134

Haywright made a move to escape upon rematerialising but was blocked by Rab Daggit's massive form. Radil seized her by one arm and Delaney grabbed the other.

"Settle down, Suze. Just enjoy the ride." Delaney suggested.

"Rab, take Mr. Delaney and our other guest to the brig and find her appropriate quarters." Macen ordered.

"Yes sir." came Daggit's bombastic reply. He took hold of Haywright's arms and began to lead her out of the transporter room. Delaney followed, poised to shoot her if necessary.

"That woman's literally got the weight of the world bearing down on her." Dracas chuckled to himself after they departed.

"Rab can't help his size." Macen rejoined, "Exercise is compulsive with him."

"You know what I mean, sir." Dracas retorted, "Both of them looked ready to tear that woman apart."

"If they'd accept the help, I'd give them a hand." Radil remarked and exited the room.

"Not so much in your cases, I take it?" Dracas wondered.

"I want her employer." Macen admitted, "She's just a means to an end."

"I'd personally mindwipe her boss." T'Kir growled.

"I take it we didn't get her boss." Dracas observed.

"No, Chief." Macen admitted, "This one was one step ahead of us. He had friends we weren't aware of."

"First time for everything." Dracas remarked philosophically, "You can't win them all."

"True enough aphorisms, Chief, but that does little to quell the sting the failure leaves behind." Macen advised, "I suggest you return to your engines and let us lick our own wounds."

Dracas shrugged, "Can't say I didn't try."

Macen patted Dracas' shoulder as he ushered him out of the room, "No one can fault you there, Chief."


After securing Haywright in a cell, Daggit checked on Deirdre in the second of the three cells, "Are you all right, miss?"

"Just perfect." Deirdre groused, "Give me one of those phasers you're carrying and watch my day get better."

Daggit was about to reply when Radil entered sans phaser cannon. She wore her double holster again, "Are we complaining again Deirdre?"

Delaney was confused. Everyone on the team referred to outsiders by their last names and each other by their given names. This Deirdre seemed an exception and Delaney asked why.

Radil wore a wry grin as she answered, "Deirdre's from Britannia. It's impolite to refer to Britons by their last names, so we oblige her."

Delaney nodded understanding. Britannia, before being handed over to the Cardassians, was one of the most informal planets in Federation space. Formality was considered a social faux pas. Politeness, however, was mandatory…it was actually legislated and regulated.

"I see." Delaney remarked, "Yet she seems to be being rude to Commander Daggit."

Radil laughed, "The advantages of being a Maquis. You get to rebel against social norms as well. Take a look at our captain and his wife."

Delaney's eyebrows rose. It did explain a lot. T'Kir and Macen both were unlike any representatives of their respective races that he'd ever met. Of course, with their only being forty-six El-Aurians in the span of the Federation, his experience on that note was rather limited. It consisted of a bartender in an establishment in Paris called Sadrine's. She'd once served as the hostess aboard the Enterprise-D.

Delaney had fond memories of Guinan, "The Captain seems an enigmatic man. Much more than his files let on."

"The files probably don't mention that the Captain's personal idol is James T. Kirk." Daggit offered.

"Ah." Delaney remarked. That went a long way to explaining the puzzle. Kirk was a rational commander but he'd always tenuously balanced logic with passion. He'd had Ambassador Spock and Admiral McCoy to act as the voices of each. First and foremost, he was a man of action.

Macen didn't have the voice of logic in his life, just passion in the form of T'Kir. His insistence on daring do was now made plain. Macen was willing to take risks that others would quail at. Part of that stemmed from his abilities to perceive temporal movements but the rest was just sheer recklessness.

It was a testament to the skills of the crew that they'd lived this long. Macen's nearly unparalleled record with Starfleet Intelligence was based upon sheer audacity. It also accounted for the sheer number of commendations and reprimands that laced his personnel jacket. The man was up for promotion one day and on the verge of being demoted the next.

It was no wonder that his wilfulness had cost him his Captaincy after only a few days in the rank. Permanently derailed to the rank of Commander, his odds of assuming command of another vessel had been nil until the revival of the Starfleet privateer program. The loose regulations of the privateer program had allowed Macen to blossom. His chances of thriving within mainstream Starfleet were now nonexistent.

That was why although his commission had been reactivated, Macen and his crew still operated under their letter of marque. Chief of Starfleet Operations, Edward Jellico, had used his time on the Council of Five to derail the privateer program. The advent of Johnson and Noyce, combined with the SID's need to regain Macen, had reinvigorated the program. So far the reenlistment of the privateers had proven successful beyond Admiral Drake's dreams.

Privateers could slip into ports of call that were denied to all but deep cover Intelligence operatives. Such operatives, however, walked the same fine line of ultimate loyalty that the privateer faced but with far greater restrictions. Whereas a traditional Starfleet officer was constrained in how involved in a criminal enterprise he or she could get while infiltrating it, the privateer has no preset boundaries. They are free to commit whatever acts as are necessary to gain the trust of the pirate or cartel leader short of rape, torture and murder.

Privateers were licensed to "defend the interests of the Federation". How they were to go about defending those interests was a matter of great debate. Some felt privateers should adhere to the same guidelines as Starfleet, others did not. It was an argument that literally divided Starfleet, much the way the original Maquis question had.

Delaney was one of those officers that supported the privateer program. Having reached, and exceeded, the constraints of the law and Starfleet regulations, he saw the need for an equalising force. Delaney wasn't proud of the actions he'd taken in killing the pirates that had killed his parents but he still saw them as necessary. As a privateer, he could have done so with Starfleet's unwitting blessing as long as he asserted that lethal force had been justified. It had been a kill or be killed situation so that assertion would have been easy to prove, despite Delaney's firing first. The matter of violating the Neutral Zone would have been a little harder to defend.

"So what happens now?" Delaney asked.

"Jenrya here baby-sits our prisoners while you and I take a stroll to the bridge." came Daggit's terse reply, "The Captain can decide what to do with you there."

Delaney suddenly felt apprehensive. He'd already felt as though Macen had decided his fate. If that were being thrown into question, his opinion of the man may have to change. He also had prisoners to care for aboard his runabout. He couldn't abandon them.

He felt bad enough that he had three people locked up in cells designed for single occupancy. Hopefully, he had a member of each shift represented in each cell so they could arrange sleeping habits accordingly. He wasn't worried about escape. Theoretically, those cells could hold fifty.

"Lead on Commander." Delaney replied nonchalantly.

"I'm a Lt. Commander to Starfleet." Daggit corrected, "Around here I'm just the Special Operations Specialist."

"Sorry." Delaney said contritely, "Lead on then, Specialist."

Daggit looked at him as though he were an especially slow child then shrugged and led the way out of the brig. Radil remained behind, mirthfully snickering. As Daggit approached the turbolift shaft, Delaney realised he still had his rifle slung over his shoulder. Surely if he were being led to his doom, they'd disarm him.


The ride in the lift was a short one. The Blackbird-class ships only had five decks. The brig, transporter, shuttlebay and sickbay were all on Deck 3 along with storage bays. Their trip to Deck 1, or the bridge, took less than two minutes. The doors opened to reveal Macen in the centre seat, T'Kir and Grace manning CONN and OPS and a Klingon sitting at what had to be the Tactical station.

The Klingon rose upon seeing Daggit, "All systems read nominal, Daggit."

"Thanks Kort." Daggit nodded as he ushered Delaney into the heart of the bridge.

"So you're saying there was a massive neutrino reading for several minutes and then it disappeared?" Macen asked Grace.

"Yep." Grace replied with a nod, "After the readings disappeared, I detected what appeared to be a diffused warp trail."

"A cloaked ship at warp." Macen tapped the armrest of his seat with his fist.

"That was my take on it as well." Grace concurred then her eyes lifted and she registered Delaney, "Oh, its you again. Couldn't stay away could you?"

"Your beauty enchants." Delaney bowed.

"We're not on the planet any more, you know." Grace grinned, "You can stop pretending to be the ultra suave secret agent."

Delaney sighed in relief, "That's good. I'd used up my last line anyway."

"Too bad." Grace remarked, "You had some good ones, when you were being more yourself."

"I'll try and remember that." Delaney smiled.

"I hate to break up this blossoming romance, but I have to ask, do you need a ride Mr. Delaney?" Macen interjected.

Delaney seemed shaken from a trance, "What? Oh, no. I have a runabout, the USS Hood, landed below. I also have six prisoners aboard that require my attention."

"We can't send you off woefully outnumbered." Macen's eyes took on a mischievous glint, "Hannah, why don't you escort Mr. Delaney back to his runabout and accompany him back to Earth. We'll escort you in case of further trouble."

"No offence Captain, but you and your prisoners seem to be a greater lightening rod for trouble than me and my six Starfleet detainees." Delaney observed.

Macen grinned, "Maybe, but I may require your assistance Mr. Delaney. Have you ever considered that? With Hannah aboard, I'll know you can some to our aid at a moment's notice."

Grace opened her mouth to protest but Macen swivelled his chair around to face Kort, "Kort, why don't you relieve Radil in the brig and have her report to the bridge for flight duties?"

Kort grinned ear to ear, "It'll be my pleasure. May I have five minutes to deliver the message?"

"Go." Macen waved his hand, "Suck her tonsils out while you're at it."

"Captain," Kort said with wounded pride, "Bajorans don't have tonsils."

"Just go." Macen said in a pained voice.

Macen swivelled his chair again to a neutral point between Delaney and Grace, "As soon as Radil gets here, T'Kir can take you down to the transporter and whisk you away back to the Hood."

Grace looked over at T'Kir and whispered low enough that only Vulcan ears could pick it up, "He did this on purpose."

T'Kir smiled indulgently and whispered in reply, "Of course he did. Just sit back and enjoy the time."

"I'll be in the briefing room making my report to Admiral Drake." Macen announced, "Tell Radil to break orbit as soon as the Hood clears the atmosphere and is ready to depart the system."

"Aye, sir." Daggit replied, being the ranking officer remaining on the bridge.


Zitter entered Nevil's office and sat down on the couch off to the side of the Presidential desk, "Well, I have mixed news, Madame President."

"It must all be bad for you to address me so formally, Hans." Nevil retorted.

"Not true, Sarah." Zitter defended himself, "I just feel a little decorum and respect are due from time to time."

"What's the news?" Nevil sighed.

"My contacts at the SID have reported in." Zitter informed her, "Commander Macen has made his report to Admiral Drake."

"And?" Nevil was slightly anxious now.

"Aric Tulley is dead. He apparently committed suicide rather than accept capture." Zitter reported, "Pytor Boromov is another story."

"Should we start rolling with the counter story now?"

"No." Zitter smiled broadly, "For the first time in his career as an SID agent, Macen failed to bring in his man."

"Really?" Nevil asked in wonder and laced her fingers to sit her chin upon them, "And how did dear Pytor accomplish this miracle?"

"He had help from his esteemed allies." Zitter explained.

"They came out of hiding long enough to assist Pytor?" Nevil remarked, "He must be more valuable to their plans then we thought. Does Macen suspect their existence?"

"He knows someone utilising Section 31 tactics and possibly equipment was involved but he doesn't suspect the involvement of S31." Zitter elaborated, "Unfortunately, he's determined to uncover who aided Boromov."

"Given the Commander's reputation, this could prove a problem."

Zitter shrugged, "Only for Boromov. Our plans remain unaffected. Pytor managed to erase his database. All the data was lost, including his ties with us."

"I'm surprised, Macen is rumoured to have a cybernetics genius among his crew."

"The tapeworm program used to erase the database was a gift from Boromov's 'friends'. It appears they were covering their backsides as well as inadvertently protecting ours."

"Delicious." Nevil remarked with a beatific smile, "We truly can proceed with finally uniting the Federation."

"It's only a matter of time now." Zitter promised, "My staff is already poised to pass regulations requiring the member planets to expend more of the Gross National Product on planetary defence in order to lessen the role of Starfleet in defensive affairs. Their scientific and exploration efforts will remain at the forefront of their charter and the military role will be diminished."

"Excellent." Nevil continued to beam, "That should easily pass through the Council once the planetary defences are up to par. We can use Bajor and Andor as models."

"Excellent idea." Nevil commended him, "Both of those worlds maintain extensive Defence Forces."

"We just need to upgrade the Bajorans spaceforce to modern warp capable ships." Zitter observed, "With Bajor's limited resources, that will prove to be difficult."

"We can assist them Hans." Nevil promised, "The central government will be pressing the Starfleet Corps of Engineers and the Planetary Aid Agency to ramp up the building activities. The Utopia Planetia Yards can remain strictly Starfleet but the Copernicus Yards and the Divan Yards will have to accommodate Defence Force construction. The planetary yards that will have to transfer some of their efforts from freighter construction to military hull construction as well."

"I see you have an astute grasp of the situation." Zitter complimented her.

"One doesn't reach this office without having a grasp of the big picture."

"I suppose not." Zitter replied demurely.

"What's Macen's ETA for Earth?" Nevil asked.

"Three days." Zitter answered.

"Why so long? Risa isn't that far away from Earth?"

"He's escorting a Starfleet runabout."

"A runabout? Why?" Nevil was perplexed.

"Apparently an Admiral Robert Taver Johnson sent one of his subordinates to Risa to act as a back-up to Macen."

"Did he have orders to?"

"No, but the good Admiral sits on an important council within Starfleet. Only the C-in-C could have overridden this order."

"What kind of council is this?" Nevil demanded, "What is this Johnson's role in Starfleet?"

"I can't tell you what kind of council it is." Zitter winced, "Constitutionally, the President doesn't have any knowledge of the Council in order to adhere to plausible deniability strictures. Only the Starfleet Commander in Chief, the Interstellar Security Advisor and the head of the Federation Council's Chief of Interstellar Security know anything of this board and its activities."

"This is ridiculous!" Nevil raged, "How covert can this group be?"

"Not even Starfleet Command knows it exists." a pained looking Zitter explained, "Yet the Council shapes the policies regarding covert operations the galaxy over."

"What's wrong with you?" Nevil demanded, noticing Zitter's infirmity.

"I have a cortical implant that prevents me from discussing the Council." Zitter revealed, "Even discussing the periphery of the Council's business is uncomfortable. Soon I won't even be able to speak."

"Mind control!" Nevil hissed, "The bastards are employing mind control. This tactic sounds like something S31 would employ."

Zitter's eyes watered, "Sarah, we need to drop this subject. I've already said too much."

"What would it take to remove this implant?" Nevil asked.

"An act of God." Zitter sighed as the pain ebbed away, "The implants are permanently installed."

"What happens when the fusion battery depletes?" Nevil wondered.

"First off, that would take close to two hundred years." Zitter's voice regained some of its strength, "Secondly, Admiral Leonard McCoy or his latest protégé would just install another."

"McCoy is over 150 years old, he'll die any day now." Nevil dismissed his charge.

"People have been saying that about McCoy for over fifty years." Zitter rubbed his temple, "As long as he keeps pioneering new medical breakthroughs, he'll outlast us all. Must have something to do with that Vulcan katra he carried. He's approaching a Vulcanoid's lifespan."

"This is ridiculous." Nevil fumed, "What's so secret that the President can't know about it?"

"Attend a meeting and find out." Zitter replied with a wince.


Delaney and Grace beamed aboard the Hood and Grace immediately went for the CONN. Delaney followed and took a seat at OPS.

"I hope you realise that this wasn't my idea." Delaney said apologetically.

"Is there something wrong with my company?" Grace demanded.

"No!" Delaney asserted, "I'm thrilled to have you here. I was hoping we'd get a chance to speak privately."

"Well thanks to my frinxing Captain and my so-called best friend we'll have our chance." Grace said angrily.

"Have I said something to offend you?" Delaney asked, "You're being awfully hostile."

"No." Grace sighed, "I just hate it when people try and set me up."

"So do I." Delaney admitted, "It's one of the reasons I'm still single with no long term relationships in sight."

"Me too." Grace confessed as she lifted the runabout so smoothly it took Delaney several moments to realise they were airborne.

"So, peace?" he extended his hand.

She grasped it, "A truce for now."

"Ouch." he chuckled.

"Well," she said with a coy smile, "it's a long way to Earth in a runabout."


"Hannah reports a successful transition to warp 3." Daggit reported.

"Thank you, Rab." Macen acknowledged, "Bring us alongside, Jenrya. Keep us a 5000 kilometres off her starboard side."

"You got it." Radil replied.

"Here's to a milk run." T'Kir remarked.

"Amen." Macen agreed, "We could use a little peace and quite. Rab, you have the bridge. I'm going to check on Kort and see if he's killed our two 'guests' yet."


Macen entered the brig to find Kort wielding a bat'leth, running through a series of exercises. Haywright and Deirdre looked suitably intimidated by the Klingon's martial skill. Denied the role of a warrior, the physician had transformed himself into one of the deadliest hand-to-hand combatants Macen had ever seen. Only Daggit and T'Kir could spar with him and stand a chance. With a bladed weapon in hand, Kort was nearly invincible. He had rarely lost a bat'leth contest and even then usually to a Klingon Starfleet officer named Worf.

Kort had been banished for being drunk while treating Chancellor Gowron's prized hunting targs. The beasts had died and Kort had been banished from the Empire for gross incompetence. Starfleet Intelligence had taken him in and transformed him into a covert operative. His joining Macen's crew had been a turning point in his life.

Kort's life had two other recent major turning points. His romance with Radil was one. The other was his treatment for alcoholism and his subsequent sobriety. Kort was a renewed spirit, no longer broken by his exile.

"How are the ladies?" Macen asked as Kort finished a complex sequence of movements.

"They are hardly 'ladies', Captain." Kort remarked, "They've each expressed sentiments that would offend an Orion."

"Don't take it personally." Macen advised, "Your honour's intact. Theirs isn't."

"Agreed, Captain. I have taken the liberty of wheeling a cot in here to allow me greater vigilance day or night."

"Good thinking."

"I thank Chief Dracas for it." Kort grudgingly admitted. Dracas' homosexuality flew in the face of Kort's concepts of masculinity, "He did the same to monitor the transporter."

"Really?" Macen was surprised, "I'll have to go thank him."

"Thank him for me as well." Kort rumbled.

"Kort, that's extraordinary."

"It won't become a habit."

"I'll relay that as well." Macen said with a grin and departed before Kort could protest.