215
It took the Obsidian and the Enterprise one hour and twenty-seven minutes to reach Iotia. There were only three other ships in the system. They consisted of two Miranda-class analogues and a Mercury-class ship type. The shipyards were full. Two Constitution-classes were being refitted into the Enterprise-class of ship. The other eight ships were new hulls of the Miranda-class type.
The Iotian Starfleet was still headquartered in the massive orbital complex that orbited Iotia. The Enterprise slipped into a parking orbit around the station. The Obsidian followed their example. The next move was the Iotians.
The crew didn't have long to wait. Fifteen minutes after their arrival, Admiral Crist's office contacted Macen. He was invited to beam over to the station with a small retinue. Twenty minutes later, Macen and T'Kir were in the transporter room.
Radil had accompanied them to protest Macen's decision to leave her behind, "This is foolish. You could be walking into a trap."
"Another gunhand won't make much of a difference, Jenrya." Macen replied, "We'll be fine."
"Relax." T'Kir chimed in, "We're big boys and girls. We can handle ourselves."
Radil muttered a particularly vile oath but she subsided, "Rab and I will be on ready alert. Give the word and we're there."
Macen grinned, "I never had a doubt. Hear that Telrik, keep a constant lock on us. If you can't beam us out, beam Daggit and Radil in."
"You've got it, sir." Telrik promised.
"In that case, energise." Macen ordered.
Macen and T'Kir materialised in another transporter room. Captain Pollux stood by the transporter controls. The first thing Macen noticed is that all of the Iotian personnel wore sidearms. That suited him fine. That would make them less likely to object to his and T'Kir's pistols.
Pollux seemed surprised by their attire. Macen wore his normal ensemble of black cargo pants and leather boots coupled with a long sleeved sage green Henley and his black leather flight jacket. T'Kir wore her black leather pants, calf high leather boots, black tank top and her black leather duster. Both wore their tactical holsters/utility belts as well.
"You come well armed." Pollux commented.
"One can never be too cautious." Macen retorted.
"Rightly so." Pollux nodded, "The Admiral will see you now."
Pollux led the couple through the warren that comprised the interior of the station. After several twists and turns and a ride on a turbolift, followed by more twists and turns, they arrived at an office. A yeoman in the office's reception area invited them to be seated. After announcing their presence to the Admiral, she took drink orders from everyone and bustled off to the nearest synthesiser.
Macen glanced about the small reception area. A small desk offset to one side dominated it. The door leading to Crist's office was situated to the side of the desk, the pair dominating one entire wall. One couch and three chairs lined two of the other walls. This left the wall leading to the desk's office space unencumbered.
Macen and T'Kir sat on the couch, which had the exit into the corridor alongside it. Pollux sat in on of the three chairs and was the first thing seen by visitors entering the office. The door to the inner office slid aside and Admiral Crist stood revealed.
If Crist were human he'd have been in his late fifties. The differences in Iotian and Terran aging rates were a mystery to Macen. He knew they were close so he assumed that unless Crist was like Macen's friend Elias Vaughn and over one hundred years old while appearing to be in his low sixties, which he severely doubted, and then Crist was exactly what he seemed.
Macen tasted the man's emotions even while T'Kir conducted a low level telepathic probe. After a moment, they both looked at each other and mentally exchanged notes. Macen found him to be sincere and very concerned over the allegations that Macen had levelled concerning the conduct of his service. T'Kir verified that and added that this wasn't the first charge of similar malfeasance. Crist had staked his professional reputation on tracking down the culprits responsible.
Unlike so many other native officials Outbound Ventures and the SID worked with, the Iotian Admiral was genuinely glad to see the privateers. It was the role of the privateer that the Iotians knew the team from and therefore they'd have to downplay their connection to Starfleet. It would be permissible to mention that Starfleet had authorised their inquiries into the suspected Iotian malfeasance but not to say that this investigation was, as of yet an official probe.
Crist stood in his office way and stared down at the privateer couple. He turned to Pollux and asked, "Where's Jenza?"
"She stepped out to get us all beverages." the Iotian Captain returned with immediately.
"The girl better bring me a fresh mug of cafla or there'll be hell to pay." despite Crist's gruff manner, his eyes smiled.
Crist was several centimetres shorter than Macen and built like a squat wall. His muscular barrel chest and stomach showed none of the signs of aging that the rest of his body reflected. His thickly muscled legs and arms seemed ready to grab someone by the throat, which was the impression Macen was reading off of him. After a good throttling, Crist was fully prepared to kick the perpetrator of these crimes to death.
"I suppose you'd best follow me in into my office." Crist suggested, "Jenza can bring our refreshments in there.
Crist's closely cropped curls were predominantly grey. His eyes and forehead were deeply wrinkled. Here was a man who frequently worried but when he laughed, he treasured the moment. Cobalt blue eyes studied the troupe as they filed past him into his office.
The office was of equal size as the reception area but contained less furniture. Three chairs were seated in front of Crist's expansive desk. Whether this was just for this meeting or a regular practice, Macen didn't know. Part of him wanted to telepathically ask T'Kir to more deeply probe the Admiral's mind in order to learn the answer to that question but he let the matter go.
"So," Crist rumbled as he sat down, "you're the infamous Brin Macen."
"I'd like to know what I'm famous for." Macen retorted.
"You and your company have become well known among our trading partners." Crist explained, "Even the Ferengi are full of stories of your exploits."
"I'd trust a Ferengi about as far as I could bounce him." Macen remarked.
Crist broke into a feral grin, "That's how I derived my information."
The near truth of that statement was clearly evident to T'Kir's telepathy and Macen's empathy. It was a reminder of how ruthless Iotian society tended to be. They may have recently incorporated some of the ideals of the United Federation of Planets into their society but before that they had a century of a society modelled after the Chicago mobs of Earth's 1920s. The current Iotian generation was a bizarre fusion of the two extremes.
More to the point, Macen remembered that there was one Ferengi that he trusted. Quark may have been a profiteer but he dealt fairly with the Maquis. His merchandise had only been marginally overpriced. Quark had a conscience. He still had a profit driven mentality but he did have a strange code of honour. But that had nothing to do with the current conversation.
"I'm looking forward to your help with our investigations." Crist declared, "I'm assuming that this is an internal matter so that you're not being contracted by anyone else to investigate these attacks. I think I can find funds to help reimburse some of your expenses."
Macen neither confirmed or denied Crist's assumptions. T'Kir thoughtcast to him, He wants our help bad. His investigation has ground to a halt and he's hoping we can crack the case.
Macen mentally nodded, I can sense his desperation. I hope we can deliver.
"I'm hoping we can provide solid support as well." Macen manner grew fierce, "I want the bastards behind these events."
"I have to confess that this is a pattern." Crist admitted wearily, "Over the last six months there have been three separate allegations of Iotian Starfleet vessels being involved in commerce raiding."
Crist's fist slammed his desk, "This cannot continue! We have worked too hard and staked too much of our federation's resources to providing security services to client planets. You are in a similar business. You understand my plight. As Chief of Starfleet Internal Affairs, it is my job to prevent such incidents and I will, by God I will."
"As I understand it, your Starfleet has been expanding the scope of its professional services." Macen said, "Much like my own Outbound Ventures."
"Indeed." Crist's resonant bass growled, "We've explored surveying ventures as well."
"You'll find those to be exceptionally profitable if you ask for a percentage of earnings gained by exploitation of natural resources or exclusive transportation contracts with potential colonists." Macen offered.
"We're exploring those very options." Crist grinned, "I can see that we will work well with one another."
"Where do we start?" Macen asked.
"I was hoping you would review several dead-ends we've encountered." Crist answered, "Starting with encrypted transmissions we've been unable to decipher."
T'Kir cracked her knuckles and broke into a cocky grin, "Bring `em on."
Crist slapped his desk and then rose, "I like your attitude. Use my terminal."
T'Kir and Crist exchanged places and she plunged into the computer system. She tapped away at its controls and then pulled out her microcomputer from her utility belt.
"Does this unit have a subspace transceiver?" T'Kir asked, her tone lacking its usual flippant sarcasm.
"No." Crist shook his head, "The transceiver array is tied into the network."
"What's your account logon code?"
"It's voice coded." Crist replied, "I'll authorise access at the appropriate juncture."
"All right." T'Kir nodded and activated her computer, "That'll work."
T'Kir manipulated her computer and within seconds it chimed, "Authorisation please."
"Authorise network access, code enable Crist-delta-niner-foxtrot."
"Yesss." a wide smile spread across T'Kir's face.
"Having fun?" Macen asked dryly.
"These duotronically based algorithms are sooo easy to hack it ain't funny." T'Kir remarked.
"Have you found the transmission intercepts?" Crist asked from the edge of his seat.
"Honey, I can hand you your entire network at this point." T'Kir exalted.
"Can you pull up the intercepts that IA has been investigating then?" Macen urged.
"Got `em." T'Kir's eyes narrowed, "These are Ferengi and Orion codes!"
"Can you break them?" Crist asked.
"D'you honestly think they'll pose a problem?" T'Kir asked rhetorically.
"I honestly don't know." Crist admitted. T'Kir's eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed.
Macen nudged Crist as T'Kir attacked her computer, "Now you've done it."
"What have I done?" a bewildered Crist asked.
"She recently had several of her security protocols broken." Macen explained, "It's a matter of wounded pride and you've just issued a challenge."
"I didn't mean to offend you." Crist apologised.
"Too late, Muscles." T'Kir huffed, "The gauntlet's been thrown."
"Here we go." Macen remarked wryly.
T'Kir focus was entirely on her computer. It beeped and blurped while she hammered at its controls. Jenza brought in the requested beverages. Her look of shock at seeing the Vulcan behind her burly boss' desk was quickly replaced by practiced indifference.
The orders universally consisted of cafla, which was the local equivalent to coffee. It was sweeter than coffee with a milder taste. It possessed a rich fragrant odour and was surprisingly good in Macen's opinion.
"You should export this." he said to Crist.
The Admiral smiled, "We have a trade deal with Bolian distributors. They begin receiving roasted beans next week."
"I look forward to it." Macen assured Crist, "Although, is there any way to make the flavour stronger?"
"Get the darkest roasts." Crist revealed, "They are the most vibrant. Unfortunately, here at Command, we have to appeal to the broadest possible tastes so we procure the milder roasts."
"Aha!" T'Kir shouted so loud that Pollux started, "I've broken them."
"What are they?" Crist was utterly captivated.
"Transit and deployment orders." T'Kir replied as she transferred the decrypted files to Crist's terminal and swivelled it so that he and Macen could see the display, "Someone has been issuing orders to commence commerce raiding. The latest of these reports order the attacks on Outbound Ventures personnel."
"How many ships are involved?" Crist asked dismally.
"Twelve." T'Kir answered, "The orders have been issued to the same twelve ships every time."
"Can you provide me with a list of those ships?" Crist enquired.
"Already done." T'Kir said happily and a flimsy popped out of a printer.
"Why are they doing this?" Macen wondered, "What was the motivation behind these attacks?"
"It's mercenary work." T'Kir explained, "They're hiring out to an outside firm that wants to use the Iotian provocations to expand their own clientele."
"Solarian Security Systems." Macen growled.
"Got it in one." T'Kir replied and smiled brightly, "Looks and brains. Is it any wonder I love you?"
"Only to some." Macen quipped, "Although they usually ask why I love you."
T'Kir stuck her tongue out at him and then continued, "There's a signet that's attacked to every authorisation. I couldn't find it in any Starfleet database."
Crist's eyes narrowed in anger as he recognised the symbol, "It's the seal of the Hereditary President."
"Bella?" Macen asked in surprise, "I thought he didn't have any authority over the Starfleet."
"He didn't." Crist replied, "But the new President carries the rank of Grand Admiral."
"Oxmyx staged a coup?" Macen was stunned, "But why?"
"I never knew before today but I think it's clear that he's perfectly positioned himself to issue these orders." Crist turned to Macen, his eyes wild with fervour, "We have to arrest him!"
"Does your Starfleet have the authority to arrest a sitting President?" Macen wondered.
"He's still an Admiral of the Starfleet. That places him within my jurisdiction." Crist growled, "If he resists, I'll see his bones ground into powder."
"Calm down." Macen instructed, "Breathe. You need a plan. I'm assuming he has his own Presidential security force?"
"Yes." Crist was still fuming.
"Then perhaps I should contact Oxmyx's office and inform them I have a business deal in mind. I'm also assuming that the government is still involved in negotiations between business partners and takes a commission off the top."
"That's correct." Crist acknowledged, "But what good will these negotiations do?"
"I might be able to get Oxmyx to incriminate himself." Macen revealed, "It will also allow me to get people within the presidential…"
"Mansion." Crist supplied.
"…the presidential mansion and shut down the facility's security grid." Macen finished
"And then I beam down with an IA team and secure Oxmyx." Crist smiled in approval.
"Whoa!" T'Kir blurted out, "We just intercepted a new message. All of the suspect ships, except for the one we put in the repair yard, are being recalled to this system and to secure both it and the Obsidian."
"Do you wish to depart?" Crist asked, "If you meet with Oxmyx, you'll surely be stepping into a trap."
"Wouldn't be the first time." Macen replied with a grin, "Ever since the Federation's domestic crisis, Iotia's been a vital partner of the UFP. You supplied colony worlds with ships, protection, and munitions during the strife. Your security contracts protected the border worlds' commerce from piracy while the war played out."
"It was the best decision we ever made." Crist opined, "It opened the door to ongoing convoy protection contracts and trade relations with the UFP."
"The UFP's interests are well met by a stable Iotian Federation." Macen added, "It would behove all involved to resolve this situation."
"But what about the opposing ships?" Pollux asked.
"Captain, you're to rally the local defence picket and transmit an open SOS." Crist ordered.
"There are fourteen ships within a four hour response window." Pollux replied, "Does that give us enough time and resources?"
"Nine of those ships are those listed as the raiders." T'Kir said, reviewing the Iotian deployments, "Two more are six hours out."
"It's hopeless." Pollux grimaced.
"All we need to do is hold out for six hours." Macen informed them, "We have a contingency plan in case of this scenario."
"What kind of contingency?" Crist asked.
"A reserve force of ships." Macen answered, "Nova Roman ships."
"Romans." Crist muttered, "Why does it have to be Romans?"
"They were willing to help." Macen supplied.
"They want revenge for the reparations we made them pay." Crist snarled.
"They will if you provoke them." Macen warned, "You're also forgetting another asset in your possession. This station is a defensive position as well as the starships."
"But we don't know how many of the Command staff have been suborned to Oxmyx's scheme." Crist countered.
"You never will unless you put this station on alert under IA authority and arrest those that object." Macen detailed.
"We could also arrest innocent flag officers." Crist realised.
"You'll have to sort that out after you capture Oxmyx's databases." Macen outlined, "Securing the databases will be a secondary operation for my team. I want to know about Solarian's connection with the commerce raiders. I want the names of the Solarian contacts."
Your team won't live long enough to secure anything." Crist opined.
"You'd be amazed at what we can accomplish when we set our mind to it."
Macen grinned, "But first we need to return to our ship and set the wheels in motion."
"God help you." Crist rumbled.
"Thanks." Macen smiled, "The Fates have always been kind to us."
"Pollux, show them to the transporter room and then get to your ship." Crist ordered, "I'll arrange the rest from here."
"Good luck, Admiral." Macen shook Crist's hand, "May Fortune smile upon you."