Voices

All too serene was the surface of Paradise, even in the midst of civil war elsewhere in Federation space. Particularly all too serene was the Council and Government District, in spite of increased security measures. Towering above all other skyscrapers within the nearby horizon was the near-pyramidal seat of Federation power itself.

It is nighttime, and somewhere inside this colossal structure is a combined museum and virtual library. It is unusual to have people inside this particular place – especially during closed hours. Yet there they were: an old man in an anti-grav chair, a security entourage, and a young lady. These were no ordinary group of people, for the old man was the Federation's leader himself, with his niece and security personnel.

One would assume that they were there for the purposes of Federation security, and yet even this state library-museum would seemingly have nothing to offer in that aspect. This was certainly the thought that the young lady, Subcommander Cheryl Augusta Major, was entertaining.

This had better be related to my Section 31 investigation!

The old man, meanwhile, saw right through his dear niece, through her curiosity, and through her frustrations.

"Why do you want to see me in this late hour - and here of all places?"

Perhaps the only thing he did not anticipate was the way she worded her question. He was hoping she would mention something about her investigation.

Why didn't you mention your investigation? Or are you so close that you don't want to tell me the little things? Why?

Was she really close to her goal of exposing and dismantling the "non-existent" organization, after all? Perhaps the information he had for her would help.

"I've got good news for you to report to your new colleagues at Starfleet Security."

Really? I wonder why you, of all people, would get me back on track. Aren't you busy with the civil war?

Then she saw her uncle turn to his security entourage and give them a head signal – one indicative of his desire for them to go back to the front door, leaving him and his niece in private. The guards nodded, and went on their way.

Meanwhile, the two of them proceeded towards a restricted-access room within the library-museum. Inside the room, what were once expressions of curiosity on Subcommander Major's face melted away and revealed a state of outright confusion.

"While the Trust has been doing its thing, Thomas Rutledge's special taskforce has acquired a first, solid lead on Section 31."

What? That upstart Extraordinary Commission for State Security beat me to the punch? What the hell…?

So much for the confusion, which melted away just as fast into an anger barely under control by a voice in her head.

Quick! Acknowledge what he said! He shouldn't have to know about your frustrations regarding the inflexibility and ineptitude of the Starfleet Security bureaucracy! He's too burdened with the civil war!

"Finally…" she squeaked.

"More on that tomorrow in my office - but that wasn't the reason why I wanted you here," the old man replied in a calm voice. A long pause followed.

Huh? He summons me here – of all places – tells me he's got a lead on Thirty-One's machinations, and then NOTHING? What the hell's going on here?

Subcommander Major was in the middle of conjuring more thoughts to the forefront of her attention when she saw her uncle was about to speak, and turned her attention towards him.

"You do know that this finding has only strengthened my skepticism of Starfleet Security. Either they're truly incompetent…"

So you do know about them, after all…

"… The belief of which I am only beginning to discount - or perhaps they're feigning such in order to obtain the perfect excuse they need to be another security organization to be granted the power of resorting to extraordinary measures."

A look of shock overtook Subcommander Major's face, as if a shuttle ran over her.

How could you be that cynical? Have the years and the war finally taken a toll on you?

Perhaps this particular thought could be re-phrased… perhaps.

"But…"

A look of concern cast itself upon the old man's face. Perhaps it was time to reveal his cognizance of his own niece's frustrations, before she would be as psychologically burdened as he.

"Even you are beginning to become frustrated working with them, maneuvering around their own little bureaucracy - right?"

"I don't know what to make of this," sighed his niece.

Indeed – what to make not just about Starfleet Security's inflexibility, ineptitude, and now outright incompetence, but also about his intimate knowledge of YOUR burdens. Perhaps his cynicism WILL be your psychological redemption.

Listening to that voice in her head, Subcommander Major wanted to her more of her uncle's cynicism.

"It's 'human nature' - as was once said - to desire more power, in anything."

Like I haven't heard that before…

"The people in Starfleet Security and the agents of Section 31 are, in truth, more similar than most people know."

Alright, I've got my own psychological burdens, but you are way out to lunch on left field!

"The only real difference lies in how much they can wiggle around in order to achieve their goals."

Perhaps his cynicism isn't so redemptive, after all…

"Section 31? Its people care only about power for its own sake!" snapped the young lady.

An average old uncle would have rebuked an average niece for shouting at him, but these two individuals were beyond that. At a basic level, the Federation's leader had to move on calmly with what he had to say – which would undoubtedly shock her even further.

"Well, I think that now is the right time to explain why you and I are here in this restricted-access chamber of the library-museum, where a lot of state secrets are hidden until ready for de-classification. Do you remember the Organian Peace Treaty?"

What does this have to do with Section 31? Perhaps something dismissive to end this wasteful time will do!

"That was elementary-school material!"

Seeing beyond his niece's obvious frustrations, the old man felt a sense of duty to continue.

"You remember Kenneth Wescott, the one who preceded Lorne McLaren as Federation president?"

Alright, so that remark didn't work. Perhaps ano…

"See... Wescott, who presided during the rather brief Klingon-Federation war, was himself an agent of Section 31."

Mere words could not describe the shock engulfing Subcommander Major, as she confronted the voice in her head.

Is he telling the truth, or has he gone crazy? I don't know what words to say!

Perhaps only one word will suffice.

One word…

"What?"