146

The Hood docked at Utopia Planetia, next to the nearly completed Intrepid. Starfleet Security was there in force to take custody of their disgraced comrades. As Grace and Delaney exited the runabout, Grace shivered. She was still wearing her tank to and shorts.

Delaney shot back into the runabout and emerged carrying a field jacket, "Put this on."

"I'm fine, really."

"Put it on, Hannah." Delaney ordered, "For one, I outrank you and for two, I'm being sensible and you're being muleheaded."

Grace gratefully shrugged the jacket on, "So now what?"

"Now we catch a shuttle to Earth." Delaney replied, "Captain Macen and Admiral Johnson each promised us a week's Rest and Relaxation. I'm going to show you Paris and…"

"I'm going to introduce you to orbital skydiving," Grace finished for him, "and white water rafting."

Exactly, but first we need to liberate a shuttle."

"Get me behind the controls of a shuttle and I'll give you a ride you won't soon forget."

"Plan on showing off?"

Grace grinned, "Just demonstrating the extent of my skills."

Delaney returned the grin, "Then let's find a shuttle."

"Preferably a Type 6 or a clunkier model. I want a challenge." Grace said with a feral grin.

The Solstice docked within Spacedock. The sight of a Blackbird-class scout sailing into the massive hangar area of Spacedock caused quite a stir at several of the officer's lounges. Waiting in the lounge nearest the Solstice's docking pylon, Admiral Amanda Drake anxiously awaited the return of her prodigal investigative team. She knew not all of the team was represented and that only made her anxiety worse.

Macen's team was the SID's first and that garnered a special place in Drake's heart. She'd stood by them through Macen's court-martial and their transition to being privateers. She'd endured Macen's irreverence for rank and title. She'd protested the cessation of Starfleet employing privateers and fought for Macen's reinstatement.

She'd objected to Macen's commission being reactivated, knowing it would just rekindle his rebellious streak. So far there'd been no problems but she'd sensed a storm brewing in Macen's report of Johnson's man, Delaney, becoming involved in the mission. There was no ire towards Delaney that much was clear. Macen's rancour was reserved for Admiral Johnson.

Macen, with his temper in a twist, was a force of nature. He'd have his objectives and he would literally move heaven and earth to achieve them. Drake was here to deflect Macen's wrath.

The umbilical sealed against the ship's primary hatch. The Security officers standing with Drake tensed. They were here to receive two prisoners. It was a four-person detail, all armed.

The hatch opened after what seemed an eternity. Macen exited first followed by T'Kir. Daggit and Radil held onto the prisoners as they exited. The Security officers took charge of them and looked askance at the weaponry carried by Macen's crew. Dracas and Kort were the last to vacate the ship.

"Where's Grace?" Drake enquired.

"With Delaney." Macen replied, "Getting acquainted."

Drake wasn't certain how to take that so she ignored it, "Brin, I'm here to warn you off from confronting Admiral Johnson."

"I was wondering what drug you out of SID headquarters." Macen remarked, "I knew it couldn't be the English weather. You seem to thrive on it."

"Brin, Johnson's a moderate. He convinced Admiral Noyce to vote for restoring Starfleet Intelligence's privateer program and we carried a unanimous vote. That's rarely happened in the history of the Council."

"I'm assuming Noyce sided with Johnson." Macen commented, "What caused Ross to change his mind?"

"Johnson's persuasive arguments." Drake confessed, "Hell, If Alynna and I hadn't already been pushing for it, we would have been swayed."

"All right." Macen decided, "I'll let him live, crippled but alive."

"Brin," Drake lectured, "Johnson already feels you need to be reined in. Don't antagonise him."

"So crippling is out?" Macen asked, "What about a broken bone or two?"

"Brin." Drake said as a warning.

"All right but I'm still going to tell him what I think of his stupid idea of sending unwanted and unneeded back up."

"Feel free." Drake heaved a sigh of relief, "Just be polite."

"When am I otherwise?"

Drake rolled her eyes, "Your seven days of R and R begin as soon as you've finished 'reporting' to Admiral Johnson."

"Perfect." Macen said, "And then T'Kir and I are headed for Vancouver B.C. and Victoria."

T'Kir patted her duffel bag, "Packed and ready."

"Just don't go packing weapons all over the place." Drake stressed, "Earth is peaceful. You won't run into trouble here."

"If the size of the secret caches of weapons Starfleet Security has found on Risa are any indication, then Boromov was supporting terror groups across the quadrant. I'm willing to bet that included Earth." Macen hypothesised, "Not everyone is happy leaving in a utopia."

"Like yourself and your band of merry men." Drake retorted.

"Exactly." Macen agreed, "We're dangerous and so is anyone like us."

"Earth will take its chances. Just don't topple the UFP while you're here." Drake remarked.

"The sacrifices I make for the cause." Macen sighed and then he turned to T'Kir, "C'mon, we have a date with a transporter."

As they filed by, Drake could overhear snippets of conversation.

"I've heard nothing but wonderful things about Minsk." Kort was trying to convince Radil.

"Uh huh." she replied, thoroughly unconvinced.

"Hurry up Rab." Dracas urged, "Kiv's in town and he's dying to meet you. Wait until you see my place in Soho. My time with Outbound Ventures paid off."

Drake watched them go and hoped they wouldn't get arrested for anything. Macen's people were likely to take out several city blocks while resisting arrest. While she felt better about Macen's upcoming confrontation with Johnson she still had a pit in her stomach.

Why couldn't these people be more normal? she asked herself for the hundredth time. As before, there was no answer to that question. She was merely left with the realities of the situation and the iron will to meet them.

Johnson sat down behind his desk at Starfleet Command and slowly savoured the pasta vijoule soup he'd prepared the night before. Johnson disdained food replicators and cooked his own meals at every available opportunity. He specialised in Mediterranean cuisine and loved to share his creations. His yeoman was currently enjoying a bowl herself out at the office's reception area.

A perplexed sounding yeoman interrupted Johnson's meal, "Sir, do you have a noon appointment?"

Only with my soup, Johnson thought but he said, "Not that I'm aware of. Have you checked my schedule?"

"Yessir. He doesn't appear there."

"He who?"

"A Commander Brin Macen."

Johnson's heart leapt, "Send him in."

"Sir, there's a woman here…a Vulcan and she's smiling at me. Should I alert Security?"

"Send her in as well if she's so inclined."

The door slid open and revealed Brin Macen. The man looked exactly like his personnel image from fifty years ago. It was astounding. He was also armed. Johnson wondered how he'd gotten past Security. Then seeing Macen's expression, he wondered if he had cause to be alarmed.

"Please, Commander, have a seat." Johnson rose and gestured towards one of the two chairs facing his desk, "Would you like a cup of soup? I'd offer a bowl but I'm running low."

"No, thank you." Macen said as he took the offered seat.

"What about your wife, I'm assuming that's your wife in the reception area. There aren't many passionate Vulcans around."

"There's passionate Vulcans everywhere, Admiral. They just refuse to express those emotions. Vulcans are probably the most passionate race in the UFP." Macen replied tightly.

"Would I be correct in assuming this impromptu visit has something to do with my sending Commander Delaney to assist you?"

"You would indeed." Macen replied, "It was a reckless act and it endangered my team."

"Mr. Delaney reported that you had an issue with his presence." Johnson leaned back and steepled his fingers, "He reported that you said uncoordinated missions often worked at cross purposes. Is this still your position?"

"Yes, it is." Macen replied, "Without a measure of cohesion, two groups can actually hurt one another."

"But the results of the mission were positive."

"Mr. Delaney knocked out the security monitors, a system we were using to track the enemy, including Pytor Boromov. If we had spent less time briefing Mr. Delaney on our progress thus far and moved more quickly, with accurate read outs of Boromov's activities, we may have circumvented his escape."

"So you are attempting to place the blame for your failure to capture Boromov on Delaney?"

"No." Macen shook his head, "The blame lies squarely with me. I never anticipated Boromov having a ship in support. Where I am placing blame is the unnecessary risk Delaney took in interfering in our operation. My pilot almost shot him. That blame falls on you, Admiral."

Johnson drew himself up but Macen interjected before the Admiral could speak, "You're not an intelligence specialist, Admiral. Don't presume to be one before you send a man out on a covert mission. That's what Intelligence specialists are for."

Johnson deflated, "Perhaps I was rash. I just didn't want to see Boromov get away again."

"But he did, even with your man in play." Macen pointed out.

"All right." Johnson conceded, "From now on I'll consult with Admiral Nechayev or Drake before interfering in one of their operations."

"Wise decision." Macen commented, "I'd heard you were a man of reason."

"And I've heard that you're an idealist. We are each of us what we are."

Macen rose, "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Admiral. I look forward to getting to know you better."

Johnson rose and extended his hand, "As do I."

Macen accepted Johnson's proffered hand and firmly shook, "You're a man of surprises Admiral."

"As are you Commander but might I make a suggestion?"

Macen nodded and Johnson proceeded, "Try wearing the uniform once in a while. I'm willing to bet you look good in it."

Macen broke into a rebellious grin, "We'll see."

Macen departed and Johnson shook his head. The man had been everything the files had said he was and more. He admired Macen's sense of self-control. When he'd entered the office, he looked ready to gun Johnson down. He'd refrained though and had sat down and engaged in an intelligent and persuasive argument. Then he'd left as a potential issue ally rather than a dedicated foe.

Johnson sat back down to his soup he found it cold. He'd long ago discovered that the replicator could warm food as well as synthesise it. He stuck his bowl in the replicator and specified the temperature he wanted. He sat back down behind his desk and counted the noontime encounter as a victory.

Zitter sat down on the office couch, "I don't believe it."

"What now?" Nevil asked.

"Macen." Zitter said, "Brin Macen waltzed down to Starfleet Command and confronted Admiral Johnson over the Admiral sending his own personal agent to Risa."

"So what rank is the former Commander busted back to now?"

"That's just it!" Zitter leaned forward, "Macen won the verbal sparring match and left with the Admiral's approval."

"Hmmm." Nevil rubbed the tip of her nose, "When our plans come to fruition, which side will the good Commander take?"

"Unknown." Zitter admitted, "Macen's a maverick. He fought for colonial freedom during the Border Wars and again with the Maquis. His allegiances are just too murky to fathom. He follows his conscience but no one knows where that leads but him. Personally, I don't think he has a clue as to how he feels about an issue until he has to confront it."

"I doubt that." Nevil rebutted him, "From the records you've shown me and some of Macen's own analyses, I'd say the good Commander knows exactly how he feels about every issue. What varies is the level of force he's willing bring to bear on an issue. He'll swing from simple conversation to lethal force depending on the topic."

"Irregardless of any pattern." Zitter jumped on the theory.

"Exactly. The man is an idealist. He reacts forcefully when his ideals are threatened and violently when he or his crew are threatened."

"It's so simple, why didn't I see it before?" Zitter wondered.

"You tend to look at the little picture, Hans. You examined Macen on the basis of every single reaction and saw no pattern. When you look at the picture in its totality though, it changes drastically."

"Once again you're the big picture woman." Zitter said admiringly.

"My lack of attention to details is why I have people like you around Hans."

"You seem on top of the details of our political agenda."

"It's my life's passion." Nevil said with a gleam in her eye, "It's my destiny to at least try to integrate the colonies into the membership of the Federation."

"Then I guess its mine to help you." Zitter said.

"I guess it is." Nevil gleamed.

Zitter squirmed and then finally asked, "Are we still on for tonight?"

Nevil laughed, "Of course we are, Hans. This President needs to relax."

"I'm sure I can arrange that." Zitter promised.

"I'm sure you can." she replied with an anticipatory twinkle in her eye.

Macen and T'Kir stepped off the ferry onto the cobblestone streets of Victoria. The waterfront was still filled with Victorian architecture. Scenic parks and flowerbeds abounded. They'd spent three days in the metropolitan sprawl of Vancouver and were here to appreciate the slower pace and world famous gardens. They'd spend their last day in Canada back in Vancouver.

That had been a compromise between the couple. Vancouver was T'Kir's environment. Victoria was Macen's idea. The provincial capital had remained more provincial in more ways than one. It had the same amenities but without the nightlife Vancouver was famed for.

Macen had appreciated the music scene at Vancouver. T'Kir revelled in the nightclubs. Now that her medication had been upped again and her telepathy was under control, she delighted in being with people. Macen was more private and preferred isolation.

As in most things, the pair evened each other out. Shortly after disembarking from the ferry, a police officer approached and questioned them regarding their weapons. The couple, as in Vancouver, shortly found themselves in the local police station verifying their identities and security clearance. Again, as in Vancouver, a bulletin was issued concerning the pair and they were free to go their way.

T'Kir pulled the map reader out of her belt's pouch, "Okay, the hotel's that way."

"Don't you want to take a look around?"

"I want t'get rid of this duffel, O' Husband of Mine. It's cumbersome and it gets in my way. We can explore afterwards."

"Fair enough." Macen relented.

After checking in and divesting themselves of their luggage, they found a coffee shop that served sandwiches. They took one of each and made for the closest park. As they sat under a tree, Macen sighed.

"Isn't this relaxing?"

"Maybe for you." T'Kir countered, "I've got an ant eying my sandwich rather suspiciously."

"I think you can deal with one ant."

"What if they're more?"

"There's always more." Macen said, "They're like the Borg. You have to kill the scouts to keep the hive away."

"You'd better be right."

"Of course I'm right."

"Well, it's dead now and my fingers stink."

"Hold your breath while you eat."

"You never said anything about stinky fingers!"

"You've been covered from head to toe in soot and blood and you're complaining about a little smell from an ant?"

"Okay, when you put it that way." T'Kir paused then added, "It is nice though."

"I agree."

"Of course you agree." T'Kir retorted, "It was your stupid comment that got us going on the ant problem."

"I wasn't aware that one ant constituted a 'problem'" Macen said.

"You said there'd be more." T'Kir accused.

"T'Kir?" Macen interjected.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

T'Kir nestled in closer to him, "I love you too…even if you pick parks with ants."

"There's barely a spot on this planet without ants." Macen sighed.

"That's disgusting." T'Kir commented, "Do they all want my sandwich?"

"If they could get at it."

"I'd better hurry up and eat it then."

"That's probably a good idea."

"D'you still love me?" she asked expectantly.

"You know it." came the reply she'd been hoping for and expecting.

They quietly finished their lunch and then discussed their plans for the next three days.