CHAPTER 10

"One death is a tragedy. A million is a statistic."

- Josef Stalin – Earth (Human)

TAJOR WORK CAMP, ORIAS III, CARDASSIAN UNION

DECEMBER, 2291

Elim Tang sat comfortably in Legate Kai's office. "You have done well, Legate."

"Thank you...how do I address you?"

"We of the Obsidian Order do not use ranks among outsiders. You may simply call me Tang."

"Thank you, Tang."

"We have high hopes that this will become a productive and useful Outpost in short order, and perhaps in a century's time, a thriving member of the Union. How goes the removal of this infestation?"

"I haven't made a complete removal much of a priority, Tang. We've been using them to prepare colony sites, to mine, to build the necessary machines, that sort of thing. We attempted to find markets for their hides, but despite their interesting markings, their lack of fur seems to have hurt their value. Strangely, the Free Traders that I have commissioned to find a market for them as helper-beasts and servants have come up empty. Their anatomies have provided some very interesting research data however."

The taller Cardassian nodded. "There is a problem."

Kai swallowed the lump in his throat. When the Obsidian Order had a problem, it usually meant very, very bad things for those who were not in the Order itself. "What can I do to help?"

"Apparently, your Free Traders have been indiscreet and some of the various media outlets have decided to make this their story of the week." he sneered. "These charming little creatures are being presented as sentient beings and bleeding hearts across the galaxy are bemoaning the cruel Cardassians."

"Let me guess – the Federation?"

"Yes, but not just the Federation. We are receiving some commentary from the Romulons, the Hydrans, the Orions...Mostly the usual 'Save The Poor!' crowd, but it is beginning to approach the level of a nuisance. What is the current population level of the creatures?"

"Approximately 470 million. We've located all of them in a series of large camps where they can be best utilized and employed to productive ends."

"How many have escaped?"

"Virtually none. They are easily domesticated and quite docile. I once handed one of them a phaser – empty of course! - and invited it to kill me. The little thing refused." Kai laughed, "Pathetic, really."

Tang nodded and thought for a moment. "We would like to have them removed entirely by the end of next year when we will begin moving in the first Colonists. This will also remove the media pressure before it has time to gain any real traction. Make sure to keep your Free Traders under control – I would prefer you not use them at all any more."

"It shall be as you say, Tang." Kai agreed quickly.

"HARRY'S BAR", DENEB V, ALPHA QUADRANT

DECEMBER, 2291

Harry's Bar was a run-down space-port bar on Deneb V. The rain glistened wetly on the pavement outside as the broken 'BAR' – in actual English - sign flickered in the night. Inside, Dejan Lilac sat, dejected, looking at Fallon's mother. "I have wasted more time, effort and money on this foolish crusade...What is it about you that makes me care at all whether you live or die?"

She simply sat, peacefully. "You are a good man. Your heart makes you do that which is right."

He shook his head, "I am far from a good man. But there is nothing more to do. No one will help you." He took another drink.

An Arcturian sat down across from him. "You are Dejan Lilac, Orion Trader, are you not?"

Lilac discretely dropped one hand down to a concealed side-arm, "Yes. Why?"

The Arcturian smiled. "That will not be necessary. You seek to help these creatures?" he indicated Fallon's mother.

"Yes, but no one else does." he snorted disgustedly.

"You are incorrect. But it is time to behave as though you believe that."

"What do you mean by that?"

"There are those who are willing to help. But they cannot move openly. And by attracting attention you make it impossible for them to help at all. You must appreciate this fact."

"The Federation? They will send ships and troops?"

The Arcturian looked annoyed. "That would be moving openly, would it not? No, you have taken the lead in this and in the lead you must remain, even as you must become invisible."

"I've spent more than enough time and money accomplishing nothing." he snorted.

"Your purse will be made full again and the funds needed for what can be done will be made available to you." the Arcturian's expression relaxed.

"How much money?" Lilac was interested now.

"There is only so much that can be done without risking war, Dejan Lilac."

"How much can be done?"

"A small raid, a rescue mission, nothing more. How many ships can you command?"

"I have three freighters, large, and atmosphere-capable. But that is nothing! There are millions!"

"Some is better than none."

Lilac thought. "I would need warships. My freighters have no weapons that could deal with the Cardassian forces on Orias III."

"You would also need ground troops. Can these be arranged? They must not have any attachment to any major power."

Dejan laughed, "I think I know just the group. You have heard of the mercenary group 'The Foreign Legion'?"

The Arcturian snorted. "I am a professional. Of course I have. But they are few and use antique weapons and tactics...ahh. Very clever. They are well known rogues who pride themselves on hopeless battles and are composed of outcasts from every society in the Galaxy." he bowed his head. "I am impressed."

Lilac raised his glass in a toast as he took another sip. "Their tactics are antique, but highly effective. Very few forces are prepared to deal with them. Do you know they claim to trace their lineage to an ancient military force on Earth that was made up entirely of criminals?"

"I had heard the story, but gave it little credence. Every mercenary company claims a proud history. It is part of their advertising. I know of a Klingon company that claims to have been founded by Kahless himself."

"But I would need cover. My freighters cannot simply fly into Cardassian space, blast into Orias III, load up a few thousand people and fly away. We would be slaughtered like woolrats." Lilac shook his head.

"Arrangements are being made. You are familiar with a place called The Badlands?"

Lilac snorted. "What Trader isn't? The place is a hell-hole for navigation and dangerous besides."

"And a very good place to hide as well as being reasonably close to Orias III."

"Hmm. It is that. What are these arrangements?"

"Make your plans as though you had the cover you seek. Center them upon using The Badlands as your staging ground. You will be contacted in two months time with details." He stood up without any formalities and left the bar quickly.

Dejan finished his drink at a swallow and looked at Fallon's mother. "Perhaps there are men left in the galaxy after all."

STARFLEET OPERATIONS, SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH

FEBRUARY, 2292

Admiral Angie Stone was not used to feeling intimidated. But the man sitting in the room with her made her wish she had a phaser – or better yet the old Potemkin wrapped around her. She wondered if Captain Spruance felt the same way. The man was obviously Starfleet Intelligence, and made her think 'slimy' the moment she saw him.

A device on the table top blinked a green light. He smiled and said, "Admiral. Captain. I have an unusual request for you. And a very unpleasant one at that."

She and Spruance looked at each other. She said, "Well, you're sure making it sound attractive. What is it? And who are you?"

"Who I am is of no importance. Call me Jones if you need a name. I represent Starfleet Intelligence. There is something that the Federation Council would like to accomplish, but for political and military reasons, it must not accomplish. We need someone who can make this thing happen, and take the fall for it whether it works or not. All we can promise is that things will be made right later."

She laughed, "Are you trying to get us to say no?"

"No. I've studied you both, of course. Were I to come to you and try to sugar-coat this request, you would think I was lying and rightly so. But by telling you the truth immediately, I will gain your trust. I hide nothing: This is a nightmare. You would probably gain nothing by accepting and in fact it will likely cost you greatly."

Spruance laughed a short barking laugh, "Then why the hell would we do whatever this thing is? And what the hell is it?"

He turned to Spruance. "Because both of you have a strong sense of justice. Because you are both highly dedicated to the founding principles of the Federation. And because you both tend to do what is right over what is easy."

Stone said, "Well I will admit you've got me curious, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to say no, thanks for asking. What is this thing and why can't the Federation do it anyway?"

"If you refuse, you must agree this conversation never happened. You will never discuss it with anyone, even each other, again. Understood?"

They both agreed and the man went on. "There is a race of people being exterminated. They have been enslaved, starved, beaten, tortured, skinned, vivisected, experimented upon and they are now being systematically murdered."

Stone, surprised said, "Then why can't the Federation do something? That's what we DO is stop things like that from happening!"

The agent tapped a portable console and a series of low-quality pictures began projecting onto the wall. He said quietly, "Because they are in Cardassian space." Some of the images were clearly sensor traps from a ship flying in, others were from a hidden camera and the bouncing image made it plain it was being worn. Interspersed were pictures of Fallon's mother and a few snippets of interviews with her. The majority of images were a horror show of everything he had said. A small-statured people with large, liquid, black eyes and black and white skin being shot, beaten, flayed – a parade of nightmares.

Ten minutes later when the projections finished, the last image showing on the wall was of a young female humanoid being cut open on a table. Stone and Spruance both were white-faced, their jaws clamped tightly together.

Spruance said, "That might be worth going to war to stop."

The man said, "No, it is not. And we have a plan to stop it without a war, but as I said, the cost to you is high. The Cardassian's society is militaristic and cruel, but this is beyond even their normal limits. We believe it is a small, expansionist sub-society called the Obsidian Order that is responsible, but we have little information about them."

Puzzled, Stone asked "Then what do you want us to do? Rescuing an entire people? That's a job for a fleet with heavy transport support and a lot of ground troops. I'm afraid you may have been misinformed. I command a desk and Spruance teaches children how to fly."

The agent snorted. "I know exactly who you are, Admiral. Your part will become clear, though it will be harder than you can imagine. We have put together an OPORD (ed: Operations Order, a detailed set of instructions for conducting a military operation) for you that will save at least some of these people. It is all we can do. We believe it has a very high probability of success with very minimal friendly casualties. An acceptable level of risk."

Stone said, "Acceptable to who?" and he shrugged.

Spruance said, "Let me see it."

The man slid a PADD across to Spruance. He and Sterling skimmed it. The agent waited patiently while the two officers read quickly through the document, frequently shaking their heads.

Spruance said, "You are insane. I cannot trick these young people into doing this thing. I will not. And you have set me up in the process! Even your own assessment has me in jail! 'Estimated to be not more than 30 days' indeed!"

Stone looked at him, "You would have me convict my own niece of piracy and treason and my friend here of dereliction of duty and negligence?"

"As I said, I can only assure you that all would be made right. The Cardassians would be enraged that such a raid took place, but the fact that it were done by a group of idealistic, well-meaning youngsters acting on their own means that the Federation can deny involvement. By having YOU convict the ring-leaders, especially your niece, it proves the lie. Were we to hire mercenaries for the entire operation, they would rightly conclude it was exactly what we are doing – a diplomatic fig-leaf. But not one that they could ignore.

"Our assessment is that the Cardassians would like to be free of the issue on that planet – this raid may very well end the slaughter entirely. With the Federation taking a firm hand against the ring-leaders, we show sensitivity to Cardassian demands, they show that they are not being run over roughshod and we can parlay that into stronger relations with them and we can end an atrocity.

"For the Federation, it is win-win..."

"But WE all get royally FUCKED!" Spruance said.

"Captain, please. Intel has computed a better than 90% probability that the Cardassians will be satisfied with a pro forma conviction and imprisonment. The Federation Council would issue a full pardon when things have blown over, again a better than 90% probability that will be within 30 days. Essentially, you would have a 30 day vacation at some detention center and work on your Dom-Jot game. Admiral, your niece would be free as a bird with a combat command under her belt at the same time. Once pardoned, she'd be returned to the Academy and graduate with her class.

"It looks horrible – by design. It must convince the Cardassians. But the end result is not horrible, and you will have done much to help an innocent people and the Federation as well."

Spruance was still looking through the OPORD. "You even provide the codes so they can generate forged orders for the USS Archer and Nova Squadron, I see. We can't even have a real ship, you have them using the school frigate. She should be a museum ship."

"Orias III has only light defenses. Three fighters, a patrol craft, and some ground defenses. A frigate and a squadron of fighters is easily their match. Especially when that squadron of fighters is the highly acclaimed – and idealistic - Nova Squadron."

"You think they'll go do this thing for you, all on their own?"

"No, you will note that the plan hinges on you motivating Heather and Sterling to want to do so, and making sure they 'find' the OPORD included in the appendices. When they find that, they will conclude that your intent was for them to find it, and that it is your desire that they carry out that mission."

"And then we completely stab them in the back at their trial." Spruance shook his head.

"Yes. But afterward, they can be told the truth. Their pilots and the crew of the Archer will be innocent – they had valid, written orders supplied by Sterling and Heather. We are talking a week, perhaps two, of them believing they made a hideous mistake during the trial, and then once they are transported to the detention center and the Cardassians have left they too will be told and get an easy 30 day vacation and they will know that they performed admirably in a very difficult job."

"Like puppets." the Captain said.

"If you like." the agent said.

Stone was just shaking her head.

The agent said, "Or, you can do nothing and the Oriaslings will be exterminated. There is no consequence to you refusing this … nightmare. It is understandable that you would refuse – these people are nothing to you. They are not even part of the Federation."

Spruance stood up, skidded the PADD back at him and said, "FUCK you." and stormed over to the door. He almost slammed into it when it did not open. He turned and looked back at the agent. Stone was still sitting there, looking at the hideous image projecting on the wall.

The agent said quietly, "I will need a definitive answer from you both."

Her head sagged down and Spruance said, "Are you all bastards like this? Do you study how to manipulate people so they do what you want?"

"Then your answer is?" he was clearly unaffected by Spruance's insult.

"You knew before you started talking that I would have to agree, didn't you?" Spruance asked. 'Jones' smiled slightly.

Stone picked the PADD up. "When does the nightmare begin?"

The door opened. "The dates are in the appendices. For this to work, you must play your parts to perfection. They must believe this is their idea, and they must believe they are abandoned when the time comes. But remember, all will be made right. We promise."

Spruance said, "We promise?" he laughed bitterly, "Boy, that makes me feel SO much better."