The Admiral Morrow referred to in this chapter is the same as the one in the Star Trek III: The Search For Spock. If that helps any.
Now be patient. This chapter and the next will not have any of the 'Enterprise' crew within. However when Chapter Three or Four depending how you're counting it here, they come charging in and pretty well remain. I just needed to set everything up in my own mind.
No I do not own Star Trek or Paramount yet. But I can be very patient when I need to be. and then there are time when I'm not. Waaaaaaaaaa!!!
CHAPTER TWO
The lighted outline of the Star Fleet Headquarters and Golden Gate Bridge shone brilliantly in the early morning hours of a half asleep San Francisco. Dominating the skyline that wouldn't see the gray light of dawn for another hour, the colossal, almost to the believable point of exaltedness of man-made mountains, surveyed the fog covered Bay and city. As always it presented itself outwardly as the 'Great Protector of Earth and surrounding Universe', gleaming blindingly in the daylight and remaining boldly untouchable in the night holding forth their 'miraculous strength'.
A faint shadow of what may have been a smile flickered across the face of Dal Moor at the semi-cynical thought's he had been toying with for the last five minutes, since Headquarters had come into view. His critical viewing of Star Fleet had remained with him for over thirty-five years and it had hardly wavered in that time, except perhaps magnifying at certain intervals. Other than this, it remained carefully quiet and strangely prominent at the same instant, in the fifty year old man, who gazed reflectively out the shuttle window.
It was odd then that such a man would be contacted by Star Fleet with such urgency that anyone with any indication of brain cells would believe the matter to be of universal dimensions. And they would undoubtedly be surprised to know it to be the truth.
Aware of the seriousness of the situation, although not completely positive of the business, he had an inkling of what was in store as he stepped off the turbolift onto the fifth level of the office building. He had refrained from saying to any of his own colleagues, when receiving the emergency signal, knowing they would be no less than repulsed by the request. Very few knew of his connection with Star Fleet and he preferred to keep it as such, not merely because of his own 'Corporation's' dislike for the Fleet, but for safety reasons as well. The less that were conscious of the tie between him and Star Fleet, the less of a chance that unfriendly parties would have to actually track him down to the 'Organization'.
With the combination of danger and loathsomeness it seemed totally senseless for this man to take a risk alone and walk through the Headquarters to the office door of one of the Fleet's most revered and despised Admiral's that ever made his way through the ugly trappings of advancement. The concealed link that obligated him to acknowledge the summons was deeper than that of the animosity shared between Star Fleet and himself.
He found the office nearly eclipsed in darkness when the door hissed open. Remaining in the doorway for a brief moment, he gazed with partial concern and partial amusement at the overly exhausted and aggravated ancient man sitting behind the wide cluttered desk. The greater population would be shocked to learn the Admiral was nearly five years younger than Moor, when first casting a glance at Admiral Theodore Morrow.
Holding the rank of Admiral for just over three years, he had remarkably moved quickly through the ranks. Reaching Captain by thirty-five he claimed the rank of Commodore at Forty-one, the swiftly to Admiral and had remained there comfortably.
How and why he managed to gain this office with such incredible rapidness was understandable. In the last ten years he had been given some of the toughest assignment's possible. The ones left totally untouched by anyone for whatever bias reasons that remained unspoken. Such matters were never questioned especially when they concerned the aristocracy of both Star Fleet and the Federation. What was amazing of this odd record, was the fact he completed each with basically no entanglements. This accounted for the obvious choice of the Admiral. However, the great accomplishments had inevitably taken a frightening toll on the man.
He had never been considered handsome or extraordinary in any aspect, but no one could deny feeling a twinge of sympathy at seeing the drained, agitated, timeworn man sitting behind the desk squinting through the dull desk light at the tall, well-dressed man in the doorway.
"Moor . . . ?"
His voice cracked slightly when he spoke giving way to the existence of the hoarseness that could only come from a full day of screaming until his vocal cords snapped at the continual legion of officers and bureaucrats that had overtaken his office.
"Of course, Morrow. Who else would you be expecting at this time of night, to be creeping through the shadowy corridors of Star Fleet Headquarters? Willingly placing my neck in the proverbial noose with my own people, as well as your own by coming here." Replied Moor, as he stepped into the darkened room, ignoring the door as it shut quietly behind him. "The message I received from you was above your normal insistence, so I thought you would appreciate my haste in getting here."
"Yes, yes. I apologize, Moor." Morrow grumbled impatiently waving a hand in the air, but the tone was leaning toward his unmistaken able strain. "Please sit."
"I prefer to stand." Replied Moor, coming to a half step in front of the desk and gazed down at the other man with a deeper glint of graveness in the steel-gray eyes. "It's become an unwritten law in my 'Company' that it's safer to keep on one's feet as much as possible. A slight advantage."
Face set into its permanent angry scowl Morrow slumped back in his chair, the bloodshot gaze shifting to the desktop and the small pile of disk's and clutter strewn across it, a wave of sudden indecisiveness swept over his face. He had originally contacted Dal thinking at the moment it was the best for the situation. Now after having some six hours to reconsider the circumstances, he was having doubts of this tentative association and was finding it difficult to clear his mind enough to decide if he had chosen correctly.
"There's coffee if you want it Moor." He quietly said, making a hesitant gesture toward a small table placed against the far wall of the office. "I'm not in much of a mood to play host to you."
"You're not in too much of a mood for anything Morrow." Moor said through a strange smile, as he moved to the table and picked up the half empty sterling coffeepot. "This Irionian difficulty is on the brink of exploding right in yours, Star Fleet's and the UFP's face. That would generally cause any man in your position to be overly agitated."
Looking up sharply, Morrow regarded Dal's broad back with a hard stare. "How did you know it was Irion II?"
"I've been waiting for a message wince they found the seventh body. I'm surprised you waited this long. It's become quite a topic in discussion's these last few weeks. In certain circles, of course Morrow." Murmured Moor, watching the steaming dark brown liquid as it was being poured into the china cup. "Somewhat too sordid for the titled cliques."
A nearly silent growl rumbled in the base of Morrow's throat, as he shot his glare around the room before letting it settle on the desk again. "Then I imagine you are aware of the other complication's involved."
Remaining quiet for an unknown length of time, Moor leisurely poured cream into his cup then set the tiny silver creamer on the tray with a faint unconscious flair. He was more than vaguely aware of the 'other complication's' as the Admiral referred to them and had a better idea of how they lay than the Star Fleet or the UFP. And they lay in a very ugly pattern in his opinion, as he absently stirred his coffee and then soundlessly set the spoon down on the saucer. He hadn't liked the implication's of what may occur in the future after the third victim, but had refrained from any action's, refusing to risk crossing the Star Fleet and upsetting his own people. He preferred to wait until he was properly asked and continued with other private matters. Over two months later with the brink of violence ready to break, Star Fleet and the UFP had finally given in and searched for fresh assistance. That usually lead along the path to him and he was usually eagerly awaiting them.
This Irion II business however, even gave him a few qualms' when considering the prospects of picking up the case. Among his own people it had become a taboo subject in the last weeks. Which meant they had the fore sight of knowing what was ahead and all were extremely demur about any of them accepting the case. He shared their reluctance for the most part, but was also shrewd enough to recognize that Star Fleet had already staggered over that line if they had grudgingly turned to him and his 'Organization' for aid. Even if they refused to acknowledge their existence ninety-eight point three percent of the time, Star Fleet needed them and if the condition of Irion II were as unstable as he believed, it would be totally insane on his part to refuse.
"I realize that if you fail in finding your murderer, you'll have more on your hands than ten dead women." He finally said lifting his coffee cup by it's matching thin china saucer and moved to gaze at Morgan again. "If and when the truth does come to the public surface, you're going to find yourself between a rock and a hard place."
"I haven't slept in the last thirty-six hours, since I've received word from UFP Council that I can bring you in on this if I found it necessary. In other words, they've also lost a little of what faith they had in Star Fleet!" Morrow had literally detonated in his chair, a deep crimson color showing through the day and a half growth of a beard as he glared at Moor. "I've got ten women murdered by some psycho, on as planet where everyone is immediately going to point fingers at each other out of desperation and mistrust, once all of this is found out. Which could possibly lead into more than thrown accusations by a horde of ambassador's. That could only follow by having them band together and aim their hostilities for Star Fleet's jugular. With all of that hanging over my head, I don't need you coming in here and throwing around your cynical cliches!"
Suppressing an urge to smile by taking a quick sip of his coffee, Moor focused his gaze on the full-length windows behind the Admiral's desk. He knew the seriousness of the problem, but admittedly he could never refuse a small jab whenever possible when concerning Morrow and Star Fleet.
"It's my turn to apologize, Morrow." Said Moor, walking from his spot next to the table and made his way around the desk to pause in front of the window directly behind Morrow's chair. "But you do realize that part of this is your own failing."
Realizing that in a sense he was correct, Morrow refrained from making any hostile replied to the flat statement. He had overlooked the situation in the beginning when the first three murders had been reported to him, believing Irion II's own security was capable enough to handle it. Seven and a half months later he shakingly came to comprehend that the job was not being done. Leaving ten women murdered and a planet that could be on the edge of blowing up into war if all of it came out in a gruesome mass, with no answers.
"So . . . " He murmured, finding the sobering remark had calmed him down.
Taking an intentionally long sip from his cup, Moor gazed ponderingly at the dark outline of the landscape, as the sky began changing its hue with the coming dawn. This was the moment he had been expecting since leaving his own office halfway across the galaxy and was going to allow Morrow to wallow in his distress for another short amount of time.
"What is it you're getting at, Morrow?" He inquired with remarkable innocence.
Once more the Admiral glowered hotly. "You know what the hell I'm talking about! You knew the second my message came through that I would be expecting certain things from you. It's always been that way between us. What I want to know now, is what exactly are you going to do?!"
Frowning slightly, Moor appeared hesitant in making his reply. "There's very little I can do, Morrow. You have to understand like your own people no on in my Company wants to touch the case. And I certainly am not going to force any of them into it, knowing if I do they won't strain themselves."
"Then, what are your plans?" Asked the Admiral, shifting his chair enough to glance back at the other man.
"It appears . . . " Began Moor, then paused for another sip of his coffee his gaze fixed outside. "...We have only a single choice left to us."
"No!" The word sounded like a heavy rock contacting a granite floor at the speed of light, as Morrow jerked his chair sharply back and stared straight ahead. "I'll not even begin to listen to the idea."
"Do you have a better idea?" Moor threw back. "Do you have one that you know will work?"
"If I did, I wouldn't be asking for your help. I would have all of this under control and possibly, right now I would be on my leave." Snapped Morrow, his gaze moving as Moor came around to his right and placed the cup and saucer on the desktop. "What you're suggesting could get me an unwanted early retirement."
Placing a hand on either side of the desk, Moor leaned forward slightly to look straight into the Admiral's face. "You haven't any other choice left o you and you haven't got time to consider if you're making the right or wrong decision any longer. You did a damnable fine job of screwing that up after the first body was discovered. You have a chance to stop the killings, so don't be stupid enough to push it aside Morrow."
Meeting the stare with some trouble, Morgan was still dead set against the idea. "I've agreed with you in several occasions concerning subjects that could have cost me my post and in some cases, my life. And amazingly you've been correct. But I will not have a drunk and God know what else, entering this case and causing more damage. I'm putting my foot down on this Moor. The last thing I need is a fugitive heading up this case!"
"You're going to tell me there's a difference just because one is a high ranking member of Star Fleet and the other isn't, Morrow? Neither one of us are that much of a jackass." There was an edge to Moors' voice that he used at his rare provoked instances and Morrow's face twitched under the steady gaze. "I'm telling you here and now, if you refuse to take this opportunity that I can give you then I can guarantee that all hell is going to break loose and no one will have any place or one to turn to for protection!"
"She's a menace and a plague." Argued Morrow, keeping to his line of resistance.
Straightening from the desk, Moor released an exaggerated sigh. "Yes, that I will agree to. Still, can you at this second, tell me someone you can place on Irion II with the same intensity built up there and have the confidence that they will do everything in their power to resolve this chaos? No, you can't. And I can tell you why." The zeal had returned to his voice as he pushed the cup aside and sat on the edge of the desk. "Because everyone else believes they have something to lose. In one way or another we're all connected to the base. It would then be wiser to send someone who does have the expertise for this situation and has nothing to lose. Someone who is the best for the case."
"Was the best." The Admiral quickly corrected; leaning back into his chair while a smug expression nearly exposed itself.
"Still, Morrow." Moor replied with his reassuring tone.
"She's been wanted by star Fleet for the last five years and the UFP for the same length of time. Without any type of license for over four years. The Klingons and Romulans both reported numerous offenses against her, since before she left you 'Organization'. The Federation has been deliberating over the idea of issuing a warrant on her head for more brass than most of my newest starship's are worth. And I've been told that she's spent the better part of the last two years in the bottom of a beer glass. Then you tell me I should hand over the permission to let her take control of the case." Morrow said, finding the suggestion incredible. "Can you honestly sit there and imply an idea to me and think I would willingly go through with it?"
"You remember this Morgan, and if you can't go to the records and look it up. Anything she's been sent into she's come back successful. And not of us, including yourself, has ever had to send in a cleanup squad after her. She's the best." Replied Moor, standing up from the desk and moved around to the front of it to focus his full attention on the other man. "And we can argue till the 'Big Blast', but we both know in the end I'm right about this."
The first colors of morning finally broke through and reflected off the walls behind Moor and shaded his smooth face with pink and orange, while the light accentuated the steeliness of his eyes. He knew he had won the contest, now he only wanted to hear it from Morrow.
By the expression on Admiral Morrow's face it was evident that he also knew he had lost, as he regarded the desktop several seconds before looking up.
"If you find her, send her to Irion II."