Based On STAR TREK Created by Gene Roddenberry
Original Characters created by Jason Cleaver and Derrick Ferguson
The door chime seemed excessively loud and intrusive and Captain Rochelle Burton made a mental note to have Maintenance come to her office and check it out after the meeting to check it out. Of course, it could be just that she was not used to dealing with representatives of Starfleet Intelligence and nervousness made the door chime seem louder than normal. She had more than enough to do as commanding officer of Starbase 212 and dreaded being caught up in the labyrinthine games SI seemed to delight in. Starbase 212 was located in the Tertius system. Not a terribly vital one and certainly not anywhere near important enough to warrant the interest of Starfleet Intelligence. Rochelle didn’t know whether she should be flattered or worried.
“Come.”
The two SI representatives entered, dressed in neat, plain civilian clothing. The first was a thin-faced youth with hooded brown eyes and dark hair worn in what struck Rochelle as being an almost theatrical manner. He seemed barely old enough to be an Ensign, let alone a seasoned SI agent. The second operative was a Vulcan. Slightly taller than the average Vulcan, with dark auburn hair and a trim yet stocky build.
“Welcome to Starbase 212, gentlemen. Please have a seat. I'm Captain Rochelle Burton. Before we start the briefing, may I see your credentials?”
Both men held out their right hands and Rochelle passed a special tricorder over them. SI agents had implants that could not be duplicated and were undeniable proof of an SI agent's identity. Satisfied that her visitors were who they said they were, Rochelle waved them to seats and offered refreshments.
“Nothing, thank you, Captain. The Liberator will be arriving in three hours and we'd best put you in the picture as to what's going on.”
“I’d greatly appreciate that. As you might imagine we don’t get many visits from Starfleet Intelligence way out here.”
The human sat down and the Vulcan remained standing. Rochelle had the uncomfortable feeling she wasn't going to like this briefing at all.
“I'm Taylor Smith and this is my partner, Stolath. We're here under the direct orders of Kieron Olsen, Director of Starfleet Operations in this sector. We've got a difficult job to do and it's my hope you'll provide us with your fullest co-operation.”
“Of course...whatever assistance I can provide I’ll be more than happy to do so.”
“Excellent.” Smith crossed his legs. “How much do you know about the situation on the planet Hebigo?”
Rochelle shrugged. “Not all that much. Hebigo is in the neighboring star system, out of the sphere of influence of my base. But from what I know, Hebigo had a civil war that’s lasted for fourteen years. At the end, the ruling class was ousted from power and a new government was put in place.”
Smith nodded. “Hebigo was ruled for over five thousand years by the technocratic elite who used their advanced technology to create what they considered to be a perfect world. However, that perfection didn't extend to the rest of the population who were forced to live in a pre-industrial state. Except for the ruling class, who call themselves High Lords and number about five thousand, the rest of the population are still using electricity and burning fossil oils for energy.”
Rochelle murmured, “Incredible. How'd the populace manage to overthrow these High Lords?”
Stolath took it upon himself to answer that one. “The leaders of the revolution contacted a number of known criminals who have been smuggling weapons and technology to them for years now. Much of this contraband is forbidden in Federation space.”
“Do we know who these criminals are?”
“Of course. Some of them have been captured. Some were killed. Others, upon learning that SI had become involved, simply stopped smuggling to the Hebigon and moved on.”
“So just why is Starfleet Intelligence involved?”
The ball was back in Smith's lap as he answered; “The High Lords have been working with Starfleet Intelligence for some time now. We've had an unofficial agreement to exchange technology with them. The High Lords have quite a remarkable technology that is partially dependent on their considerable telekinetic and telepathic abilities. The High Lords can actually reshape their machines to perform quite remarkable tasks that almost seem...well, magical.”
Stolath frowned slightly. “Magical is an oversimplification...The High Lords simply have a technology that takes advantage of their natural abilities. It is only logical that a race of telepaths/telekenetics would develop machines that respond to such abilities.”
Rochelle was hooked now, curious despite her initial worries and misgivings. “Do the rest of the population have these abilities?”
Smith shook his head. “Only the High Lords and they only developed them through generations of genetic engineering. Not being a Federation affiliated world, gengineering is not a crime there.”
“I'm only confused about one thing...why is Starfleet Intelligence involved in the affairs of a non-affiliated planet?”
Smith's smile was shark-like as he answered; “Because Starfleet Intelligence is going to assist the High Lords in regaining control of Hebigo.”
Eve Susan Mallory stared into the mirror, carefully fixing the new gold pip to her throat, replacing the third black one. Not bad Evie…matter of fact, it looks pretty damn good on you… She straightened the new uniform with its gold stripes then turned away from the mirror to resume her packing. She had almost everything, except... She hunted around the bed. “Cait?” She called, “Have you seen my sleep shirt?”
A seventeen-year-old girl as thin as a lost and wandering spirit entered the room, a big white t-shirt dangling from her hands. “Got it right here.” She handed the bundle to Eve. “You all done?”
Eve paused to stare pensively at her three bags. Didn't seem much for seventeen years, really. “Pretty much,” She replied, looking up at her adopted daughter. “What about you?”
Caitlyn Mallory shrugged. “R'etar and I moved the last of it into my new quarters a few minutes ago.” Eve was still looking at her. “What's wrong?”
Eve shook her head, turning her gaze back to the bags and tucking the sleep shirt away. “Nothing. It's fine.”
Caitlyn came up behind the older woman and reached out to clasp her upper arm. “Mom, I'll be fine. I promise.”
Eve still didn't look at her. Suddenly she was finding the bag she was closing absolutely fascinating. “I know you will.” Her voice sounded slightly choked. Caitlyn gently turned Eve around, reaching out to gently raise her mother's face. Eve's eyes were swimming with unshed tears. Her own heart jerked in response. “I'm going to miss you too, Mom.” She said, her voice cracking at the end. Eve’s response was to throw her arms around the girl and envelop her in a tight hug. Caitlyn responded in kind, feeling the tears well up in her own eyes. For long minutes, mother and daughter lost themselves in tears, and the other's comforting embrace.
Eve pulled away first, reaching out to wipe tear streaks from her daughter's cheeks. “Are you sure you won't come with me?” she asked. “You can go to school just as well on the Crazy Horse.”
Caitlyn nodded. “I know. I just...” She sighed gustily. “I have to stay here, Mom. I can't explain it.” Knowing she couldn't put the reasons into words, knowing that one of the only two people in the Galaxy who would understand was standing in front of her.
Eve nodded. “I know you can't, sweetheart.” And she did. Caitlyn’s arrival into the world had been unusual to say the least, and her true heritage was even more so. Something that was only just starting to emerge in all sorts of strange ways. She had been charged with the girl's upbringing, something she hadn't known how to deal with at first; having a near-newborn baby shoved into arms had been frightening at first, but she wasn't sure she would have gotten through the trials and hardships of the Grail’s ten year mission without her. It would be hard to be without Caitlyn’s stabilizing presence, but quite apart from anything else, the girl would have to learn to face the galaxy on her own.
She just wished it didn't hurt quite so much.
The door chime went off. “It's open!” Eve called.
Her visitor stepped in. A blond woman in her early fifties, still very attractive with blue eyes as clear as a pool of mountain water and a bouncy, vibrant confidence in her walk. JoAnn St. John was the senior station Counselor and over the last few years had come to be good friends with Eve and Caitlyn.
“Thought I'd come by and offer you a farewell drink before you leave. Got time?”
Eve nodded. “The Crazy Horse won't arrive for another two hours.”
Caitlyn separated from her mother and headed for the door, passing JoAnn in the doorway. “I'm gonna go get my quarters tidied up,” she said. “I'll see you before the Crazy Horse ships out, OK?”
Eve nodded. The door slid shut behind Caitlyn and Eve smiled at JoAnn. “I'd so glad you came by,” She said. “I'd have hated to leave without thanking you for all you've done for both of us. It’s been a long time since I met a Counselor I could really talk to.”
JoAnn sat on the couch and waved a slim hand in dismissal. “I didn't do all that much. Your physical and psychological evaluations were all done on Earth. I just provided a friendly ear.”
“And that was exactly what I needed, not just another double domed headshrinker. I'm not sure I'll find another friend like you where I'm going.”
“How do you feel about that...oops, there I go being a Counselor again...”
Eve laughed softly. “No...it's all right, really. How do I feel? Nervous. Exhilarated. Downright scared. Excited. Ready to get back to work. Ready to get back…out there.” She paused. “Sad at leaving Caitlyn behind.”
“It's not too late to change your mind, you know. With your scientific qualifications, Rochelle would be more than happy to keep you on here.”
Eve shook her head. “No. Caitlyn was right. We need to figure out what we're going to do with the rest of our lives...in my case a very LONG life and I can do that best by getting back out into space and getting back to work.”
JoAnn nodded. The discovery that Eve hadn't aged a single day in the 18 years since her replication had unnerved a lot of people, including Eve herself. The only person who didn't seem to give a damn was Caitlyn. JoAnn looked forward to talking with the girl without her mother around so as to accurately gauge how Caitlyn really felt about the current situation. Eve was very protective of Caitlyn, which JoAnn couldn't really blame her for. Caitlyn Amarantha Mallory was an outgoing and captivating young woman who made friends easily and charmed everyone who met her. But the Counselor couldn't help but notice that just underneath the cheerful exterior something else lurked, something that she couldn't name just yet. It would manifest itself in subtle ways; Caitlyn stubborn insistence on remaining on the Starbase in the face of considerable opposition from her mother was just the latest.
“Have you decided how much of yourself you're going to tell people?” She asked.
Eve grinned at her. “Well, I'm not going to run around introducing myself as 'Hi, I'm Eve Mallory and I'm a Replicant! She paused, her expression darkening again. “I learned that lesson on the Grail.” She seemed to throw off the mood and the grin returned to her face. “Even if Starfleet Headquarters hadn't ordered me to keep my...unique condition to myself, I'd still do it. Causes too many problems. The rest of my bio is enough to give anyone who reads it fits anyway.”
JoAnn shrugged. “Didn't matter to me,” She replied. “But before this conversation gets too heavy, let's go get that drink!” She put a grin on her face; anything to get her friend away from the subject of the Grail and its mission.
Eve nodded and turned to put her bags by the door. JoAnn watched her. A slim woman, barely an inch or two over five feet with the reddest hair JoAnn had ever seen and a bright, engaging way about her, JoAnn sincerely hoped that once she took her position as First Officer of the Crazy Horse and got back out into space, among her beloved stars, that Eve would find the peace that had eluded her for such a long time....
Rochelle Burton frowned as she replied carefully and slowly, “Isn't Starfleet Intelligence forgetting about a little something called The Prime Directive?”
Stolath said, “In this case, The Prime Directive does not apply, Captain. First off, The High Lords approached us about a technological exchange. In addition, we have Federation citizens who are criminals who are making profit from the Hebigo civil war. Clearly, SI has an obligation to prevent these elements from interfering in the conflict.”
“I see your point. So how can I help?”
“We'll be using Starbase 212 as our base to co-ordinate capture of the remaining smugglers at large. There's only five left that make regular runs to Hebigo. Papilla of Rugoth. Lugar Fym. Vol of Ferengenar. Waranger The Hungry. Denys Fotheran.”
“Fotheran? The Liberator reported they were in pursuit of him a short time ago.”
“We know. We also know that Fotheran escaped, blowing off the Liberator’s port nacelle while doing so.”
“What?” Rochelle was stunned. “It was my understanding that Fotheran's ship is a freighter, not a warship. Where'd he get the firepower to do that? And why didn't Rutledge inform me of this?”
Smith smiled thinly. “We intercepted his transmission. I made my identity known to Captain Rutledge and I ordered him to keep silent about the extent of his damages until he could report to you personally.”
Rochelle frowned. “I don’t know if I like you monitoring this base’s transmissions or ordering my captains not to make a proper report to me.”
Smith bowed his head in what might have been some form of apology but Rochelle Burton quickly dismissed that notion as he said, ‘its standard procedure for any active Starfleet Intelligence agent to monitor all transmissions to and from a Starbase. As you yourself know, it’s notoriously hard for secrets to be kept. Somebody is always going to talk when they shouldn’t. I was just trying to minimize the chances of a spy on the base being tipped off.”
Rochelle snorted in derision. “Take it from me, half the Starbase knows about it already and by the time the Liberator gets back the other half will know. Does this Fotheran have help? Maybe another ship...”
“Rutledge claims that somehow, Fotheran redirected the Liberator’s own photon torpedoes right back at them. Rutledge had to eject the nacelle before the warp core blew and he's limping back here under impulse power.”
“It would seem to me that this man Fotheran is a lot more dangerous than your ordinary smuggler.”
“It's safe to say that after this incident, Denys Fotheran's capture has become my major priority. Not only is he interfering with Starfleet Intelligence operations on Hebigo, but he is also helping to continue a destructive and costly civil war. He simply cannot be permitted to remain free and at large.”
“How do you propose to capture him?”
“There are three ships on their way here now. The Relentless, The Yucatan and The Crazy Horse. They are going to be charged with the task of capturing Fotheran once and for all. No matter how resourceful he is, he can't hope to take on three starships and win. Especially when one of them is a Galaxy Class.”
“And how do you intend to restore the High Lords to power?”
“Ah...now THAT's quite another story....”
Eve and JoAnn walked into the spacious lounge with the giant transsteel windows looking out into the docking port. A number of ships were attached by umbilicals, undergoing repairs while their crews enjoyed shore leave. The lounge was unusually crowded this time of day and the hum of gossip filled the air.
Eve was curious. “I wonder what's going on? Seems like everybody's waiting for something....
JoAnn nodded. “Hey, Claude!” the man she called turned around. Claude Baskin was the Assistant Security Chief of the station. He waved and ambled over.
“Hi, Jo...Eve...have you heard the scuttlebutt?”
“Has it got to do with why everybody's here?”
“Damn right. The Liberator was chasing some backworld smuggler named Fotheran. Somehow, Fotheran got the drop on Rutledge and blew holy hell out of the Liberator. She had to eject one of her nacelles and half the ship's systems are scrap.”
“Who's Fotheran?” Eve asked.
“Denys Fotheran. A thief, a smuggler and after today, probably the man who’s going to set new warp speed records for getting out of Federation space. Everybody's waiting for the Liberator to come back in.”
“Is he that dangerous?”
“Now he is. The grapevine says that Starfleet Intelligence is involved in his capture now.”
Eve laughed. “Sounds to me like they should recruit him instead. Who are they sending to capture him now?”
Baskin's smile was sly as he said, “I've said too much already. I think I'll let that be a surprise.” He winked at Eve and walked off.
Eve's mouth dropped open in surprise. Surely Baskin couldn't mean that the Crazy Horse would be….
NAH…Couldn’t be…