Chapter Seventeen

Somewhere en-route to Star base 93

James checked over his console one more time before he brought the old junk ship that Intel called a ship out of warp at the co-oridenents. Good god, what am I doing on this heap. I wouldn't be caught dead on this piece of sh… James thought to him self just as the 40 year old cargo ship dropped out of warp.

To James' surprise, no one was there. He double checked his sensors, but sure enough, he was the only ship with in senor range in this sector.

The rendezvous point was chosen by Starfleet Intelligence because it was where two early detection sensor platform's sensor fields were supposed to over lap, but one was intentionally moved slightly out of alignment so that there was a thousand kilometre gap were this meeting could take place undetected.

"Where are they?" James asked. He got up out of the pilots chair and walked over to the small replicator. "Coffee, two creams, one sugar." He ordered, and when the contraption didn't respond, James kicked the bulkhead below it and the beverage materialized. It tasted terrible, but he had had worse on the front lines. When I get home, I can't wait to brew some real coffee from Columbia. James thought as he sipped the swill that the replicator as given him.

James didn't have to wait long when a ship dropped out of warp. To James' surprise, it was a Norway-Class star ship, although it had signs of heavy battle damage that had been patched up, poorly. Bastards raided a battlefield. James thought as he did his best to hide the anger that was welling up inside him. But almost as soon as the ship entered the area it put James' cargo ship in a tractor beam and the hum of transporters filled his ear as his vision filled with blue light of the transporter effect.

James found himself in the brig of the other ship and staring at the bulkhead. He turned around to see three men behind the force field that kept him contained.

"Hello, you must be Tate, you'll excuse the abruptness of our action, but you must understand that the nature of our organization requires it. We're very picky about who we let into our ranks." One of the men said, which James had decided was most likely the leader. James stared right into his eyes for a few seconds before he responded, then he started looking around the cell that he was confined in.

"Nice ship you have here. Starfleet vessels are hard to obtain, especially now with the war and all." James finally said.

"You'd think so, do you like it? It was formally the USS Normandy. We salvaged her from where the 14th fleet was defeated." The man said in response.

"My own opinions on Starfleet aside, have you no respect for the dead? A Norway-class star ship crewed 150 men and women. This ship was their grave." James said tersely.

"The bodies we did find found their way into the hands of Starfleet. They may be our enemy, but once they're dead, they can do no harm to us, and they get our respect, I assure you." The man explained, then he paused, then his facial expression changed suddenly, like night and day, which gave James reason to believe that this man's mental stability was in question. His stance also reminded him of something, but he couldn't think of what it was. "You'd forgive me, I haven't introduced myself. My name's Mike Powel. I lead this merry lot of men that Starfleet dubbed 'The Legion'."

"It's nice to meet you. Now, to get down to the business at hand, how's about we get talking about what you need me to do." James said, getting increasingly nervous in his holding cell.

"First things first, I don't trust people I just met. I've prepared a little test." Mike said, moving behind the brig control desk and lowering the force field. He then motioned to one of his men who promptly left, then to another, who tossed me his phaser side-arm.

Then what happened next shocked him, but James some how managed to keep it from showing on his face. Two men walked back into the room holding a woman with her arms bound behind her back, they then tossed her into the center of the room before James' feet. Tina looked up at his face with the expression of someone scared for her life.

"She's Starfleet Intel. Kill her." Mike said coldly.

James looked at Mike, then back down at Tina, whose face changed to a serious expression as if to say "Do it". James, his heart thudding in his chest, lowered the phaser at Tina's head as she turned her head away wincing, and pressed the trigger.

The phaser's tip glowed, and then sputtered out.

"You should check your armoury, this phaser's faulty." James said, tossing it back to its owner. Tina just stayed there, kneeling, staring at the floor of the ships brig.

"Aaron, take Mr. Mackenzie to his quarters." Mike said to one of his men, who took James by the arm and escorted him out of the room. As soon as the door shut, Tina stood up and looked Mike in the eyes, and as tears welled up in her face, she slapped him.

"You did good. Better then I expected." Mike said, taking her into his arms.

"You ever do that again and I'll kill you." Tina said just as coldly has Mike was a few moments ago, and then she kissed him.

James looked around his quarters while pacing back and forth thinking over what just happened in the brig. What the hell is going on here? James thought. And what the hell is Tina doing here? Then a thought crossed his mind, which sent a shiver down his spine. No, can't be that. He thought as he shook his head in hopes of clearing his mind of the though that Tina could be a member of The Legion.

He sat down on his bed and looked out the window as he noticed that the ship just jumped to warp, and that his freighter was cruising right along side, then the door opened to reveal Aaron, the guard that had brought James to his quarters, which were so small, that it was the type that four Starfleet cadets would share during their academy cruise just before graduation.

"Come with me, dinner is being served in the mess hall." He ordered.

"Can't I have it brought here?" James asked, not really wanting to go.

"Our leader likes to have everyone on the same shifts to have their meals together, now let's go." Aaron said, putting his hand on his hip just above the phaser holstered there. James knew that he could jump the young man and knock the guy out before he could even lay a finger on his phaser, but that would serve no purpose, so he decided to play along.

"Interesting way of doing things, what brought this about?" James asked plainly.

"I don't really know myself. All I know that it's what our leader wants. Personally I think it has something to do with him being an ex-Starfleet Marine." Aaron said. Then it struck James. No wonder his stance seemed familiar. You can take the marine out of the Corps, but you can't take the Corps out of the marine. Semper Fi my ass. James thought, anger welling up inside him.

Since it was a small ship, it didn't take long to reach the mess hall, where a long table was set up in the center with eight or so chairs lining each side. Mike Powel was at the head of that table close to the door opposite the one that James had just entered. He stood up and offered him the chair immediately to his left.

"Glad that you could join us, Mr. Mackenzie, I do hope you enjoy your meal. It's not much, but you understand that a group like ours doesn't have access to the resources that a trader such as yourself is used too." He explained, as the galley cook brought out the meal, which consisted of replicated vegetables and a stew that James could only guess as to what its ingredients were.

"I've had worse." James said, wincing on the inside as he remembered what field rations tasted like. James always wondered, through centuries that the Marine Corps has been in service, first being the military arm of the United States Navy, later evolving into its current role as Starfleet's fighter pilots and ground assault forces, why the hell they hadn't perfected the taste. Mike just smirked.

"I've seen your Starfleet record before they gave you the boot. You fought a couple ground battles with Klingons before the War started. Field rations always sucked."

James acted like he was remembering something, staring at the table in front of him, tracing the artificial scar on his face. The rest of the dinner was pretty quiet, with only a few conversations between the others at the table. James decided it was best to stay out of them, in hopes to avoid questions that might expose his cover. Then mercifully the end of the evening came as Mike Powel rose to leave the table.

"Get some sleep tonight Tate, tomorrow we go over our plans, and you go on your way." He told him, then briskly turning and exiting the room. The rest of the room stared at James for a moment, and then they all shuffled off going about their own business, leaving just Aaron and James in the room.

"C'mon, let's go." The guard said, motioning towards the door. The walk back to his quarters seemed to be shorter, as all return trips seemed to be, until they finally reached their destination. James laid down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling and forced himself to doze off. He didn't get much rest this night.