery's Tactical Officer and Chief of Security, Lt. Gibson, but with Xander's own personal interest in the mission and its classified status, he managed to secure that spot for himself. The last team member was of course Dr. Rachel Boon, xenobiologist and mission specialist, who was seated across from Xander to Ami's immediate left. The two had managed to avoid direct eye contact the entire time they had been in the conference room together, but Xander could see her glancing at him often when she thought that he wasn't looking. Her demeanor seemed more reserved and curious now however than her agitated state in the transporter room. Xander didn't know quite what to make of that.
Xander turned to Ami who nodded toward him indicating for him to start the meeting. He turned back to address the room. "All right people, let's get started," he said. The room slowly quieted down. "Before we start with the briefing I would just like to remind everyone that this is a classified mission, and as such you are not to speak of it specifically to anyone outside of this room. It is important to note however that you are not to edit yourselves in any way with regards to your logs or mission reports. Those logs and reports will also be considered classified until Starfleet Intelligence reviews them and decides what portions are to be declassified. Are there any questions regarding this?"
Lt. Graav spoke up. "How can a mission of scientific discovery be classified? What I mean is, what is the point of gathering information on the Jakul if we can't share it with anyone?"
Xander expected this question, and he wasn't surprised in the least that Graav was the one who raised it. Tellarites were notoriously argumentative. Ami answered the question before Xander had the chance to.
"The data that we are hoping to gather on Zeta Nu V is going to keep Federation scientists busy for years to come and lead to discoveries in everything from physics to medicine. And what we do here now will lay the groundwork for those discoveries. I cannot overstate the importance of that. You need to trust me when I tell you that the information will end up where it needs to, it just needs to pass through the proper channels first. I know that many of you are not fond of that answer, but what you need to remember here is that any contact with the Jakul at all is in direct violation of the prime directive. We're being given tremendous leeway here."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Captain," Dr. Treezil spoke up. "But isn't the main purpose of the prime directive to keep us from interfering with the natural evolution of pre-warp species? In this case that point seems moot, firstly since incidental contact has already been made and second, since the Jakul are xenophiles and naturally curious, far from interfering with their evolution, the knowledge of life outside of their planet has only strengthened their belief system."
"Another example of Starfleet Intelligence following the letter of the law rather than the spirit," Boon said.
"We have laws for a reason," Lt. Commander Brubaker said. "We're a civilized society and people don't get to pick and choose which laws they follow and which they don't. If everyone did that we'd have chaos."
"We're not talking about everyone," Boon commented.
"So, special rules for special people, is that what you're saying?" the engineer added.
"What I'm saying is that only a fool deals in absolutes," Boon said.
"That's enough!" Ami said forcefully. "I will not let this briefing turn into a political debate. We have a job to do here, and we're going to do it professionally, without letting our personal feelings interfere, is that clear?" There were nods all around the room. She glanced at Xander and he could see the frustration in her eyes. He could tell that they were both thinking the same thing, that this so-called favor that he had done by getting this mission approved was on the verge of becoming a disaster. "Rachel, why don't you start with your presentation."
Boon nodded and stood from her chair, walking over to the large screen that sat behind the Captain. Ami turned her chair to see as she began her presentation. "The Zeta Nu system was discovered and catalogued ninety-seven years ago by a standard Starfleet survey mission. At the time, life signs were detected on the fifth planet, but since there was no sign of any advanced technology, they simply took some basic scans of the planet and moved on. It wasn't until seventeen years ago that contact with the Jakul was made, by a civilan Federation freighter, the S.S. Pennsylvania. The ship was travelling through the system when they experienced a complete engine failure. A warp core breach was imminent, so the captain ordered evacuation to the nearest M-class planet they could find. The escape pods set down just outside of a Jakul village on the Western coast of the Northern continent. They had managed a distress call before their ship was destroyed, but at the time they had no way of knowing if anyone had received it. The escape pods only had short range communications abilities, so the survivors were not very hopeful of a rescue. Out of desperation, they made contact with the Jakul.
"To their immediate surprise, the Jakul were not afraid of them or hostile toward them in any way. They welcomed the survivors, feed them, sheltered them, and showed a great curiosity in them. All of the debriefing reports from the Pennsylvania's crew tell the same story. They wanted to know more about who we were, our culture, our technology, our way of life. Not because they wanted to emulate it or because they thought we were superior to them, but because in their culture they revere the new and the unknown. Simply put, they love to learn."
"Truly fascinating," Treezil interjected. "In almost all of the primitive cultures that I've studied, there's an aversion to change, to things that are new and different. Anything that changes the paradigm of the universe as they understand it is upsetting and is usually met with fear and anger."
"It's true," Boon continued. "This is one of the things that make the Jakul so unique. We believe that it is this attitude and natural curiosity that leads to one of the other extraordinary things about them, and that's a rather advanced knowledge of science and mathematics. Technologically speaking, they aren't very advanced at all. The tools and construction materials they use are wood and stone, in some cases animal bone or sinew. They can weave fibers together to make simple cloth, and they have a primitive system of agriculture. But their understanding of the natural world around them is exceptionally good. Botany, biology, geology, astronomy, geometry, pharmacology, animal husbandry, even mechanical engineering, all far more advanced than our scales tell us they should be for their technological level.
"Even to laymen such as the crew of the Pennsylvania, it was clear that the Jakul were extraordinary. We're extremely lucky that the freighter's captain, Alton Baker, had a particular interest in documenting what he saw and experienced. As luck would have it, he had a recording device with him, and so we have visual and audio records of much of what the freighter crew experienced. Let's start simple." Boon pressed a button on the PADD she was holding and the image on the large screen behind her changed to that of a rather tall and thin looking humanoid, with ocher skin and long dark hair. His facial features looked almost human, except for a boney ridge that protruded from around his eyes. "The Jakul are humanoid and they average between two to two and a half meters in height. Their skin tones vary from deep red to charcoal gray. This is an image of an adult male, approximately twenty-four standard years old. The average lifespan is estimated between seventy and seventy-five standard years. As you can see, clothing is very utilitarian. They have the ability to tan animal hides to make leather, but the leather is used sparingly as it isn't easy to make. The tunic that he is wearing is woven from a fiber that comes from a plant that they have learned to cultivate to make clothing and blankets. You'll notice around his neck, a rather long necklace with various trinkets attached to it. Icons made of carved wood or stone, in some cases semi-precious stones. These icons can symbolize a great many things, from the wearer's status in the village, his chosen profession, information about his family, or they could symbolize great experiences that he's had in his life."
"Are the symbols carved into these icons representative of the Jakul written language," Lt. sh'Dane asked, squinting to get a closer look at the image on the screen.
"We believe so, yes," Boon answered. "There are a few more examples in the visual records, but we don't have enough of a sample to decipher and decode it. It does appear to be a symbol based language, similar to hieroglyphics or Vulcan script. We'll be making all of these records as well as any other mission data that we have available to all of your personal databases, so please feel free to acquaint yourself with the material before we arrive at the planet."
"Do they have any organized religion?" Counselor Dennan asked.
"Of a sort," Boon answered. "Though I wouldn't call it a religion as much as a…belief system. They have a system of values, morality, social mores, and these are things that they cling strongly too. However they don't worship a deity, or follow a strict dogma, or practice any sort of fundamentalism. There is a certain ritualistic side to it, however most if not all of the practices focus on community, family, bringing people together and sharing experiences. If there is one shared trait among the Jakul, it would have to be the reverence that they show to new and different experiences."
"Yes, yes, this is all very fascinating," Lt. Graav spoke up, his tone of voice indicating that he found it anything but. "But would it be possible for us to skip ahead a bit to the heart of the matter? The reason that we are all here. I doubt that Starfleet Intelligence approved this mission for us to study the Jakul culture."
Boon looked annoyed, but glanced at Ami. The Captain simply nodded to indicate that she should proceed. "Very well," she said, smiling to try and hide her irritation. "The heart of the matter, as you put it, is actually tied in to all of this. The Jakul belief system, as I said, does center mainly on values and morality, but many of its more ritualistic aspects center around this." Rachel tapped a command into her PADD and the image on the screen changed again, this time into a large stone obelisk. "Each one of the dozen or so population centers on the planet appears to be built around one of these stone spires. From what we can tell, they are millions of years old, and they weren't built by the Jakul. Thousands of years ago, primitive Jakul were drawn toward these icons, and they settled near them. They share some sort of bond with these stones, though exactly what the nature of that bond is we're not sure. The Jakul describe a comforting feeling that they receive when they are near the idol. A feeling of well-being, and a connection to something greater than themselves. They have a word for it, it doesn't really translate. They call it the Kob'ya. The crew of the Pennsylvania observed some evidence that the Jakul may be partly telepathic, so it's possible that the connection they feel is based on that somehow. None of the freighter crew were telepathic, so they couldn't say for sure. Hopefully we'll know more once we've had a chance to study one of them up close."
"And how do these obelisks incorporate into the Jakul religion?" Counselor Dennan asked.
"The Kob'ya is central to their culture, it fosters the bond that they feel not only to the universe but to each other as well. We believe that this is the central factor in the rather strange evolution of their culture. As for ritualistically, the main function of the spires however is that the Jakul believe that they function as a gateway of sorts to what they call…the Realm of Souls." Boon paused, the reverence in her voice was unmistakable. "The afterlife."
For a moment, silence seemed to fill the room like smoke. Unsurprisingly, Graav was the one who broke it. "The…afterlife," he repeated. "This is why Starfleet Intelligence has chosen to break the prime directive, to send us chasing after ghosts?"
Boon just smirked and pressed a button on her PADD. "Watch this," she said.
The main screen changed to a video feed that looked to be taken from a small handheld device. Many voices could be heard talking over each other. There was a small group of humans surrounding the person filming, and in the distance a large group of Jakul could be seen. After a few moments, the voices all became silent as the video focused on a procession of Jakul, carrying a body on a wooden plank. The body was dressed all in white. The video followed the group until they reached a stone altar, where they set the body down. The video then panned up to show that the altar was located at the base of a stone obelisk, much like the one in the image that Boon has showed earlier. All but one of the Jakul stepped away from the alter, they bowed their heads as they moved. At that moment the video pulled out to show hundreds of Jakul gathered around the obelisk, all of them on their knees staring up at the great stone idol. The single remaining Jakul kneeled directly in front of the altar, he bowed his head and he placed his hands on the front of the stone. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but strong. The words were alien, the universal translator apparently unable to make any sense of them. After a few moments, he stopped and raised his head. A ball of light emerged from the chest of the deceased man. Somewhere off camera somebody gasped. The ball of energy floated up into the air, circling around the stone spire, until about halfway up when it disappeared inside of it. For a second, the entire obelisk seemed to glow, and then it faded. The gathered crowd burst into cheers. A few moments later, they lifted the corpse into the air again and carried it off. Somewhere off camera, presumably Captain Baker said, "That was incredible. I have never seen anything like that in my entire life." There was a plethora of muddled agreements, and then the video ended.
"What you've just seen is the Jakul death ritual, as recorded seventeen years ago by Captain Alton Baker," Boon said. The conference room was stunned into silence. "The implication is clear I think. Throughout my career I have studied hundreds of different species. Nearly all of them have some sort of religion in their past or present, and almost all of those religions share the concept of a form of consciousness that exists separately from the physical body, something that survives death. The soul, katra, pagh, there are many words for it. I've spent most of my professional life trying to prove that it exists, and I believe that what we have here is exactly that."
The silence gave way to chaos as everyone seemingly began talking at once.
"Intriguing," Kydir said simply.
"Could this be some kind of natural phenomenon related to the planet, like the Bak'u homeworld in the Briar Patch?" Graav speculated?
"Maybe this is a natural part of their biology," Dr. Kur'Woo said. "Some sort of post-mortem discharge of neural energy."
"Or it could be technological," Lt. Commander Brubaker added. "We don't know what's inside those spires, it could be some sort of a device that is collecting energy somehow."
"All of those theories and probably a dozen more have been postulated," Boon interrupted. "The short answer is, we simply do not have enough information to say for sure one way or the other. Which is why this mission is so important."
"What about you, Dr. Boon?" Counselor Dennan asked. "Do you have a theory? Do you really think that what we've just seen could be the pagh leaving the body?"
"I am a scientist, first and foremost," Boon said. "I don't want to give any of you the wrong idea, that I'm some sort of religious crusader."
"Do you believe that science and religion have to be mutually exclusive?" Dennan asked.
"No, I don't. I believe that the commonality among religions that I spoke of earlier is proof of that. Proof that there is something real to it all. And I think that a discovery like this could very well go a long way to proving that to a lot of other people as well."
"Is there a particular hypothesis that you're leaning toward, Rachel?" Ami asked.
Boon nodded. "You are all no doubt familiar with the theory of universal evolution." The scientists in the room all nodded. "For the laymen among us I'll explain, it's rather simple." Xander resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her patronizing tone. "The theory attempts to explain why it is we see so many similarities among different species all over the galaxy. Some believe that the so-called Progenitor race is a common ancestor, and that millions of years ago they seeded planets with life all across the galaxy. But the UE theory is much simpler, stating that the reason we are all so similar, why life has evolved so similarly on so many different worlds is because life itself is the constant. That evolution itself is a natural process, like fire or gravity, and so it can be expected to behave in predictable patterns. Fish, birds, reptiles, mammals, and finally humanoids, all evolving the same way with minor variations to suit differing environments.
"Now a colleague of mine at the VSA has postulated an extension of this theory. We're all familiar with the handful of non-corporeal species that the Federation has had contact with over the centuries. Beings that can exist without form, or who can create a form of their choosing at their whim. Beings of immense power like the Q, or the Dowd. So what if this state of being is nothing more than another step in our evolution, all of our evolution? What if this consciousness that exists within us all, this force that can exist after the death of the physical body, the soul if you will, what if it exists because we are destined to one day evolve into beings that will exist without physical bodies at all. I think that these obelisks were left behind by a race of people who have already made this evolutionary jump, as a…signpost of sorts. To show us the way."
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Newton's Loft. That was the name of the crew lounge on the Discovery. Whether Ami had given it that name or it had been named that before she took command of the Intrepid-class vessel Xander didn't know. Either way it seemed fitting for a science ship he thought. It was considerably larger than a standard mess hall would be for a ship this size. Xander didn't know if the new lounge had been part of the so-called Voyager refit that all Intrepid class vessels had undergone several years before to take advantage of some of the modifications the lost ship had made during its time in the Delta Quadrant, or if it had been a custom modification for a different reason, but the crew certainly enjoyed the increased space.
Xander sat at a table in the corner eating his dinner, alone. Solitude was a funny thing, he thought to himself. At first it seemed like a curse, but after a few centuries it had turned into more like a bad habit. Reconnecting with people he cared about was one thing, but becoming part of a crew again, that was proving to be a different story. It was true, most of the crew was distrustful of him. But Tyk had been right too, he hadn't made it any easier on himself. He needed to make an effort. So here he was, he thought to himself. This is making an effort. A few crewmembers glanced his way, but none made eye contact. He tried to project a friendly demeanor as he people-watched, but of course he had no idea if that was how it was being perceived. He noticed not one other red uniform, or even gold. Newton's Loft seemed to be the domain of the scientists. Perhaps Xander wasn't the only one who wasn't welcome here.
Xander picked at his replicated chicken marsala. The chicken was rubbery and bland, and the sauce had a very little flavor. Cartoon food, he thought to himself. That's what replicated food always made him think. The colors were always a little too bright, the textures a little too uniform, and the taste always had a note of artificiality. Very few people these days had any problem with replicated food, or could even tell the difference at all. Eating it always made Xander feel like a throwback. It bothered him, and it was part of the reason that he preferred eating alone.
"Mind if I join you?"
Xander looked up to a sight that he hadn't been expecting at all. A smiling, grandfatherly face with nasal ridges. "Not at all, Counselor. Please, have a seat."
The Bajoran set his glass down on the table and took the seat opposite Xander. "We don't often see you here at the Loft," Dennan said. "In fact, I don't think I've seen you anywhere off duty. Except maybe in the corridors between your quarters and the holodeck, walking your…pet. How is he adjusting to starship life?"
"Scooby is doing very well, getting plenty of exercise. He's quite good at adapting to new situations, and he doesn't mind being on his own for long periods of time."
"Good, that's good. I know how constricting starship life can be, especially to those who aren't used to it. It's important to stay active, to enjoy new experiences and not to fall into old patterns."
"Are we still talking about my cat?" Xander asked, somewhat playfully.
"What do you think?" Dennan countered.
"Why do counselors always answer questions with another question?"
"And how does that make you feel?" The Bajoran laughed and took a sip from his drink. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."
"How is Tyk doing?" Xander asked, changing the subject. He knew that his friend had been seeing the counselor ever since his impromptu joining. He knew that Dennan wouldn't tell him anything specific regarding their counseling sessions, but it seemed like a safe enough topic and a way to steer the focus off of himself.
"He's doing very well, remarkably well considering that he's had virtually no initiate training. But he's got a good support system here. Having you here especially, a tie to his previous hosts, I think that helps quite a bit."
Xander nodded. "I'll do whatever I can. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to adjust to, all of that going on in your head, trying to sort through it all."
"You've got quite a bit going on in your head as well I would imagine," Dennan said. "Living the life you have for as long as you have, and now trying to put it behind you somewhat. He worries about you, you know. In a way, he knows that your adjustment must be even harder than his. He already has ties to this ship, a life here. You're starting from scratch."
"Like you said, I've been doing this for a long time. I've learned how to deal."
Dennan put his hands up. "I'm just making the offer. If you ever need anyone to talk to, my door is always open."
Xander smiled despite himself. "No offense, but the day I meet a counselor that has high enough security clearance to hear what's in my head, I'll eat my combadge."
Dennan smirked at that. "Suit yourself, Commander," he said. "The offer still stands."
"I appreciate that, Counselor. Thank you," Xander said cordially.
"Now that that's out of the way, I'm curious to hear your thoughts about our upcoming mission. Do you think Dr. Boon is going to find what she is looking for?"
Now that was someone that Xander was actively trying not to think about, and yet he seemed to be failing in that regard because he found that he immediately had an opinion. "I'm not sure that she would be satisfied no matter what we found."
"How do you mean?"
Xander shrugged. "It's always seemed to me that the most profound scientific discoveries are usually made by scientists that come to the situation with no expectations. But when you theorize and agonize and…obsess, you give yourself a stake in the outcome and you lose your objectivity. And that's where bad science comes from. At least, that's what I always thought. But what the hell do I know? I don't understand these scientist types."
"You think that Dr. Boon is obsessed with the Jakul?" the Counselor asked.
"I think that she's more interested in proving herself right then she is in really finding out what's happening on that planet. I think that she's willfully ignoring the political issues that are at play here just so she can feel morally superior in her little science cocoon."
The two men stared at each other for a moment before Dennan surprised him for the second time that evening, this time by laughing good naturedly. He picked up his drink and stood. "Two more things I want to tell you before I leave you to your dinner. The first is that I think you understand scientists far better than you give yourself credit for. At least, scientists like Boon."
"And the second thing?"
"If I have to be on this away team, I'm glad that you're going to be there too. Have a good night, Commander. Try to get some sleep, you look like you could use it." And with that the Counselor left Xander sitting there, slightly confused with his plate of cartoon food.
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P'lonis is the next nearest star to the Bolian system, roughly six lightyears away. The four planets that orbit it were the first extrasolar planets discovered by the Bolian people, hundreds of years before they developed warp travel. So when it was discovered that the third planet in the system was M-class, it seemed the natural choice for the first off-world colony. It was once a thriving place, with millions of people living there. It was the center of commerce for the entire sector. But when the Bolians joined the Federation, P'lonis became less important to their economy, gradually degrading into nothing more than a pit stop on the way to the home system. Only a few thousand call it home now, all of them living near the spaceport. They are a poor and desperate people, surviving by whatever means necessary. Few travelers venture outside of the spaceport, and those who do usually meet a violent encounter of one kind or another. But then, John Dallas isn't an ordinary traveler.
It was an irony of sorts, and one that was not lost on Dallas. He abhorred chaos, and yet this was precisely the type of environment in which he thrived. There was virtually no law to speak of outside of the walls of the spaceport. Violence was the currency of choice. People in places like this kept to themselves and knew when to mind their own business. He stood virtually no chance of being found here by anyone who might be looking for him. As long as one could take care of themselves, they would be safe here. And John Dallas could more than take care of himself.
He had been stuck on this forsaken rock for over a month now, waiting for the information that he needed to continue with the task ahead. And tonight was the night that he was finally going to get it. It was dark, and Dallas was walking alone down a desolate trash strewn street, his hands tucked into the pockets of his long overcoat. He passed under one of the few working streetlights as he approached a corner, and he heard a voice call out.
"Don't move!"
Dallas causally turned to see a young Bolian man holding an energy weapon of some kind step out of the shadows. He was shaking, either out of fear or from withdrawal from whatever chemical substance that he was dependant on. His face was grimaced in an expression that he was trying to make intimidating, but in reality was more pathetic than anything else.
"Give me everything you have! Currency, jewelry, and I'll take that coat too!"
"You sure you want to do this, son?" Dallas asked calmly.
"I ain't your son old man, now hand it over!"
Dallas slowly removed his hands from his coat pockets and held them up to show the Bolian mugger that they were empty. The blue-skinned thug seemed to visibly relax as he assumed that the human was going to cooperate. What happened next happened so quickly that Dallas wondered if the Bolian ever saw it coming. Dallas went for his gun, a revolver that he currently carried in a shoulder holster under his coat. He drew it and fired two rounds into the Bolian's chest in less than half a second. The look of shock on the young man's face remained frozen as his body crumpled to the ground, dead. A large dark blue blood stain quickly spread across his chest. The energy weapon clattered to the ground, the only sound that could be heard on the quiet street apart from the echo of the gun shots. Dallas knew that even if anyone else happed to be nearby, they would not recognize the sound and wouldn't react to it. No one carried firearms anymore. Even though that fact benefitted him, it still saddened him in a way as well. It reminded him that even as he was trying to usher in a new future, he remained a relic from a distant past, long forgotten by most.
"Still doing things the messy way, eh John?" a voice spoke from the shadows.
Even though Dallas hadn't heard anyone approach, he wasn't surprised. He recognized the voice. From around the corner where Dallas had been heading, a tall man with blue skin stepped into the light from the street lamp. But this man wasn't Bolian, his white hair and antenna gave away that fact. He had a wicked scar that ran down his forehead to his left eye and then below it again on his cheek, and he offered a crooked grin as he scratched at it. Dallas didn't look up right away, keeping his gaze on the Bolian who was quietly bleeding out on the street. After a few seconds, he replaced the gun in his shoulder holster and looked up at this new arrival.
"I was waiting for you down the street when I heard the shots," The Andorian said. "I knew that it had to be you. Wanted to make sure everything was okay."
"Your concern is touching, Tev," Dallas said. "Even though I'm sure that what you're really worried about is your money, and not my wellbeing."
"Never hurts to protect an investment," Tev said with another crooked grin. "Why do you still carry those ancient things anyway? Phasers and disruptors are so much…" he paused as he looked down at the dead Bolian street thug. "Neater," he finished.
"Too neat," Dallas commented. "If you're going to kill a man, you ought to feel the kick from your weapon, see the blood from the hit. It lets you know that you've done something powerful. Pushing a button and vaporizing a person, it's not right, it's too easy. It's…uncivilized."
"You're an unusual man, John," Tev said vaguely.
"I'm an old soul," Dallas answered.
"We'd better get inside before someone sees us or discovers your friend over there. Come on, there's a bar just down the street."
Dallas followed Tev around the corner and down about a block to the entrance of the bar. It was an old heavy wooden door with no markings on the outside. They stepped inside to find a dark barroom with a dozen or so people inside, mostly Bolian. There were ramshackle tables scattered around the room with a long bar along the wall by the door. There was a wizened old Bolian with a pot marked face standing behind the bar, cleaning a glass. His was the only face that looked up when the door opened, the others simply continued their conversations or stared down at their drinks, trying to continue with whatever illegal business they had of their own, or forget the troubles of their dismal lives. It was places like this that the average person from Earth didn't think still existed within the Federation. But every system of order has its seedy underbelly of chaos, Dallas thought. The illusion of control was almost worse than total anarchy in his opinion. It was a hypocrisy, and it drove him even more to complete his plan. Once he was a god, there would only be one kind of order. His.
The pair sat down at the nearest table in the corner of the bar and Dallas wasted no time getting down to business. "Do you have the name of the ship?" he asked.
Tev nodded. "It wasn't easy, Starfleet uses a ninth level encryption algorithm on all of their comm traffic, breaking that encryption…"
"Spare me the details and just give me the name," Dallas interrupted.
Tev frowned. Had it been anyone else he might have taken offense, but the truth was he was afraid of John Dallas, and the last thing he wanted to do was antagonize him. "USS Thunderchild."
Dallas smiled, which the Andorian found an unnerving sight. "And the rest?"
Tev reached into his coat and pulled out a data rod, sliding it across the table. "As far as the required…wardrobe, I'm afraid I can't…"
"You don't need to worry about that my friend," Dallas said with a smile as he placed the data rod in his inside coat pocket. "I appreciate your work Tev, and as always, your discretion."
"Of course John, you know how much I pride myself on professionalism. Now, about my payment."
"No need to worry Tev, you're going to get exactly what you have coming to you."
The Andorian didn't have enough time to register Dallas' statement as a threat before he heard the gunshot and felt a bullet rip through his abdomen. The only thing that he could think about was the look on that Bolian street thug's face as he lay dying, and how an all too similar look must be currently on his own face. Dallas took his hand out from under the table, still holding the gun that he had shot Tev with.
"I'm sorry old friend, I really am," he said, leaning in and whispering to the dying Andorian in an almost conspiratorial way. "But my endgame is coming soon, and I'm afraid that I can't leave any loose ends. I'm sure you can understand."
Tev slumped forward against the table, dead. Dallas calmly stood from his chair, careful not to step in the growing pool of blood that was forming beneath his former associate. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few strips of gold pressed latinum and dropped them on the bar in front of the stunned bartender. "Sorry about the mess," he said, before he calmly walked out of the bar and disappeared into the night.
TBC...