"Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?" Jones bellowed at Zatara, "Striking one of my officers on my station?! Have you lost your mind?"
Meps and Zatara sat in the brig. She found herself grateful for the forcefield that separated them from Commander Jones, as it kept the spital flying from his mouth from landing on her.
"With respect," Meps piped up, "It was me who-"
"QUIET!" Jones barked, "I'll deal with you in a moment."
"No," Meps responded, rising to his feet, "You'll deal with me now. I'm only just now finding out that he was one of your officers, which makes this far worse."
"You're damn right, it does," Jones answered.
"I mean for you," Meps said, "He used a racial slur when referring to my commanding officer, not to mention the attempt to force her to dance with him. Is that the kind of behavior you condone in your officers?"
"It is," Zatara answered, catching on to Meps' play, "He called me by the same racial slur in our meeting earlier today."
Meps shook his head, "Seems to me, Commander, that your crew might be facing a complaint. Starfleet heavily frowns on racism."
"I was going to put it in my official report," Zatara said, "But maybe, now that he sees how it has influenced his crew, the Commander might be persuaded to do some introspection."
Jones opened and closed his mouth several times. Each time he lost more color in his face.
"And he just let you go?" Zap asked.
Meps shrugged, "He didn't really have a choice. No offense, Zap, but your commander is a bit of a coward."
"Former commander," Razib said, walking into the ward room, "And you're right, he is a coward."
"Come on, Doc," Zap replied, "That's not really fair."
"Oh? What was it he said to you when you wanted to go after that known smuggler who you were certain had bio-mimetic gel in his cargo hold?"
Zap sighed, "That he was too well connected and that it would be too big a risk to search his ship."
"In any case," Zatara said, "We're all here, so let's go over our next steps."
Meps smirked, "That's easy. We need to get to our ship."
Zatara barely kept the surprise off of her face. Razib and Zap, however, both openly gawked.
"We have a ship?" Zap asked.
Meps nodded, "We do." He stood and walked to the display screen. Tapping the controls, he brought up the schematics for the ship in question. Then he turned to the others.
"It's a Rapier class vessel. It's a variation on the Saber class. Though, to be honest, the design has enough differences that I personally don't think it should be called a variant. But ours is a variation still. We have more torpedo bays, more powerful phaser banks, and most importantly, a cloaking device."
"Wait," Zap said, "A cloaking device? That's extremely illegal."
"Only for Starfleet," Zatara said, "The Treaty of Algernon is the only thing limiting Federation research into cloaking technology. The Defiant has had one for years, but they technically were only allowed to use it in the Gamma Quadrant. I can tell you from personal experience that it was treated as a suggestion as opposed to a rule."
"Not to mention," Razib chimed in, "Section 31 operates extra-legally."
"True," Meps ceded, "We'll head for the ship. She doesn't have an official name, but I've taken to calling her the Classified. We're about two days from where she's parked, so we'll head in that direction and plan things on the way."
Meps Personal Log: Stardate 52921.6: Things seem to be going well so far. Zap, while an unexpected addition to this crew of misfits, has been a joy to be around. Razib is aloof and reserved, unless he's cutting loose in the mess hall. Seriously, how the hell does he make that moonshine? He and Kalces seem to have bonded over their shared love of Tongo. Zap and I have spent a lot of time talking about theoretical battle tactics, both large and small. The man is, quite frankly, a brilliant tactician. It's a pretty major oversight that we came here only to get Dr. Razib. Zap is every bit as valuable, and I am glad we managed to stumble into the great young man. My relationship with Kalces remains professional, if slightly strained. I wonder if I made a fatal error with her when I punched out that guy on K7. She's very self reliant, and I worry that she might have seen my actions as trying to protect her rather than a desire to punch out a bigot. If there's one thing she doesn't need, it's a 'white knight'. I've talked with all of the crew members separately about our mission and brought the pieces to her. She has come up with what I believe is a brilliant plan, but a few kinks still need to be worked out.
All four members of the crew were on the bridge when the Nile approached the Classified. The ship was largely flat with two nacelles sticking up at forty-five degree angles away from the ship. The most distinguishing aspect by far was the color. The entire ship was so black that it stood out even against the background of space.
"Gentlemen, and lady," Meps announced, "I give you the Classified. Eight torpedo bays, sixty-six phaser emitters capable of over six megawatts each divided among six phaser cannons, a state of the art cloaking device, and a top speed of warp factor nine point nine seven."
"Tough little ship," Razib noted.
"Little?" Meps asked, a touch defensively
"In any case," Zatara said forcefully, "We have a job to do. Let's dock and get situated. Planning meeting at twelve hundred hours."
"It seems we have most of a plan," Zatara said, "We're just missing a few small elements."
The crew sat in the mess hall of the small ship. The warship had been designed around maximum efficiency. Though they each had their own rooms, that was down to the small size of their crew. Each room had several bunks. There was no space for personal belongings other than clothes and toiletries if there was a full crew. But, given the reduced nature of the crew, everyone had room to spread out.
"The target," Meps said, pulling up an image of a Ferengi on the display, "Is Lark Z'Braksis, head of the Z'Braksis corporation. He runs, among other things, the largest pergium mining operation in the quadrant. There have been quite a few operations to weaken the structure of the corporation as a whole. The assassination of Lark is the last piece. He has no heirs and hasn't named anyone to replace him as head of the company should he be unable to fulfill his duties. With him dead, the company will have no leadership, which will trigger an automated sell off. Ironically, in an effort to make himself indispensable to the company, he's made himself the perfect target."
"And why does Section 31 care?" Razib asked.
"Good question," Meps answered, "The Tigan family used to be a major player in pergium mining. They have been encouraged to, when this sell off happens, purchase the mining interests of the Z'Braksis corporation. That, plus the mining interests they already control, will give them a virtual monopoly on pergium mining. They also, as a Trill family with a daughter in Starfleet, are much more Federation friendly."
"Encouraged how," Zap asked.
"We have an asset who is an advisor to Yanas Tigan, the matriarch of the family," Meps answered, "Not to mention that the moment Z'braksis falls, there will be lenders ready to lend to the Tigan family at very favorable rates."
"So what is the plan?" Razib asked.
Zatara answered, "Members of Section 31, posing as legal counsel for a Cardassian based business, have set up a meeting. I'll be going in as a representative of the company. The three of you will be my staff."
"This is his compound," Meps said, pulling up a map, "It's on a moon of a remote class Y planet. The moon itself is class L. The compound is about seventeen hundred meters across. It has state of the art weapons detection tech, as well as a dampening field that will make phaser fire and transport impossible. His office is at the back end, bordering on the cliffs."
"What is the plan to actually kill him," Razib asked.
Zatare smiled, "This is where our combined expertise comes into play. I am working on a poison that will be undetectable. It'll look like a heart attack. You're going to fit it into a projectile hypospray."
Razib nodded, "You mean like the one I created on Volan III. But how will you deliver it?"
"Say hello to the TR-116 Rifle," Meps said as he laid the weapon on the table in front of them, "This weapon was developed by Starfleet as a way to get around dampening fields, exactly like the one we'll be dealing with. It uses a chemical propellant to fire a piece of tritanium, called a bullet, into its target."
"Okay," Razib said, "but that doesn't solve the problem of getting close to him."
"But this does," Zatara chimed in, holding up an eyepiece and placing it on the table next to the rifle, "That is an exographic targeting sensor. It's linked to a micro transporter on the barrel of the rifle. When you pull the trigger, the transporter activates. One side of the transport is just after the barrel, but the other side is determined by the sensor."
"What's the range?" Zap asked.
Meps and Zatara shared a look. "Just under fifteen hundred meters," Meps answered.
"That means we can't reach him from outside his compound," Razib noted, "What are the chances of smuggling the weapon in?"
Meps let go of a breath, "Not great. With the weapon detection systems I mentioned, even an unregistered prototype is likely to be picked up."
"Wait," Zap said, studying the map, "What kind of security does he have posted on the cliff side?"
Zatara looked where Zap's finger pointed and could see that the estate bordered right up to a massive cliff.
"Mostly anti-air weapons," Meps said, looking at his report, "What's your point?"
"I can do it," Zap said, "I can climb the cliff outside on the north side of his mansion. I can easily get close enough to take the shot."
"Really?" Zatara asked.
"Yeah," he answered, "It's a hallmark of my race. Climbing cliffs is actually stupid easy for us. Like one of you going for a jog."
"Wait," Meps said, "Zap, have you ever taken a life?".
Zap looked indigent, "I have been a tactical officer for years. I fought in the Dominion War."
Meps shook his head, "That's not what I mean. Have you ever watched the life leave the eyes of a sentient being as you held the instrument of their execution?"
Zap didn't answer.
"Almost twenty years ago," Meps said, his eyes unfocused, his gaze faraway, "I saw a woman on Vulcan. She had the typical angular Vulcan haircut, and wore the robes they're known for. Hers were slightly downplayed, with less decoration and embroidering than I'm used to seeing. The most interesting thing about her, at least to me, was the dirt under her nails and in her cuticles, the kind that builds up over years that you can never totally get rid of. I remember thinking that she must have had a lifelong interest in gardening. Her eyes were blue, uncommon in Vulcans. Her eyes had an enchanting quality, almost playful in their sparkle. I think about those eyes a lot."
Zap shrugged, "Why?"
Meps' eyes focused hard on Zap's, "Because she was the first person I ever killed. That visage will haunt me forever. I don't want the one that haunts you to be some Ferengi."
Meps reached for the rifle, but Zap's hand slapped down over the shaft. He glared at the older man. A moment of tension hung in the air.
"Sir," he said, derisively, "You should know something about me. I was born in war. I was raised in it. It shaped me, molded me. I didn't know what it was to be at peace until I was almost an adult. My own brother died in battle. I realize that I didn't come to be here by normal means, but I'm not some child you need to protect. In fact, if you recall, when we first met I kicked you into a bulkhead."
Meps withdrew his hand from the rifle, "After showing you were more observant than any security officer I've ever dealt with before."
Zap lifted the gun, "Exactly. There are a few things I'm good at. This is one of them."
The other three stared at Zap in awe. Finally, Zatara spoke.
"Alright, it seems we have a plan. The meeting is scheduled for two days from now. Doctor, is that enough time to modify a projectile to deliver my poison."
"More than enough," Razib said, "And I assume we don't want any evidence left behind."
"That's correct," Meps answered, "We're trying to be as discreet as possible, but keep in mind that it's not a priority. Lark's death is the main goal, everything else is icing on the cake."
"Excellent," Zatara said, "Razib, you'll be acting as a doctor on our outing. I want it to look like we tried to help but were unsuccessful."
"That's remarkably easy to do," Razib said.
"Good," Zatara said, "Razib, work on modifying your delivery method. Zap, familiarize yourself with that gun. You're only going to get one shot. For now, dismissed."
You have one new message
Zatara tapped the icon and a video started playing. Garak stood in front of what was clearly a construction sight.
"Hello my sister," he said, "As you can see, rebuild efforts are going well. Thanks to the Federation, we've been able to house the vast majority of refugees. Sloan tells me that you'll be helping our rebuild efforts along. Of course, he won't tell me exactly how, but a simple tailor knows how these things go. This plot I'm standing on is a planned sight for a statue commemorating Damar."
Everything stopped. Zatara's entire world froze. Damar. Were he alive, would he be the pious leader that everyone expected? Maybe. Would he have her? She really wanted to say maybe, but she knew the answer was no. He was too dedicated to his image to be with her. She felt herself spinning out of control. She needed something solid to hold on to.
Meps. He was a solid foundation. He had been since she met him.
"Kalces to Meps."
"Meps here," came the answer.
"Come to my quarters," she said before closing the channel.
In mere moments, he was standing there.
"Come in," she ordered. He did so without question.
She grabbed him by the shoulders and guided him to the bed.
"Sit," she commanded. He did so.
"Remove your uniform." She ordered.
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "What?"
"You heard me," she said, "Remove your uniform."
Meps stood, "No."
Zatara put a hand on his chest and pushed hard. He stumbled back onto the bed.
"Do it," she growled, "Take off your fucking uniform!"
Meps stood again and, with one hand on her chest and the other cupping her chin, forced her back against the wall, "I said no. I don't know what kind of bullshit you're going through, I also don't care. I'm not your fuck doll. You don't get to just use me to make yourself feel better. Figure your shit out, Kalces, or Section 31 won't have a place for you."
He released her. There was a tense moment as neither person was sure quite how to proceed. Finally, Meps straightened his uniform jacket. He stared at her as he left. Zatara watched him go as she vowed vengeance.