Chapter 5
"Captain, I've got a ship on sensors off our port bow," Lt. Palermo said.
Dana looked left and the viewer in front of her right eye changed the view accordingly. A distant dot was visible. "Can you identify it, Mr. Palermo?"
"No, sir. There is too much interference from the badlands for an identification at this range, sir," she answered, a little upset that she couldn't give her commanding officer better information.
Dana looked at the dot for several seconds and decided that something just wasn't right about the reading. She said so as she placed herself at the console nest to Palermo.
Everybody looked at her confused, except for Commander Makai, who kept his eye trained on the picture in his viewer, but was equally confused. Dana tapped several buttons, frowned and did it again while muttering, "Ingenious. They must know the badlands very well. Audacious too, attacking a Dominion warship. Then again, the Dominion doesn't care much for its crew, it is war and this is the Badlands."
Dana walked back towards the middle of the crew and said, "Admiral, target coordinates 10.04.-13."
Palermo checked the new readings that were on her console. "Woah," she said.
"Targeted," Admiral Ventura answered.
"Mr. Papen, make a lazy, sweeping turn to starboard, nothing threatening, like were turning away from the sensor blip and get ready to turn us towards the coordinates I just gave the Admiral, quickly," Dana ordered relaxed.
"Yes, ma'am," Hans answered a little nervous.
"Now, Ensign. Admiral," Dana said waiting for Hans to finish the quick turn, ". . . fire."
"Firing," the Admiral answered. A large explosion rocked the ship, and as it dissipated, so did the sensor blip in the old position.
"Pirates. They used the badlands to mask their position, then use the same badlands to send a reflection of themselves to our port side. As I said, ingenious," Dana explained what the people on the bridge now saw for themselves on their sensor readouts.
"Ensign Papen, return us to our original heading," Dana said as he positioned herself in her old spot.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I should've seen that," Lt. Palermo apologized redheaded.
"No, you shouldn't, Lieutenant," Dana said relaxed. "From now on, however, you should. From now you should know that seeing the truth sometimes requires piercing through a veil of lies, half-truths, and illusions."
~~X~~
2251
Starfleet Academy
San Francisco
Lieutenant Kirk walked out of the classroom. Gary Mitchell went the other way. Kirk was mulling over the conversation he had with Gary Mitchell about his 'flashes of insight', when he was startled by a female voice.
"Interesting lecture, Lieutenant Kirk. I hope you don't mind me listening in?"
"Uh . . . no . . . of course not, Admiral. I don't mind at all," answered Kirk, a little embarrassed.
"Would you please follow me, Mr. Kirk?" Dana asked him, the question polite, but left no illusions to Kirk that he had any choice in the matter.
"Of course, Admiral," Kirk said and started following her. He dodged a student, whom he heard running from behind. The student didn't even bother with explanations or excuses; he just barreled through. Apparently he was late for something important.
Kirk looked to his right, and noticed that the Admiral hadn't bothered with slowing down or making any motion to dodge anything or anyone. She just walked straight down the middle of the isle, hands clasped behind her back, a PADD in her left. The steady stream of cadets split apart to pass them on either side, which impressed Kirk, since she had such a diminutive form. The Admiral turned right into another isle and Kirk followed.
"Excuse me. Coming through. Excuse me. Coming through," Kirk heard coming from the front. He saw a girl maneuvering through the other cadets. She was moving fast and she was coming right at him. He slowed his pace and quickly tried to move behind the Admiral in order to avoid the girl. He was just a bit too late, because he paused a second to use the opportunity to sneak a peak at Dana's backside. They bumped shoulder to shoulder, both of them almost falling down to the ground.
"Sorry," the girl said, she seemed to hesitate a bit as she noticed Dana's admiralty, then said again, "Sorry." And quickly continued on her way, ushering the other students aside as she past through. Kirk saw Dana's face turned toward him and the girl with one eyebrow quirked.
Kirk quickly joined Dana's side again, thinking a little embarrassed, *How long has she been looking at me?*
He got as answer as he heard her say, "If you keep your eyes level and at the danger at hand, next time you might be able to avoid the collision." He looked at her, seeing her look at him sternly. He was about to turn bright red, when he saw the sternness disappear and her mouth quirk up a little in a disarming smile. He was relieved when he felt the heat that was threatening to turn his cheeks red, recede and he managed a small smile although a shy one.
"So . . . you're the resident god, eh?" Dana asked him as she and then he turned left into a much quieter corridor.
"Ma'am?" Kirk asked confused.
"I'm hearing nothing but praise about you, Mr. Kirk. 'He's got fantastic grades.' 'He already holds a medal for keeping peace negotiations of a planet, long in civil war, on track, which earned him the rank of Lieutenant before he even left the Academy.' Blah blah, blah blah. I think I even heard a 'let's kneel down and worship the ground beneath his feet' somewhere," Dana elaborated, unable to resist the sarcastic comment.
This time Kirk did blush, stammering out, "They're exaggerating, ma'am."
"Really? So you think I should demote you back to ensign, or perhaps cadet, huh?" Dana dead panned.
Kirk looked at her with a disbelieving look on his face. He didn't get anything out of his mouth except, "Uh . . ." Apparently the stories they told about Admiral 'Evil Mirror' Drury were all correct. It was said she always mirrored your own comments back at you until you didn't know what to say anymore, and many times the rest of the class was laughing at you.
Kirk saw her head turning his way, a grin plastered on her face. After a few chuckles and making a right turn, she said, "Don't worry, Mr. Kirk. I won't actually demote you. I just get young people to think before they blurt out the first thing that comes to their mind this way."
Kirk seemed a little relieved. Dana opened the door to her office. The first room was rather small. There was a door in the back that lead to the actual office. A secretary, a Lieutenant Commander, sat behind the desk in the room.
"Want something to drink, Lieutenant? Tea? Coffee? Milk? Beer, perhaps?" Dana asked Kirk.
"Uh . . . coffee, please," Kirk answered, not sure whether the beer was joke or not.
"Vanessa, bring Mr. Kirk a coffee and a beer for me, would you?" Dana asked her secretary.
"Yes, ma'am," the secretary answered.
"Thank you," Dana told the secretary and walked through the door in the back wall.
Kirk followed her and saw her taking off her uniform top, hung it on an old style iron peg, and from that peg took a jacket and put it on. Then he followed her to her desk. He looked around the spacious office. It had classy wooden frames, a few green plants in the corners, some of which were obviously not from Earth. He looked through the large window; down on the ground, one story below, was a maze of cadets, each trying to get to their respective destinies. Kirk looked further up; in the distance, if he squinted his eyes, he could see the Golden Gate Bridge. The ocean was easily visible from where he stood. He decided it was a beautiful sight.
"Sit down, Lieutenant," Dana said as she pulled her chair closer to her neatly organized desk, which was piled with a few stacks of PADDs. One stack had PADDs in all colors and decorations, obviously the papers of students that either needed correcting or had just been corrected. The other stack was neatly grey, and lower; Kirk thought that they were probably official papers from Starfleet.
Dana accidentally bumped the desk and the neatly stacked PADDs started to slide down. Dana tried to catch them, but her quick jerky movement caused her to bump the desk again and the stacks quickly spilled across her desk. "Damn!" she cursed. Then, exasperated, she exclaimed, "That's it! I'm going to make sure the manufacturers of these things add knobs or something, because they slide across each other far too easily!"
Kirk barely kept himself from laughing out loud; a smile, however, he couldn't suppress.
"I'll clean this desk later," Dana sighed as she pushed the PADDs aside to make room on her desk. She placed the PADD she had been carrying on the cleared desk, opened the left side of her jacket and searched its inner pocket with her right hand. She looked stricken and started lifting PADDs off her desk. "Pen. Pen. Pen. Where's my pen? Did you see pen lying on the desk?"
"No," Kirk answered as he watched her rummage through the PADDs, apparently getting more and more embarrassed, as if she was afraid of leaving an impression of untidiness. She stood up and felt the other pockets in her jacket. Still unsuccessful, she felt across the rest of her jacket with both her hands. Suddenly she stopped looking and pulled a piece of her jacket up, the outline of a pen was visible. Then she quickly pulled out the inner-pocket of her jacket where a hole could be seen.
"Of course," Dana said annoyed, then pushed the intercom button. "Vanessa, bring a pen with you when you bring us our refreshments, will you? Mine fell into my jacket through the hole in my pocket." A giggle followed through the intercom. "That's not funny," Dana said annoyed.
"Yes, it is," Vanessa giggled and Dana sighed. Then the intercom went down and the door opened. Vanessa stepped through with a plate carrying a glass of beer and a cup of coffee. She walked across the office and placed the cup of coffee in front of Kirk and then placed the beer in front of Dana. "Here's the pen, ma'am," Vanessa said.
"Thank you, Vanessa," Dana said. She grabbed the pen, tapped the PADD with it, then wrote her autograph on her desk. Nothing appeared on the desk though; instead it appeared on the PADD. She pushed her thumb on the thumbprint section of the PADD and handed it to Vanessa. "Get this to Admiral Dowsen."
"Any of those?" Vanessa asked indicating the desk.
"No, I'll have to re-sort them first," Dana grimaced, then decided to add, "but send a memo to manufacturers of these damn things. Make it sound patronizing; something along the lines of, 'people may only need one because they can download everything into it, but if you're student and you need to deliver several papers to several different teachers, or if you're that teacher who gets a whole lot of PADDs from students, you do need to stack them, so it might be helpful if you make sure they can't slide off each other so easily.' And make a little demonstration, will you? Like me here: a little bump and voila."
"Yes, sir. Anything else?" Vanessa asked, unable to suppress the chuckle.
"What are you looking at?" Dana asked the question to Kirk.
"Uh, nothing, ma'am," Kirk said, a bit insecure.
"Lesson number 1: Always say what's on your mind. Spill it?" Dana insisted.
"The beer, sir. I was wondering, but it's probably non-alcoholic, right?" Kirk answered demurely.
"No, it isn't," Dana answered relaxed.
"But the regulations . . ." Kirk started, a bit stricken.
"The regulations be damned," Dana interrupted him coolly. "Besides, I can hold my alcohol pretty well."
"Pretty well? More like extremely well?" Vanessa grinned. Then added to Kirk, "You should've seen it. It was a few years back, there was this guy - first year cadet back then - what was his name? Mo . . . Mi . . . no . . ."
"Montgomery Scot," Dana supplied.
"Yeah, that was it. It was a few weeks into the first semester, and he had boasted, after drinking a few people under the table, that he could do the same to everybody in the Academy. It went around the Academy pretty quickly, of course," Vanessa said, grinning as she remembered.
"I just couldn't let him get away with that," Dana grinned at Kirk.
"So, one weekend she went right ahead and drank this guy under the table. Five hours in a row, nothing but Scotch after Scotch after Scotch. And she was drunk, but that was it, she could still stand and walk relatively straight. Suffice it to say the cadet lost," Vanessa laughed.
"That depends on how you look at it," Dana grinned mischievously. "I think he'd say he'd won; I would say the same thing."
"Oah, so the rumors are true, you did sleep with him!" Vanessa exclaimed.
Dana shrugged and said, "He intrigued me. It's been a long time since I saw somebody drink like that, and still be conscious enough to remember it the next morning. Now, shoo Vanessa, you've got things to do."
"Yes, ma'am!" Vanessa answered and walked out the room.
Dana grinned at Kirk, who was decidedly uncomfortable. "Don't worry, Kirk. I won't bite . . . unless you want me to."
"No, I don't want you to, actually," Kirk half stammered.
"Good, then we can get started. I've heard you want to become a captain?" Dana asked sincerely, nothing of the grin was left on her face.
"Yes, ma'am, I do," Kirk answered with conviction.
"Well then, in order to be a good captain, you must be able to do a few things. I'm going to teach you one. How much do you actually believe that little lecture about the Romulan war you gave, Mr. Kirk?" Dana asked.
Kirk looked confused, then answered, "What is there to believe? It's historical fact."
"Really? Tell me something, Kirk. How far away are Romulus and Remus?" Dana asked, smiling at him.
"Sixty-six light-years," Kirk answered immediately.
"Very good. So . . . how long did it take for them to get here?" Dana asked, with a tone that told him, 'think'.
"At least sixty-six years. They had no warp," Kirk answered just as assuredly.
"Yes. Now think, Mr. Kirk. Sixty-six years, what would that mean to the people on board, hmm?" Dana asked, urging Kirk on to think for himself.
"They would have aged, but with the Romulans life-span, that wouldn't be such a problem," Kirk answered.
"You're still not thinking, Kirk. What would age as well, besides the crew?" Dana probed.
"Uh . . . the ships?" Kirk asked more than answered, not knowing what she was getting at.
"Yes, the ships, but more importantly, what are the ships made of?" Dana asked again.
"Bulkheads, hull-plates, engines . . ." Kirk started.
"No! No! No!" Dana interrupted him, "Not so specific . . . Technology, Mr. Kirk. The ship's technology . . . Compare the technology we have now with the technology we had sixty-six years ago."
Kirk's face lighted up; he was starting to understand where she was going. "Their ships would have been obsolete."
"Exactly. And more than that, sixty-six years of never-ending space travel would have put a severe strain on their vessels. Their ships would be virtually falling apart by the hinges by the time they got here, and the ships back home would have been infinitely more superior. But there is more that ages with time, Mr. Kirk," Dana said, looking intently at him. Kirk stayed silent, racking his brain, but he couldn't come up with anything. "Come on, Kirk. What don you need before you can attack?"
Kirk though long and hard, then feebly answered, "I don't know."
"Think, Lieutenant. If you're going to attack, what do you want to know?" Dana asked him intently.
Kirk thought for a moment, then answered, "Intelligence reports. Intelligence reports age with time; they, too, would have been obsolete."
"Finally. So I ask you, why would the Romulans attack us with non-warp capable ships that would have been obsolete by the time they got here? Expecially since by the time they got here what they knew they were going to find would have been gone - the targets, the ships and their capacities would have been completely different? Which means the fleet they took with them would have been all wrong for what they would encounter, wouldn't it? Not to mention the fact, that they required massive resupply vessels and food carriers for a prolonged - say four years - war. Have you ever seen such vessels in historical records, Lt. Kirk?" Dana asked him pointedly.
"No, I haven't," Kirk said.
"Which must result in the simple conclusion that . . .?" Dana asked, before Kirk could add anything.
"That the Romulans did have warp drive. But why didn't they use it?" Kirk asked as if he had just had a revelation from god himself.
"The Romulans outnumbered us, didn't they?" Dana asked, smiling at him, urging him to figure it out himself.
Kirk's shocked face showed, he understood, "We would have to quickly build new vessels to equal them in numbers - building vessels without warp drive would have been faster. If we'd done that, we would have lost. They would have warped passed us to a virtually unprotected Earth. Thank god, we got lucky."
"Lucky?" Dana said, sighed deeply, then placed her elbows on the desk and rested her head in her heads. "What do I do with you, Mr. Kirk? I've shown you there's a meters thick concrete wall of secrets and half-truths with an equally thick locked door, in between you and the truth. I've unlocked the door for you, but you refuse to step through it." Dana waited for a few seconds then - when only silence came forth - added, "Why do you think we didn't stop building warp-capable ships, Mr. Kirk? Wouldn't it have been stupid to do otherwise?"
Kirk looked confused for a moment, then his face lighted up. "We knew . . . we knew the Romulans had warp drive. But why was it kept secret?" Kirk asked. "Wait, I know: to keep up morale. 'Look, we've got superior technology; we'll win this war yet'."
"Very good, Lieutenant. Now, do you understand that if you want to become a good starship captain, you can't fall for every little illusion? You'd fall in every dangerous situation or trap. Sometimes, in order to see the truth - and make the right decision - you must see thought a veil of lies, illusions, and half-truths. Do you understand that, Lieutenant?" Dana asked him.
Kirk nodded.
"Good. You're dismissed, Mr. Kirk. Go and contemplate what I just told you . . . Oh, and what you just learned is still secret, Lieutenant. No blabbing," Dana told him, wiggling her a warning index finger.
"Of course, sir. Thank you, sir," Kirk answered, and sipped away the last of the coffee that he had been drinking during the conversation.
~~X~~
Dana stood on the bridge, still looking at the little screen in front of her right eye. The trip was rather boring - once in a while there'd be a bump, sometimes even turbulence, but nothing that she considered interesting. She knew there had to be a lot people operating from within and in the badlands - like the pirate that tried to attack them before - but since the badlands heavily interfered with sensors, they could practically be skitting passed them and not notice. So, since it would still be more than a day before they reached the edge of the badlands, she let her mind wander.
~~X~~
2341
Romulus
"Palek," Scully said relaxed, as she placed herself next to him on the bench in the park and pulled her hood back.
"Dana," Palek answered, her true name given to him on one of their other encounters. He looked her over. The black robe covered her completely. Before she sat down, she had moved so silently - almost as if she had been gliding across the floor instead of walking - that he had almost expect the hood to reveal a skull, and scythe to appear from somewhere within the robe. He scolded himself -- the Human representation of 'Death' was one of the myths and legends of Humans that he had studied, so it could be used in their interrogations. It was a marvel what some - mostly spiritual or religious - Humans would say when faced with 'Death' himself. He should know Death arriving couldn't happen, but his time was short, he was over two hundred twenty years old; he was all too aware that death was creeping up on him.
"You've aged," Dana said coolly, as she appraised his greyed features.
"And you, as usual, have not," Palek answered, his voice laced with age, looking over Dana's features; the same ageless face looked back at him. Of course, there were a few changes, but they were not on behalf of time, but on behalf of a different identity. Her hair was blonde now - as opposed to the black hair she had last time - and unlike last time her hair was cut short, just long enough to move fingers through.
"You called for me?" Dana asked gently, looking around the park. In the dark it looked like any park on Earth; dark and foreboding, but she knew that during the day it would seem dull, almost greyish instead of the bright green colors of Earth.
He chuckled, then said, "We have a strange relation you and I, don't we? We trust each other totally, yet we distrust each other completely. We're the best of friends, yet bitter enemies."
"Respected enemies," Dana corrected, smiling at him.
He grinned back and nodded. "There's a Preator in power at the moment: Preator Dralath. He is very dishonorable, interested in power only and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants, which would most likely be the removal of the emperor and the royal family and him in power. He would even start wars, if that's what it would take to get his goal."
"Aah, and you would like him removed. But why, Palek, call me? It is not as if you haven't assassinated your share of people."
"The people I trusted are all dead or gone, Dana. Old age, retirement, accidents - some under suspicious circumstances . . . Only I remain. And there are those who would want nothing more than to have me removed as head of the Tal Shiar and themselves in that position. An attempt on the Preator's life is all they'd need to have me removed out of that position in some fashion," Palek explained slowly.
"I see . . . Is there a time table?"
"Ten years would be sufficient. I think I can keep him from doing anything big for that long," Palek answered.
"I take it, you'd like it to be an accident, or something natural?" Dana asked relaxed.
"That would be preferable."
"Consider him dead or dying," Dana answered coolly.
Palek looked to her a little startled. That last statement came from his back and he hadn't heard her getting up or walking. Of course she was no longer sitting on the bench. He looked behind and saw no sign of her. He smiled, got up and walked away, thinking, *And they say 'Death' is just a myth.*
*****
2 months later
A parade
The parade was set up to distract the general populace. There had already been several problems across the Star Empire and the general public was starting to grumble. What better way to appease the masses than to add a national holiday with a nice parade?
Finding out about the dormant genes in the Preator's genetic structure that could cause T'Shevat's syndrome was easy; creating the virus that would activate those genes just as easy. Adding this virus to the venom in the closest thing Romulus had to a bee only a little less easy, and getting the tiny piece of technology that was now on the insect's head and would control it was even easier, since she had already brought it with her. It was part of a ninja's standard equipment; not surprising since the technology existed since the 1990s. What caused her the most difficulty was modifying this little machine to control this Romulan insect instead of his Terran counterpart, but even that was done.
She still wore the same hooded robe and was hunched over like a little old lady, so she could watch the small screen on the machinery's controller without being noticed. The crowd around her was watching the parade, which was uncharacteristically colorful for Romulans. The Preator was on the other side of the street, siting on a risen podium, smiling broadly.
Dana maneuvered the insect to the Preator's neck. Once it landed, she pushed the button that would make the insect sting. The Preator moved his hand to slab the insect, but was too late to stop it from stinging his neck. Dana saw the Preator in the distance looking at his hand, which held the dead insect, then after muttering a few words - undoubtedly something along the lines of 'Damn, insect' - dropped it to the ground.
Dana pushed a second button on the controller. A few tiny force fields would drop inside the device, releasing a small amount - not much more than a drop - of acid, which would subsequently destroy the device completely. No sense in leaving any evidence, even if the chance of it ever being found was virtually non existent.
A little smile crept on her face, as she whispered, "Happy T'Shevat's syndrome, Preator."
"Excuse me, may I pass?" Dana croaked out, mimicking an old lady's voice. A few people moved aside. "Thank you," she said, grinning to herself. After a few more 'excuse mes', she stepped into an empty side street, gently rose up and walked away.
~~X~~
Things were going all right. They were starting to get close to the edge of the badlands and everybody who could was sleeping, standing and hanging on the console. Even Ensign Papen was out, his duties temporarily taken over by Kovar, who, as a Vulcan, could go far longer without sleep. Dana allowed herself no such luxury; she had to be ready if something threatened to go wrong.
*It's going to start soon,* Dana thought.
~~X~~
April 2161
Dreamland 2
Admiral Berman walked into the mountain complex, not knowing what to expect. A month ago, all national governments fell under a planetary one, and then this brand new planetary government fell beneath the United Federation of Planets government, a body known as the Federation council. All national military and intelligence agencies were disbanded with the governments and then united under the planetary government, making Earth Command - the joined platform those agencies had been working under since the first threat from the Romulans - a lot simpler: one navy, one intelligence agency, one space force, one army. No longer different agencies from different nations bickering over what to do. Then Earth Command itself was disbanded, to be replaced by an interplanetary organization named Starfleet; the joined exploratory and military organization of this new United Federation of Planets.
He had to admit, it was a grand plan, but he wasn't all too sure if it would work. Until just a few months ago there were still separate national governments, and not all nations were all that friendly toward other nations. And now not only would they have to be content with an planetary government, but also an interplanetary one, basically giving the Vulcans, Andorians and the other five races that made up this Federation some say in what happens on Earth.
Then his rank was changed to Admiral - since this Starfleet had no rank named General - and he was ordered to this place, Dreamland 2, by one of the few people who outranked him. That was strange in itself, because other than him, five lower ranking officers and Colonel Shane Dahmer, he hadn't thought anyone else even knew of this place. He was obviously wrong, since this place was practically buzzing with activity.
*Colonel Shane Dahmer,* he mused, abducted by the Romulans, presumed dead and at least unsalvageable, then suddenly a few months later she was standing in front of him again, demanding to know where her daughter was. At first he had thought she had been turned by the Romulans. The first attempt at capturing her proved futile; the operatives had been put unconscious before they had even come close to subduing her. A second attempt could never be started. Under threat of a sword, he had told her the address of the orphanage in which her daughter resided. Then he had tried reasoning with her, to make her see that the only way the Romulans would have let her go was if they had made her comply to their wishes. She had laughed at his comments and with chilling certainty she had answered, "If it wasn't for me, the Battle of Cheron wouldn't have been the end of the war, it would have been its rebirth." Then, when she was about to leave, he had asked her what she was going to do. Her answer: "I was thinking about a career change. I was thinking along the lines of a career in diplomacy; I've never been an Ambassador before." Then she had winked and was gone, all attempts at tracking her had failed, and he had no idea where she was now.
"Aah, Admiral Berman. It's good to see you," a familiar voice called out to him. He turned towards it and . . .
"Shane," he exclaimed in shock, recognizing her after a second. She may have changed her hair color to chestnut brown and taken a complete new haircut and wardrobe, but it was still her.
"Eh . . . you must confusing me with someone else, Admiral," Dana answered perfectly, sticking out her right hand for a handshake. "I'm Julie Duffield, Ambassador Julie Duffield."
Berman to her hand and shook and saw Dana wink at him rapidly. "Admiral Robert Berman," Berman said in order to keep up the facade Dana had prompted him.
"Well, Admiral, follow me," Dana said as she turned around and walked in the direction of the main operations lounge of Dreamland 2. "And may I say welcome to Section 31."
"Section 31?" Berman asked, confused. He looked at technicians upgrading Dreamland 2's systems. "I've never heard of Section 31, or seen it mentioned in any of the paperwork."
"That's because Section 31 does not exist, Admiral. And neither will you if you take this job," Dana answered him. "Some of the Ambassadors, including me, and several of the military officers thought that standard Starfleet Intelligence was not enough. We need something special; a section that could operate in the shadows, bending every rule right up to, but just short of, breaking them. A section manned by the best and the brightest, filled with those who would be willing to sacrifice anything for the security of the Federation and the principles for which it stands. In short: Section 31."
"What did you mean, with 'I won't exist'," Berman asked her intrigued.
Dana grinned and answered him, "If you take this job, all your records will be deleted. It is as if you were never born and officially you were never born. Every other member of Section 31 will be the same; either that, or they're dead and buried, right down to a grave with a rotting lifeless cloned body. And one of your tasks is to see it remains that way, should you take the job, of course."
"What would be my other tasks?"
"In the beginning Section 31's tasks will be mostly anti-terrorism, and this will undoubtedly remain one of Section's most important tasks. As time progresses espionage, infiltration and manipulation of foreign powers will become part of Section's tasks as well. This, of course, can already start with the Romulans. Listen to your junior officers, Admiral. Many of them have ingenious ideas; that's why they were recruited and further: anything you can come up with and think is necessary for the survival of the Federation. So, can I write you down as the first head of Section 31 or not?" Dana asked.
Berman thought for a moment, then answered, "Count me in."
"Good," Dana said. "Get to your office, I have prepared a very special briefing for you, that only you get to see. It will show you something nobody else knows, it has in part to do with my involvement in the Romulan war."
"Will you be here as well?" Berman asked.
"Oh, no! I've neglected Ellen enough during the war and setting up the Federation. As soon as Dreamland 2 is upgraded, I'm gone. I'll settle down somewhere in the country-side and devote as much of my time as possible to my daughter," Dana answered.
~~X~~