Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or its related properties. All such rights and considerations belong to CBS/Paramount.
This is the 18th installment of the Special Investigations Division series. I hope you enjoy! :)
Chapter One
Ian Delaney crept through the back warrens of Molnar V. The information he'd obtained had to be delivered to James McKinley aboard the USS Intrepid immediately. The moment the "Club" had been waiting for had arrived: Bertram Sindis would be entering the Federation in two weeks. Starfleet would finally be able to arrest him.
That is, Delaney griped to himself, if I can get away from these stupid transport and communication inhibitors so I can report in.
Brin Macen, El-Aurian; founder of Outbound Ventures, Inc; and CO of the SS Obsidian was ready for his next madcap adventure, "I'm telling you Amanda, much more quiet and I'm going to go mental."
Admiral Amanda Forger, Director of Starfleet's Special Investigations Division, smiled; "You're already there. The both of you."
T'Kir sighed, "Why does everyone gotta bring up the fact that I was locked up in an asylum?"
Macen looked at his Vulcan wife, "Actually, you brought that particular fact up."
T'Kir stuck out her tongue, "Nyuh!"
"All right children," Forger smiled, "If we're done?"
The "children" remark bit deep. T'Kir was over seventy years old and Macen had seen over four hundred years pass by. However, they retained their youthful playfulness.
Adding to the blend were T'Kir's emotions. Her parents had been colonists on Shial. It had been settled by students of Sybok's tenets, who held that emotional expression unlocked the secrets of the universe, and Romulan defectors. That, added to her mental instabilities, provided a volatile mix to any situation.
Forger wished that she had an available assignment for Macen and his crew. They were amongst the best of her irregular forces. The SID had begun as a regular Starfleet forces outfit. That had changed over time as privateers had been included into the mix.
That change had been largely a result of Macen being cashiered and being granted a Letter of Marque. By employing privateers, the SID could retain his services. . The final transformation had been the most drastic. Now all SID field operatives were civilians.
Privateers, private investigators, and independent security agencies were now the Division's front-line forces. Starfleet still handled the logistics, intelligence analysis, mobilization, and communications of the SID's irregular forces but Forger could foresee a day when that would no longer be the case. As it were, Outbound Ventures supplied nearly a third of the SID's personnel and ships.
Considering future days, once she had her experimental back surgery, she might be able to walk again. The therapy would be rough, requiring her to learn to walk all over again, but she was rapturous over the thought of reclaiming what had been stolen from her.
The trick to the operation was a spinal by-pass. The nerves above the injury would be connected to the nerves below the injury by a biochemical shunt. It was a radical approach that required inhuman precision. This is why Tessa, the Obsidian's EMH, had been called in to work with Voyager's Doctor. Together they would either restore Forger's ability to walk or they would permanently cripple her.
Forger was about to speak when the office intercom chimed. Forger called up the image of her aide. Lt. Commander Ambril Delori's features appeared. The Bajoran woman's excitement was far beyond anything Forger had seen from her before.
"Ambril, what is it?" Forger grew concerned.
"We're receiving a comm signal you need to see." Ambril informed her, "Captain Macen and T'Kir need to see it as well."
Ambril routinely screened her calls and was informed of which topics were of interest to her. Forger nodded, "I'll take it in here."
Forger routed the imagery to the main screen next to her desk. McKinley's face appeared. His features reflected the same mix of excitement and fear that Ambril's had relayed. McKinley was the CO of one of Starfleet's designated trouble-shooters. Crises were his forte so Forger had to ask what had alarmed him.
"It's not exactly alarm, Admiral." McKinley explained, "It's more like anticipation."
"What's up, Jim?" Macen enquired.
"As you probably know, Bob has been sent out to the Molnar system." McKinley referred to Admiral Robert Tavar Johnson, Starfleet's diplomatic specialist; "They're having difficulties with Tarsus again. Rather than see another war between the two worlds, the President ordered Starfleet to mediate. As always, Bob got selected to handle the situation. The Intrepid's here to prevent the Molnarian fleet from starting a shooting war with the Tarsusian picket forces."
"I'm aware of the situation, Captain." Forger replied, "What do you have that affects my division?"
"Bertram Sindis is going to be at Deep Space 3 in twelve days." McKinley reported, "After two years of waiting, we have a chance to nab him in our own sovereign territory."
"Are you certain of your information?" Macen inquired.
"Ian Delaney gathered the intel himself on Molnar V. The Molnarians have us mediating but they're importing weapons from the Meirkus Conglomeration and having them run through the blockades by the Orion Syndicate." McKinley explained.
""Which means Sindis is doublin' his profits." T'Kir opined. Sindis was the head of both the criminal Orion Syndicate and the industrial Conglomeration. The two entities had begun cooperating on joint ventures since Sindis' ascension to the dual thrones.
"We can't get there in time to do anything about it but you can." McKinley pointed out.
"That was the whole point of the Club." Macen mused. He turned to Forger and she saw a familiar darkness in his eyes. She knew casualties were imminent and a lot of property damage would follow. Macen finally had his shot at Sindis and he wouldn't let anything or anyone stand in his way. She decided she wouldn't try.
McKinley signed off and Forger asked, "Should I contact Captain Reyes and alert him?"
"No." Macen firmly killed that notion, "Sindis would be tipped off."
"What do you need?" Forger wondered.
"I need Elias Vaughn and Ro Laren to disappear for a while." Macen revealed, "Let's say for a month? Longer if we don't get him on our first try."
"Anyone else?" Forger enquired.
"I have a few ideas but I can handle them from my end." Macen hedged.
"Fine." Forger didn't hide her relief, "I'll cut Vaughn and Ro's orders and then you can escort me to the transporter pad and then to your ship."
Macen smiled and T'Kir grinned, "It'd be a pleasure. And just forget all the nasty things I've said about ya. I almost take `em back."
Forger knew T'Kir was being kind...in her own twisted way. She barely understood why Macen put up with T'Kir. Back when the two of them had been in the Maquis, he'd been her only friend. She'd been completely mental then.
Of course, Macen wasn't exactly the most stable soul in the galaxy. Traumatized by the assimilation of his homeworld by the Borg, Macen had developed a Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This condition was further exacerbated by his time spent in the Border Wars, with the Maquis, and serving in the Dominion War's front lines. And, it wasn't like his missions for the SID were cakewalks either.
In a society that valued life above all else, Macen had become something of a monster. His response to a threat was greater violence. His days as a "terrorist" had taught him that the most committed wins. Macen's natural stubbornness and idealistic zeal lent itself to carrying out any and all acts that he deemed necessary.
Coupled with these attributes was his concrete belief that it was his solemn duty to unite the galaxy by means of a paramilitary force of warrior-philosophers. The El-Aurian Seekers of Truth were the role model for this enterprise. As far as anyone could determine, Macen was the last of their number. He was determined to see the Order revive itself.
Macen knew that the rebuilding of the Seekers would take generations. With his extended lifespan, he could expect another three to six hundred years to complete the task. After receiving a near fatal dose of theta radiation poisoning, his unnaturally prolonged life was set back to its natural span. However, that still meant that he could live three hundred years longer than his wife.
Since El-Aurian "souls" transmuted into beings of pure energy after the physical form dies, Macen and T'Kir had hatched a desperate plan to remain together even after death. She would emplace her katra within him prior to her death and then their link would allow her to move on with Macen. Something similar had happened before when they died on a previous occasion so it was a viable approach.
Macen "walked" Forger to the ship's Sickbay. "Walk" was a euphemism since Forger travelled via hoverchair these days. Hopefully that was all about to change.
Inside they found Tessa chatting with the Doctor. Tessa was frowning, "You need to get a name. Everyone is going to mistake you for a Time Lord."
"You keep saying that." The Doctor complained, "What are you referring to?"
"Hang around after the surgery and I'll download the info to your program." Tessa grinned.
The Doctor noticed Forger, "Ah! Here we go! Are you ready?"
"As ready as I can get." Forger said.
"Good." He replied, "If everyone else will leave, we'll get underway."
Macen glanced over to T'Kir. She shrugged. Not finding this to be of any help, Macen ushered her out of the area and they went to the bridge. It was time to recall the crew.
Celeste Rockford, Joachim Dracas, and Radil Jenrya strolled along the Great Wall of China. They'd just left Egypt after a weeklong stay there. The Aztec, Incan, and Mayan temples were next on the list. They were going to end their exploration with a tour of the Roman artifacts left behind across Africa, Asia, and Europe.
"I hate to admit it," Radil said, "but this is impressive. It rivals Bajor, or at least, what's left of Bajor after the Cardies got done with it."
"And I hate to bring it up, but it's been fifteen years since the Cardassians left your planet." Rockford reminded her, "You've got to let go of it someday."
"Let's swing by a little country called Israel and we can explore the meaning of the words, 'Never again!'" Radil countered.
"Ladies," a weary Dracas interrupted, "Enjoy the view and take in the wonder...or I'll kill both of you."
Rockford doubted that he could since she was really an Angosian Augment in disguise. Then again, Dracas might give her a run for her money. He may have been cloned from an Ardannian Troglyte but he'd been raised on Magna Roma. He was a soldier born and bred.
Radil had many of the same thoughts. Born to and raised by a Bajoran Resistance cell, Radil had later left Bajor to work as a mercenary to raise funds for her cell. That had all ended when she met Macen's SID team and unexpectedly joined up.
"Wanna gang up on him?" Rockford asked.
"Sure." Radil answered and they both pounced on him. The tickle fight lasted several minutes and tourists from the quadrant over took holopics of the scene. Dracas finally surrendered and the ladies stopped.
"I wish Stan could have been here." Rockford expressed her sympathy for Dracas.
Stan Guthrie was Dracas' boyfriend. He was also a member of Starfleet's Special Operations Command. SOC kept him quite busy. Fortunately for the pair, they each had a high enough clearance to discuss the other's work.
It had been over a year since Radil had lost her love. Abby Collins had been her deputy and then the Security Chief aboard the Indomitable. She'd lost her life in the line of duty and Radil had been broken by it. She'd recovered herself, largely due to the efforts of her friend and former lover, Kort. The Klingon doctor had mended her heart as neatly as he did others' flesh.
Rockford's badge began to chirp. She wore it on a strap around her wrist. She tapped it, "Rockford here."
"Sorry to cancel your travel plans, Celeste, but we've got a mission." Macen's voice informed her.
"Any details?" she asked.
"We're going after Sindis." Was all he said.
Rockford grinned, "We'll be aboard in an hour."
Hannah Grace and Lisea Danan ran through the jungle underbrush as fast as their legs could carry them. Exploring the regions surrounding Ho Chi Minh City, they'd stumbled upon a narcotics ring. They were processing the drugs out in the jungle but remained close enough to the city to be able to easily distribute their wares.
Danan's Trill physiology wasn't handling the heat well. However her experiences with the Maquis were proving invaluable. As was her vast scientific knowledge. She was finding hiding places all over the place.
Grace appeared human but in truth she was an extragalactic Kelvan. Her human form was created to be the ultimate expression of humanity's current form. While Danan was swiftly tiring, Grace was barely registering the afternoon's exertions.
"I think we've lost them for a while." Danan panted.
"About time." Grace opined, "You need the rest."
"I won't argue." Danan replied.
Danan's comm badge began chirping from where it was affixed to her tank top, "What?"
"Lees?" Macen queried her, "Everything okay?"
"No!" she snapped, "We're running for our lives."
"Telrik has a lock on you." Macen replied, "Prepare for transport."
Once aboard, they hugged one another and called the bridge. They then contacted the Vietnamese police and reported the location of the drug cartel. Afterwards, Telrik beamed them to their hotel where they gathered their things and then returned to the ship. Nothing would prevent them from being in on Sindis' capture.
Gantz reined in his horse. The Australian outback was everything he'd been told. He watched the sun start its westward decline. He appreciated the chance to escape from everything.
His comm badge chirped and he swore, "What?"
"Come back aboard." Macen ordered, "We've got a mission."
An exasperated sigh escaped Gantz's lips, "It'll take me at least eight hours to get back to the corral."
"You have twenty." Macen informed him, "We're leaving in twenty-four. Don't be late."
Macen signed off and Gantz darkly muttered, "I should've retired."