DETACHED MEANT:

Jean-Luc: His Story

Chapter 51:

Moving Things Forward

=/\= =/\= =/\=

He wasn't just an expert. He was the expert. The fixer. The professional. The closer. The cleaner. The perfect assassin. The 'whatever his clients wanted to call him'…

He had been called many different names over the years, for no one would ever learn his real name. He had lost his real name decades ago. He hadn't wanted to lose his given name. But it had been stripped from him, with efficient coldness and the shedding of too much blood. He could never go back to what he had once been.

Such is life, he then decided, at this one fateful moment during the lowest period of his life. And he learned to accept what bitter, cruel fate had handed to him. Then he vowed to never ever let fate dictate to him ever again. He would choose. He would do. And fate would be damned.

For the most part, he had been successful in his quest to control his life. In the darkened corridors of over five hundred alien cities located on non-Federation planets, whatever name he was being referred to as, was whispered with respect.

There were many who requested his services. Most appeals were refused or ignored. For he was the one who chose. Once he agreed to accept an assignment, he got it done. Whatever the assignment was, he accomplished it. Usually, he did it with minimal fuss, and an even lesser chance of being identified much less caught. For the Mordeca was a small, non-descript tan humanoid of Terran, Betazoid and Risian ancestry. He also had slight telepathic and empathic talents. He was adept at chameleon-like skills, morphing into different beings either physically or assisted by prosthetics and makeup, and then blending into backgrounds. His personal abilities included the skills of a master of the Krav Maga which empowered him enough to fight four Klingon warriors at a time – and win. And he was calculating enough to have solved Fermat's theorem all by himself, in spite of the fact that the solution had been found years earlier. His unassisted solution was the correct one too.

But this assignment was different. The Mordeca had not wanted to accept it for though his sense of morality has disappeared decades ago, he found this specific request to be distasteful to him; fraught with potential problems. The only reason as to why he had finally accepted former-DaiMon Bok's commission was because the Orion Overlords, with whom he did the majority of his business, had asked him as a personal favor to deal with Bok's problematic requests. And he found that he could not turn down the possibility of the Orion Overlords owing him a favor. Though his life might have been simpler if he had just killed ex-DaiMon Bok instead of agreeing to work for him.

So, he had accepted Bok's assignment. The only problem was, Bok was a crazy Ferengi. And the Orion Overlords had neglected to mention this little detail about Bok being insane to him. The Mordeca was not happy about that. The Orion Overlords would owe him more than they might have bargained for, once this assignment was finished. That is, if this assignment was ever finished, for he had been working on it for almost a year, now.

For Bok kept changing what it was that he wanted done.

The latest change was that Bok wanted the Mordeca to kill Jean-Luc Picard's wife and then his son. To murder both of them in front of Jean-Luc Picard, before the Mordeca was to painfully kill Jean-Luc Picard. Before, the Mordeca had been told by the Orion Overlords to distract Picard by 'playing' with Picard's wife, thereby tormenting him before ex-DaiMon Bok got around to ordering the assassination of Admiral Jean-Luc Picard. And to do so, with minimal collateral damage. This, the Mordeca had accepted. But now, Bok was changing the parameters of his mission yet one more time. And the Mordeca did not like this one little bit.

He watched from his cloaked ship, in a geosynchronous orbit above Picard House. His spy tools had been in place for months now; everything from tapping into their comm lines to little android insects buzzing around. Those drone insects were trying to capture images off of hand-written note pads and pocket padds that were rarely left out on the tops of desks where his drones could buzz by to see what was written. The Mordeca had been amused when the security of Picard House had dragged out old-fashioned chalk boards to use instead of their terminals, once they had figured out that their communications had been bugged. He had been able to monitor what was on those boards with a minimum of craftiness.

The Mordeca was not amused, though, once he'd seen that certain Maquis security personnel had joined the team, for he respected the Maquis, though he did not necessarily sympathize with them.

The Mordeca at one point in his life, had considered joining the Maquis. But, his desire for latinum had quashed that uncharacteristic impulse. However, he had kept track of every competent, known Maquis since then, for one never knew when one might need proficient mercenaries. And after the massacre of most of the Maquis by the Cardassians, the few Maquis that had survived were looking for work. And most of them did have the kind of skills that he occasionally needed to hire.

The Mordeca had learned a long time ago, to never kill unless it was necessary or was a specific part of his client's request. And the Mordeca understood that if the Maquis were defending the Picards with their characteristic skill and inventiveness, blood would be shed. He did not doubt that he would succeed when he attacked Picard House. He had put everything in motion for the accomplishment of that plan. But, still, he did not want to see good men and women needlessly killed especially because of the behest of a Ferengi madman.

And then there was the problem of Kathryn Janeway. When the Mordeca had accepted this assignment, he had not known the real identity of Picard's celebrity wife. She had not been factored into his original plans. For the Ferengi had a tendency to discount or ignore females of any species. A female was of no importance to a Ferengi's plans. Bok had not considered Admiral Janeway to be significant enough to mention her by name during his initial consultations with the Mordeca. And once the Mordeca had committed himself to serving Bok, it was only then that he learned about Picard's wife. Kathryn Janeway's existence had greatly complicated his plans.

Murdering Kathryn Janeway was a problem that he had not anticipated. She was Starfleet's golden girl, the Delta Quadrant Darling, according to the Federation news services. It was one thing to kill a man who had been Locutus of Borg. Most of the Federation would not mourn or care about his passing. But to destroy Kathryn Janeway – especially a pregnant Kathryn Janeway? That was going to become a problem and it would become a very big one too. Her murder would bring Starfleet up-in-arms and rouse the Federation. The news services would practically riot. And none of them would not stop looking for the perpetrator until they had captured him.

What Bok was now paying him would in no way compensate for that kind of consequence.

He had a lot to reconsider as he watched his quarry go about their lives.

Soon it would be time to call in his mercenaries and countermand all of the Starfleet security about Picard House. But the Mordeca had yet to decide just exactly what he was going to do, above and beyond the killing Jean-Luc Picard. He really didn't see any real reason to murder Kathryn Janeway or Billy Bob. As for the daughter Anna, Bok had never ever mentioned her existence, so the Mordeca did not consider her to be part of his contract.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres-Paris had not expected to find herself beamed into a sunny atrium, surrounded by white walls with vibrant purple or red flowers cascading down from hanging baskets, when she had requested a private meeting with Mildred Krebs.

"Welcome," a voice announced, as B'Elanna looked across the tinkling carved marble fountain with its copy of the 'Three Graces' mounted at the top, to the woman standing on the other side of the rectangular, open air room. "This is the room that helps me stay sane," Mildred casually remarked, as she waved an arm in the direction of a small wrought iron patio table and matching chairs surrounded by quite a few potted ferns and bromeliads, that were located along the sides of the reflecting basin. Fat gold and white koi could be seen lazily searching about for leftover morsels from their last feeding, or the occasional doomed bug that would fly too close to the water's surface.

"Where are we?" a slightly confused B'Elanna asked. "I thought I was beaming over to somewhere in Greece?"

"We're on the Greek Island of Santorini, in the Cyclades. Years ago, I found this house near Fira, overlooking the caldera and the Aegean Sea. I restored the house, added the atrium, spent the best vacations of my life with one of my departed husbands here, and only now come to stay here, when I need to get away from the madness that is my life at the Academy and Picard House. You are the first Starfleet officer that I have ever permitted to visit me here. Not even Jean-Luc Picard has crossed this threshold."

"I see." B'Elanna did not.

Mildred laughed knowing that the engineer did not. "Technically, I don't own this place where I disappear every once in a while. One of my dummy companies bought it for me a long time ago. If anyone tried to discover that I come here now and then, they would have a lot of digging to do. It would take them quite a while, not to mention costing them a lot of latinum to even get close to cracking some of the firewalls I've put in place. Besides, with what I've added to this place as security measures, this dwelling is about as safe and secure as Whiney's admiral's cave in the basement of his mansion."

Mildred sat down on one of the café chairs and again motioned for B'Elanna to join her. She poured into two tall glasses, the Greek version of Sangria; a dark red wine filled with fresh fruit floating at the top of each glass. "It's pretty mild," Mildred explained as she handed one of the glasses to her guest who was now sitting opposite of her. "I drink it for the pleasure of its taste, and not for the alcohol content."

B'Elanna took a sip. Her eyes widened in surprise, as she drank some more. "It's really good," she observed as she drank the drink that included various citric juices and at least one exotic fruit that she could not identify. B'Elanna was feeling a bit out of place wearing her duty uniform when he hostess was wearing a tank top over her jeans.

"You said that you needed to see me?" Mildred questioned, as she placed her glass down on to the mosaic tile top of the table.

"I wanted to run something by you."

"Away from the prying eyes and ears of android insects," Mildred casually suggested.

"Something like that," B'Elanna agreed with a smile. "I've been studying all of the Picard/Janeway mess, going back to the first of the incidents with Kathryn Janeway – re-examining all the facts from hopefully a different point of view."

"And?"

"What if Kathryn Janeway is not really the target? What if she's been the diversion?"

"And the murders?" Mildred just had to mention.

"Again, part of the diversion, though I am now coming to believe that Ensign Esposito's death truly was an accident."

"But Ensign Manion's murder, B'Elanna?"

"Part of some sort of plan that may or may not be associated with the attacks on Kathryn Janeway."

Mildred slowly nodded before picking up her glass and drinking from it again. "I'm been considering the possibility of that too." She put her glass down. "I think that there are two different groups plotting here. One group is trying to control what Jean-Luc Picard is doing or is going to do. They are the long-term planners. The other group is trying to cause bodily harm to the Picard family, with a motive that I do not doubt is revenge. This probably means that a crazy Ferengi named Bok is behind it. After learning about what Bok did to Jason in order to convince Picard that the kid was his son, that Ferengi is capable of everything."

"Commander Reynold discussed Bok with us a while back," B'Elanna mentioned, "and I agree with you on that score. But that is not why I wanted to talk to you. You see, every once in a while, I tend to think more like a Maquis rather than like a Starfleet officer."

"That is understandable," Mildred agreed, not quite smiling over B'Elanna's statement, though she was sorely tempted to do so. B'Elanna's tendency to not think like a Starfleet officer was making her a legend on Utopia Prime, especially since she usually was right.

"Whoever has been attacking the Picards, is very, very clever, with access to technology that we don't know about, and the ability to disguise his ship almost to the point that it is not detectable." B'Elanna finished off her glass of wine before adding, "And that's what is keeping me awake at nights."

"You think that the security at Picard House is not adequate. Or, is being manipulated by this assailant?"

"We both know we've been sort-of dancing to this person's tune," B'Elanna explained. "Which is why I had a thought."

"Meaning?"

"What if when Kathryn Janeway's kimchee was poisoned, it wasn't because he found a weakness in the defense shield due to a transportation? What if he has figured out a way to get around the shield at will, transporter use or no transporter use?"

"I've considered that possibility, B'Elanna," Mildred agreed. "My engineers concede that it might be possible, but they don't seem to know how to do anything about preventing it, so far."

"Well, I might."

Mildred raised both eyebrows. "You've figured it out?"

"I think that our attacker has the technology to place a defense dome over and above the original defense shield, completely encompassing it, that we currently have in place. He basically covers up the original dome. Starfleet sensors might not notice that there is a shield on top of a shield, other than maybe a slight blip when it is put into place." B'Elanna pulled a padd. "I examined the defense shield logs during the two years prior to Admiral Picard's marriage to Admiral Janeway. The logs recorded on average, two anomalous blips every month." She leaned forward and brought up a graph on her padd. "Since Kathryn Janeway moved into Picard House, the average jumped to thirty-seven anomalous blips every month. And this month has already had forty-two of them and we've almost got another two weeks to go before the end of the month."

"The blips are speeding up." Mildred thought for a moment, "Which means that our bad guy is getting ready to do something."

"If his defense dome prevents Starfleet Command from noticing that there is an attack going on at Picard House, they won't be sending in the cavalry when the attack happens," B'Elanna quickly explained. "It will just be the security on the ground, plus your people, who will be the main defense of Picard House."

"Presumably when the attack happens, communications will be disrupted," Mildred concluded out loud.

"And if there are no alarms going off, the disruption might not be noticed for a few minutes, which might give him enough time," B'Elanna added. "Or, our perpetrator has a cover-up contingency plan in place for that, too."

"Fiendish." Mildred's expression turned a little grim. This villain was even smarter than what she had originally considered him to be.

"You really think it's possible?" B'Elanna just had to ask. Her husband Tom certainly believed in B'Elanna, but she wasn't so sure that he understood everything that she had been suggesting.

"If I were a betting woman, I'd put all my money on this scenario." Mildred stood, and nodded toward the house. "I am going to contact all of our security immediately. You, get back to Picard House and discretely inform the admirals of what might be going on." She eyed B'Elanna. "Have you told them yet, about all of your upgrades including the shifting Borg shields in the gardens?"

"You know about that?"

"I recognize a Maquis operation when I don't see one," Mildred not-too-sarcastically observed. "It didn't take my people that long to figure out what your 'gardeners' were installing in the garden. My Number One security agent called your plan 'ingenious' and he is a man of very few words much less actually using any of those words in praise. I have never heard him say that before about anyone else's plotting and subterfuge." Mildred refilled both of their glasses before adding, "Based on the way that you set up the Borg shields, you obviously think that the attack force is going to come from the beach."

"That seems to be the most likely point of attack."

Mildred nodded, "Which means that you have plotted defenses of those movable Borg shields for every other direction point of attack that you can think of, too."

"The beach is too obvious, which means that it probably will be the point of the first attack since our attacker will imagine that we will be focusing our attention elsewhere."

"And therefore, the obvious is no longer the obvious," Mildred concluded. She finished off her drink with several long draughts, and then stood. "I am assuming that Commanders Reynolds and Ayala are focusing on everything?"

"And then some," B'Elanna agreed, as she finished off her wine as well.

Mildred actually smiled broadly. "You just wanted to make sure that my cadre of invisible warriors were on the same page too."

"Something like that," B'Elanna laughingly agreed. "Does Admiral Picard know the extent of your plotting?"

"I have informed both admirals of all that they need to know. And wisely, both do not ask me too many unnecessary questions about my people, when it is not necessary for them to do so." Mildred smiled warmly over at the half-Klingon, half-human engineer. She really admired the way that B'Elanna's mind worked. "You didn't have to go through all of this to get my attention, B'Elanna. I have always taken you seriously as both an engineer and a genius from the moment that I read about how you were able to figure out that there was a duplicate Voyager floating ahead of you in time during your contact with the singularity and when your ship was stuck in its event horizon during your first couple of weeks on board Voyager. That took some creative thinking. And creative thinking is something that you can't teach too well. Either the person has it or they don't. You do, in spades."

"Thank you, I think," B'Elanna not-quite-politely responded, for she somewhat resented Mildred's 'I know everything' attitude. "Besides, it was Captain Janeway and I working together that solved that problem. I didn't do it by myself."

Mildred nodded, accepting the commander's word. "Anything else?" Mildred asked when she noticed that B'Elanna hadn't moved toward the in-house transporter pad.

"Yes. Before I go, could I have your sangria recipe? It really is good."

TBC