Disclaimer: You know the drill here, but TPTB, Paramount/CBS own these characters etc. I just have fun.
New Players?
As they awaited the Admiral's response to the Praetor's very pointed and obvious statement, one person found her mind wondering back to when this had all started, feeling that they were losing sight of their former objective – that of discovering why and where her friend had vanished to. Perhaps one reason as to why had been answered in the last hour or so, but was that the only reason.
"Penny for them," a familiar voice whispered lovingly in her ear, making her smile.
"They might cost you more than that," she teased back and then sobered. "Chakotay," it was all she needed to say as her tone conveyed what was really on her mind. Tom gave her a gentle squeeze of reassurance.
"Do you think he'll answer?" Henley asked quietly, bringing the couples thoughts and attention back into the room and the main broadcast.
"Doubtful," noted a new voice.
"Dad?" his son questioned warily, having recognised the sternness of the man's tone.
"He might be able to answer the questions to do with the DMZ and the planets there, but anything else," he shrugged, a gesture that seemed so out of place on this authoritative elder man and yet summed up how complex and uncontrollable the whole situation had become, not just for him and them, but for all of Starfleet and the Federation, if not the whole galaxy.
"There are something's that even you don't know about," Ayala summarised thoughtfully. Paris snr. said nothing; he didn't have too, they were all realising that something bigger than just their former commander and friend going missing was happening here.
"Did you discover anything about, Seven and the other two?" Tom asked his voice quietly disturbing the thoughtful silence. His father just shook his head, clearly frustrated by that whole side of this affair; he sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping dramatically.
"You tried, Admiral Paris. That's the main thing," said Lyssa Campbell her hand touching his arm, her eyes understanding. The elder Paris looked at her and then round at the others of his son's crew mates all of them expressing the same sentiment that had been voiced.
"Thank you," he said gruffly his voice choked with emotions he didn't want to fully acknowledge just then; taking that hand into his and squeezing it gratefully.
=/\=
Seven carefully observed the sensors as they tracked the sub-space echo as it moved through the layers of that region towards the border between the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. She and Icheb had recognised the readings from their brief time in a sub-space corridor and when the originators had fled their bomb blasted and beleaguered planet into the vastness of space and the bolt hole that the corridors had offered with their enemies pursuing hot on their heels. Janeway had rightly decided against traversing the corridors again and had ordered Paris to re-set their course in normal space on their original path for home.
"Seven?" a concerned voice questioned reaching out to her.
"Just remembering," she assured her friends.
"Can we extrapolate where that echo is heading or even where it will emerge into normal space?" the control centre's Commander, rather than the compound's Commandant asked, clearly thinking of the general security of his planet, from this unknown threat.
"We will try," Seven assured him. Thus the Commander nodded his approval to use the console to do the task; re-accessing and assessing the data the sensors were currently giving them and using their perfect re-call of the telemetry from Voyager's sensors and who the echo may well represent, they tracked the echoes possible course based on where it had been. As they did so a private and silent agenda of their own was set in motion as their guards had eyes only for what was happening via the broadcast, rather than what was happen right under their collective noses.
=/\=
In the cafe across town the Black-clad squaddies were looking decidedly uneasy as there was no clear path from their current seated position to the main exit door. Robin Hood and his two cohorts watched feeling the mood changing in the room around them, as the questions were asked and only silence answered them. Robin decided to make a quiet move; he stood and went to the main counter and ordered another round of coffee, making it a large pot rather than cups, before going over to the squaddies.
"Please join me and my mates for a coffee," he invited, ignoring the glare the largest and senior member of the group gave him. "Things will get very sticky if it's revealed what you and your kind are doing," he said softly so that only they heard, his tone also telling them, that that information might very well do so in the next few moments. The four exchanged worried looks; the senior member then sighed picked up his mug and stood nodding to Robin and followed him to his table, his mates following his lead as quietly as possible, so as not to disturb the other patrons within the cafe, whose eyes were thankfully glued to the screen. They sat at Robin's table where he poured them all a generous helping of the strong black coffee, and waited. At least here they all had a clearer escape route, either to the back door through the kitchen or the main emergency exit. The Squaddie leader nodded approvingly and sipped his coffee.
"Can we extrapolate where that echo is heading or even where it will emerge into normal space?"
"We will try," Seven assured her voice cutting across the quiet mutterings, having linked them into the broadcast.
"Don't do or say anything," Robin advised the Squaddie leader, a hand on the man's black-clad arm. "Alerting your Commandant may well jeopardise them and you," he added.
"You know more than your saying," noted the Leader.
"Maybe; But I believe there is more going on than any of us is fully aware of at this moment. Call it journalist intuition," his smile sad. All at his table said nothing, yet their expressions and side glances at each other said that they understood the implications of his words, along with what had already been revealed.
"I hope you are wrong..." Squad-Leader said, his voice trailing uncertainly.
"The co-ordinates appear to be heading for an area within Starfleet Admiralty," Seven said clearly.
"Where exactly?" asked a male voice, that the Squaddies recognised as their Commandant.
"I have the latitude and longitude figures as 37.871361; -122.25984."
"That would place it about here," the Commander said looking at a local chart of San Francisco. "Why there?" he asked clearly puzzled.
"There's nothing there, it's just an empty room."
"Wait, I think I can clarify things," noted one of his technicians. "There, before the Breen attack it was used as a stellar cartography and communications area for visiting Admirals."
"Any idea when it was last used, in that capacity?"
"The only Stardate I can come up with is 41775.5"
"That's 2364, fourteen years ago. Why there?" the Commander asked again perplexed.
"Do we have anything in the computer database for that date?" the Commandant asked.
"Negative," came the immediate response.
"All databases have been cleared of that date and Stardate 41461.2," noted Seven.
"Why and who?"
"New players?"
"I do not believe so, but they might be to Starfleet."
"Then who?"
"Vaadwaur!"
=/\=
