127
The deckplates had finally stopped shuddering and Astris looked at her wrist chrono. She'd been aboard this ship for nearly twenty hours. Wherever they'd gone to, it wasn't right next to Bajor. They probably weren't even inside the damned Bajoran sector. She rose from her seated position on the bed, straightened out her spine, and squared her shoulders.
The door crankily slid open and Kara stood facing her. Kara's face was etched with concern. Her eyes seemed on the verge of tears. Tears, yes, but they were also resolved. Astris' faint hope that Kara would change her mind faded to a dull regret.
"Are you ready to transport to the surface?" Kara asked regretfully.
"Of course I'm not ready." Astris snorted, "What do you plan to do about that?"
Kara stepped aside and snapped her fingers. Jared and Kelv appeared, poised and ready. Astris didn't want to press her luck with the two renegade Militia constables. With a shrug and a sigh she stepped forward.
Astris resignedly shuffled forward. The two constables were pressed up against each other in the doorframe. Astris suddenly surged forward. She drove her knee up into Kelv's groin. With her foot planted on the deck she thrust the palm of her hand into Jared's nose. As Kelv folded into the quarters Astris had occupied, Jared fell backwards. He hit his head on the bulkhead as he fell to the deck.
Astris leapt over Jared's dazed form and found herself staring down the barrel of a phaser. Kara stood leaned up against the bulkhead, seemingly for support, and tears glistened in her eyes. Astris detected a slight tremble in Kara's lower lip that no one else would have recognised.
"Don't." Kara implored, "This is already difficult enough. I'll protect you, I swear. Nothing will happen to you."
"Save it for the rubes, sister, I'm not buying." Astris snarled.
Kara mouthed the words and Astris impatiently spoke again, "It's an old human expression. The gist of it is that you'll have to shoot me because I don't believe your lies any more."
Kara looked grief stricken, "I'm so sorry."
Kara's gun wavered and Astris had a wavering hope blossom within her, "Gena?"
Kara's grip firmed up and she depressed the trigger. Yellow energy erupted from the barrel and struck Astris squarely in the chest. She crumpled onto Jared's legs. The Militia sergeant vainly tried to get out from underneath the Bajoran 1st Minister's prone form.
"You know," Jared glanced up at Kara, "for a moment there, I didn't think you'd be able to do it."
Kara's voice caught as her grief closed her throat, "F…for a moment I wasn't…wasn't able to."
Jared realised that his leader was on the verge of an emotional breakdown, "Kelv! Give me a hand."
The larger Bajoran groaned from inside of the secure quarters and Jared grew angry, "Damn it Kelv! I need your help and I need it now!"
There was a scraping sound as Kelv gathered himself up. He lurched to his feet and staggered out into the corridor. A viscous smile crossed his face when he saw Astris' prone form. He drew back his foot and Kara's husky voice called him off.
"I shot her, Kelv. It'll only be an afterthought to shoot you."
Kelv hesitated. Kara was clearly unhinged. For all he knew, she'd thumbed up the phaser's power setting. His foot returned to the deck and she lowered the phaser.
A lopsided smile lifted the corner of Kara's mouth as a demented gleam filled her eyes, "Pick her up and help Jared carry her to the transporter."
Kelv hesitated and Kara snapped the phaser up, aimed at him, "Now isn't the time for hesitation, Corporal, nor is it the time for mishandling your cargo. If she is roughly treated, it'll come out of your hide."
Getting underneath her, Kelv scooped Astris up into his arms. He rose to his feet, muttered a curse, and began to follow Kara as she led the way to the transporter room. Jared followed, nursing his throbbing head. So far, this day had not gone according to plan. Kara's growing instability concerned him.
Shift change came, finding Macen and T'Kir in his Ready Room. The door chimed and Macen instructed the computer to open it. Riker stepped in and smiled.
"Hard at it?" he asked jovially.
"We've planned our approach strategy." Macen replied, "It should be fairly simple."
Riker took a seat and crossed his legs, "If memory serves, Boromov eluded you once before."
Macen was chagrined, "An oversight on our part. We didn't know that he was allied with Cell 51. Hell, we didn't even know Cell 51 existed at that time."
"He won't pull that frinxing transporter trick again." T'Kir confidently declared, "We've called the Magnan authorities and arranged for an inhibitor net to be cast over Boromov's residence."
"Good thinking." Riker stroked his beard, "Are you going to brief Daggit and Radil before we reach Magna VII?"
"No." Macen firmly declared, "They're not attached to the landing party."
Riker lurched forward, "You're at least taking Dracas or Kort aren't you?"
Macen shook his head, "Nope."
"What about Hannah or Lees?" Riker pleaded.
"This collar is ours buster." T'Kir said resolutely, "No flatfoot or teammate is bagging him but us."
Riker scratched his head, "I think I know what you said."
"If you think we're going on this bust alone, you'd be right." Macen clarified. His determination was resolute.
"My God Brin." Riker exclaimed in desperation, "Starfleet requires that the CO of the ship beam down with an armed escort."
Macen grew perturbed, "How many times do I have to explain that we're not in Starfleet. This ship gets run the way I want it to. If I want to beam down to a planet without an escort that's my prerogative."
Riker sagged back into his seat in defeat, "All right. Just to let you know, we'll be arriving in the Magna system in eight hours."
"Perfect." Macen grinned, "Enough time to get a bite and some sleep."
"Sure." Riker bitterly commented, "Eat, drink and be merry for in eight hours we die."
Macen frowned in frustration, "Have a little faith, Tom. T'Kir and I have overcome tougher challenges than this."
"And they started off simply too." Riker groused.
Macen rose and came around the desk. Patting Riker on the shoulder, he grinned encouragingly, "C'mon and get some dinner. Chef supposedly whipped up another culinary masterpiece."
"We'll see." Riker grumped as he rose to his feet.
"For Fates' sake, Tom, cheer up." Macen chastised him, "It's not the end of the universe as we know it."
"I'll reserve judgement on that." Riker retorted.
"Get over it, Tom." T'Kir insisted, "We'll be fine."
They left the room with Macen and T'Kir engaged in some playful banter. Riker remained sullen. They boarded the lift and exited when it arrived at the deck hosting the Team Room. The food exceeded every expectation. Even Riker started to smile by meal's end.
Macen donned his SOBs and T'Kir clothed herself in her favourite garb. She was decked out in her duster, matching leather pants and mid-calf combat boots. A red zipper front blouse finished off the ensemble. Both wore their holster/utility belts.
Having checked all the gear in their belts pouches, they exited their quarters and headed for the main Transporter Room. Standing outside the door of the transporter Daggit and Radil stood geared for a small war. Macen shook his head as he approached. T'Kir grew incensed.
"We're coming." Daggit announced.
"Frinx you, Rab!" T'Kir hotly declared.
Daggit bristled and went silent. Radil explained, "Riker told us what you were planning. There are too many things that can go wrong. Boromov's no dummy. He's bound to have his exits covered."
"Are you suggesting that T'Kir and I can't bring in one man?" Macen asked coldly.
"No." Radil faltered, "But he did escape the last time the two of you tried to arrest him."
"This time he doesn't have Cell 51 to rescue him." Macen replied angrily.
"A technicality." Radil shrugged.
"A huge difference." Macen determined, "Boromov is reduced to his own resources. The Magnan authorities are backing us up. Case closed."
"You're trusting local law enforcement?" Daggit asked in disbelief.
"Yes." Macen grated, "We are. As I already said, case closed. Now I'm giving you a direct order: Go back to bed."
"At least have us on stand-by in case something goes wrong." Daggit argued.
Macen thought about it and then nodded, "All right. You're the ready reserve. Satisfied?"
"Barely." Radil sourly grunted.
"If you'll excuse us," T'Kir huffed, "we have a date with Boromov."
Shoulders slumping, Radil and Daggit stepped aside to let the pair pass. As the Transporter Room doors slid shut, Daggit turned on Radil.
"Why are we letting them go?" he railed.
"If you hadn't noticed, they're determined to get into trouble." Radil calmly answered, "There's only one way to deal with such determination: we go around it."
Daggit grew suspicious, "What do you mean?"
"We beam down to the surface and stay close by so that we can provide instant back-up when called." Radil explained.
A sly grin spread across Daggit's rough hewn features, "I like it."
"We have to go to the surface." Radil elaborated, "Macen's arranged for transport inhibitors to be set up around Boromov's penthouse. The only way to respond is by already being there."
"Think they've beamed down yet?" Daggit wondered.
"Of course." Radil brightly smiled, "Shall we be on our way?"
"After you." Daggit ushered her on.
Macen and T'Kir materialised on the roof of Boromov's building. He owned the entire tower that housed an exclusive list of native and alien celebrities. Boromov reserved the penthouse for himself. He and the other residents shared the roof, which served as the landing point for their antigrav aircars.
A police aircar was parked in the open landing pad in the middle of the roof. The residents' parking slots circled the open space. Most of the cars were present but a few slots were currently empty. A Magnan police officer left the cruiser and approached Macen and T'Kir.
The grey skinned Magnan woman possessed jet-black hair and like most Magnans was very petite. Her eyes were turquoise, her nose was flattened and her lips were razor thin. Her face was angular, her chin coming almost to a point. Her uniform was black with gold piping. It vaguely reminded Macen of the "Horatio Hornblower" uniforms that were in Starfleet vogue when he'd joined the service.
The officer wore a Type II phaser slung loosely on her hip. Her casual manner with it indicated either an easy familiarity with the weapon…or a criminal ignorance of the necessary kinesics required for a quick response. Magna VII had been a member of the Federation for over a century now. A highly peaceable planet to begin with, it was likely the need for such devices had evaporated long ago.
"Greetings." The Magnan officer held up a fist, "I welcome you to Magna VII. I am Lieutenant Helrice. I am pleased that we can be of assistance today."
Macen bowed at the waist but kept his eyes locked on Helrice's, "It is my honour to serve with you on this urgent matter. Your aid will assist us in dealing with the brewing crisis facing the Federation."
Concern radiated from Helrice's face, "I have witnessed the reports of the leaders' kidnappings. Thankfully the culprits did not strike here."
"I think that was planned." Macen shared, "Chances are that it was a ruse to allay suspicions towards our suspect."
Helrice frowned, "Mr. Boromov has been a model citizen since his arrival on Magna VII. I find it difficult to believe that he is connected to these criminals."
"Boromov has been associated with various terrorists and revolutionary factions for years." Macen informed Helrice, "The Federation Council was well aware of his past when they granted him a conditional pardon. If he has violated the terms of that pardon then he will be tried for all of his crimes."
Helrice pursed her lips, "I see. We are ready to begin at your command."
"Are the transport inhibitors in place?" Macen enquired.
"Yes." Helrice nodded once, "We placed them at all four corners of the roof. The field extends down several metres. It should block a site to site transport from his penthouse."
"Excellent." Macen was pleased. His expression grew more uneasy and he gestured at Helrice's sidearm, "Have you ever used that thing?"
Helrice smiled, "I practice with it on a weekly basis."
"That's not the same as having fired at a living being. Have you ever faced that scenario? Have any of your officers?" Macen expanded the question.
Helrice grew pensive, "No. It has not been necessary for nearly a century now."
"That's what I was afraid of." Macen frowned, "Have your people maintain peripheral positions. We'll handle Boromov."
"Have you ever fired on another sentient?" Helrice demanded to know.
T'Kir gave her a feral smile and brushed back the folds of her coat so that its length was held back by her holster, "What d'you think? That these were for show?"
"It…it is unconscionable to harm another being." Helrice was stunned.
"Sometimes it's a necessity." Macen firmly replied.
"Not on Magna VII it is not!" Helrice hotly insisted and then sniffed, "And here I thought you were agents of the Federation."
Macen met her eyes and fiercely gazed into them, "We are. Sometimes the preservation of collective security requires force. That requirement extends to agents willing to accomplish the mission regardless of personal cost."
Helrice shook her head sadly, "I cannot fathom a mission worthy of the sacrifice of personal integrity."
"Let's pray that you never do, Lieutenant." Macen said with due sincerity.
Helrice shifted uncomfortably, "The turbolift has been secured to your commands. The Police override will grant you access to the penthouse."
Macen nodded, "Thank you. Inform your people that we're beginning the operation."
Helrice escorted them to the lift, "I want you to know that any use of force will be thoroughly investigated by my staff."
"Fair `nuff." T'Kir remarked as she took hold of Macen's arm and drug him into the lift, "If you'll excuse us, we have a suspect to question."
After the lift doors closed Macen gave T'Kir a quizzical glance and she shrugged, "She's gonna launch a probe no matter what we do."
Macen sighed, "It'll be Amanda's problem not ours."
T'Kir grinned, "Too bad."
Macen activated the lift; "You might want to give her a break once in awhile."
T'Kir lifted her chin, "I will as soon as you do."
Macen grimaced, "Touché."
The lift doors opened and both Macen and T'Kir had their hands hovering over their phasers. Macen carefully stepped out. His eyes searched the room, evaluating potential threats. T'Kir cautiously followed.
"This guy knows how to live." she stopped and whistled as her eyes drank in the opulence of the sitting room. She shook her head, "And here I've been thinking that his quarters in the Royale were nice. This blows them away."
Still alert and poised for instant action, Macen had to admit that T'Kir was right. The room was spectacular. The walls were made of brushed steel. The floors were made up of real wood planks. The Fates alone knew how he'd acquired the lumber for that.
The sofa and chairs were made of black leather. The coffee table was composed of a rich dark wood. Rich tapestries and rare paintings were displayed. Macen approached a painting and examined it carefully.
"These are real." he observed, "They're not holographic representations."
"Of course they're not." Boromov said as he confidently entered the room, "Holograms are vulgar."
Boromov's confidence wavered as he recognised Macen and T'Kir, "What do you want? My pardon has not been rescinded. I've done nothing wrong."
Macen's hands went to his hips and he frowned, "I'd like to believe you but the mere fact that the first thing you did was protest your innocence makes me suspicious. We just want to ask you a few questions. If you answer them you'll be granted immunity from any potential prosecutions your confession may lead to."
Boromov smiled and shook his head, "Very generous but there is a problem. You see, I am innocent."
A smirk grew across Macen's face, "Once again I don't believe you."
Boromov's hands flew out of his pockets. In one, he gripped a Type I phaser. He fired as soon as his arm was level. He swept the room in an arc.
Macen dove behind the couch. T'Kir dropped to one knee behind a chair. Her phaser cleared the holster as she crouched. The particle beam fired over their positions, striking the wall containing the lift access.
The sound of retreating footsteps filled the room as T'Kir came around the side of the chair. Macen sprang up from behind the couch, his phaser gripped in both hands. Boromov had vacated the sitting room. Macen and T'Kir cautiously moved into the living room/library. There was still no sign of the arms supplier. There were two doorways exiting the living room.
One led to a hallway. Doors leading to various bedrooms were plainly visible. T'Kir pulled her tricorder out and took a reading.
"Nothin'." she reported. Turning, she scanned the opposite direction, "I'm picking up a lifesign."
Macen approached the doorway with his phaser held in both hands. He stood at an angle as he aimed at the revealed kitchen space. Pots and pans hung from a space above an island located near the sink, stove and cryo unit. It was the area of an anachronistic enthusiast in the age of replicated food, an indulgence of the prosperous.
Holding his phaser out in front of him, Macen leaned into the kitchen space. His eyes and gun hand swept the dining area. No one was visible. At the opposite end of the space was a set of doors leading to the walk-in pantry. One of the French doors was open.
T'Kir still held her tricorder aloft. Holding the device in her right hand, she used her forefinger to point at the pantry. Macen urged her forward with a cutting motion with his hand. They both stepped out from behind the island, each to their own side.
Boromov suddenly appeared in the pantry's entrance. He hurriedly fired his phaser at the pursuing couple. The beam went between them and struck a pan, producing sparks. Boromov ducked back behind the other door. Macen and T'Kir fired at the closed door.
Splinters erupted from the assaulted door. Macen rushed forward and stopped at the edge of the open doorway. He was poised to shoot Boromov only the Russian wasn't there. T'Kir sprinted and met Macen. She leaned in and took a look.
"He's gone." she observed.
"Really?" Macen remarked sarcastically, "I hadn't noticed."
"Did ya notice the door located in that recessed portion of the pantry?" she asked as she took a sensor reading.
"Yup." Macen nodded once, "He must have gone through there."
"Brilliant deduction." T'Kir quipped, "You must have been an Intelligence Officer once upon a time."
Macen grimaced but remained silent as T'Kir reported her findings, "That door and whatever's behind it is shielded. I can't get a reading."
Macen stepped forward and depressed the button that opened the door. Nothing happened. Macen frowned.
"It's locked. How long would it take you to crack the security code?"
T'Kir shrugged, "Depends on how complex the encryption protocol is."
Macen's scowl deepened, "We don't have time to waste." He pulled a shaped charge from his belt. It resembled an old fashioned padlock. Devised by Dracas, it was a miniature matter/antimatter bomb. Macen adhered the bomb to the side of the door. He rotated the dial face of the bomb, setting the timer.
Macen and T'Kir vacated the pantry and ran behind the island and ducked behind it. The bomb went off and the French doors flew across the kitchen. Macen and T'Kir rose and looked through the dust. Beyond the ruined door was a stairway leading to the roof.
"C'mon!" Macen barked and ran through the exposed doorway and up the stairwell. T'Kir was on his heels as he reached an open hatch. The hatch was located on the far side of the rooftop. An empty car slot lay next to it.
Macen ran towards the Police cruiser situated in the centre of the rooftop landing area. Helrice and a deputy huddled behind its fender. Macen and T'Kir covered the distance between the hatch and the cruiser.
"What does his car look like?" Macen demanded.
"He…he shot at us." Helrice was in shock and babbling. Macen turned to her subordinate, who was much calmer and coherent.
"What kind of car is he driving?" Macen grabbed hold of the patrolman's shoulders.
"A navy blue BMW." the shaken officer answered, "He went east."
"Thank you." Macen replied, "Get the Lieutenant clear of the car. We'll bring it back later."
"What?" the befuddled officer asked.
Macen got in on the passenger side of the car. T'Kir was already in the driver's seat. She activated the car's antigravs and the car bounced upward. The Magnan Police officers scrambled away. T'Kir activated the traditional yellow and green pursuit lights.
"Which way?" T'Kir asked.
"East." Macen supplied, "My guess is that he's in the traffic lane closest to the tower's top."
"We'll find out." T'Kir vowed and gunned the throttle. The car leapt off the rooftop and she guided it into the nearby flow of traffic. She pushed the car to its top speed and she ploughed through traffic. The law abiding Magnans dutifully pulled over and came to a rest. T'Kir raced past them.
Up ahead, a blue BMW sped up in an effort to outpace the approaching cruiser. As fast as the BMW was, the Police Special was faster. T'Kir wore a feral smile.
"I think we've found him."
Macen activated the car's forward phaser array. He locked the phasers on target and fired. A particle beam struck the BMW in the boot. Macen readjusted his targeting range and the next shot hit the car's lower edge. The rear antigrav generator began trailing smoke.
Boromov suddenly dove the car straight down. T'Kir followed. Boromov flew into the lower lane of traffic, dodging left, right, up and down as he careened around the traffic. T'Kir calculated the odds and dove straight through milling crowd of startled drivers. Boromov began to trim out and came to cruise at ten metres off the ground. T'Kir swooped in behind him.
"He's using the crowd below as a shield." Macen growled, "He's thinking I won't fire."
"Will you?" T'Kir wondered.
"Damn right I will." Macen resumed his barrage.
The rear generator gave out and the rear of the car dipped down. The back bumper sparked as it was dragged across the ground. Boromov gave up and parked the car. He got out and began to run on foot while T'Kir brought the cruiser to a rest. Macen and T'Kir jumped out of the Police car and gave chase.
Macen came to a halt and yelled, "Freeze!"
The Magnan pedestrians dove for cover and Macen fired, shooting Boromov in the back. The fleeing suspect fell forward and scraped along the ground as his forward momentum was expended. Macen and T'Kir ran to his side.
Boromov was still conscious and was already regaining the use of his limbs. Macen quickly disarmed him before he could use the phaser again. T'Kir rolled Boromov over onto his back. His face bled from the scrapes suffered during his fall.
"Do what you want." Boromov coughed, "I won't talk."
"We don't need you to talk." Macen wore a cruel smile, "My wife can rip the information from you without your permission. Surely you've heard of her abilities?"
Fear permeated Boromov's eyes, "I'll take the deal."
"The deal was nullified by your fleeing." Macen coldly informed him, "Now you'll get credit for cooperating."
Boromov seemed on the edge of arguing but his anger quickly dissipated, "I'll right but you have to protect me. They'll kill me once they find out."
"No, they won't." Macen assured him, "I guarantee it."
"All right." Boromov sighed, "I'll tell you what I know, but first…"
