Mission 2: Queenspace

***Mission 2, Day 3, 1900 hours***

“Vestara Mayne, I have been sent to bring you to the station and extend to you a token of the Queen’s mercy. Will you come willingly?”

Vestara had intended on ignoring the latest visitor to her cell, however the voice that spoke to her was unfamiliar, and the subject of her statement caused her much confusion. “Station? Queens Mercy?” She repeated the words, not fully understanding the meaning behind them. “I am unfamiliar with such a vessel” she said incorrectly assuming ‘the queens mercy’ as the name of a ship. “I am to be extradited back to Starfleet HQ then?” She sighed loudly, and hung her head down.

She didn’t have the will to fight on. Sumo had taken that from her along with everything else. Sometimes she would daydream about all the different ways she might end her pitiful existence; the most common being escaping from her cell, and hurling herself out the nearest airlock. She had played out the fantasy several times, her familiarity with the layout of the Yorktown was enough for her to know that she was less than 30 meters from such an airlock. She only need to find an excuse to get out of her cell, her lack of sight would not be an issue in traversing the short distance, even blind. From that point it would be a simple matter of ‘feeling’ for the control panel, her years of experience as the ships operations officer would be valuable as she could visualize the LCARS user interface in her mind, and let her fingers take care of the rest. Even if her command codes were no longer accepted, she knew David’s by heart...and there was a chance that his codes had not yet been removed from the Main Computer.

Vestara lifted her head slightly, suddenly realizing she had not been listening to the unfamiliar female voice that had been talking, for how long, she did not know.

“...it is truly an honor that she has extended you this invitation,” Doctor Couren was saying. “It is very rare for a newly emigrated xeno to draw such attention. The Viceroy represents the Queen herself, may her glory never fade.”

As the Bajoran listened to the voice, Vestara realized that perhaps the time had come, she was going to get her chance. Eagerly she began to stand up, her arms reflexively feeling out around her for the wall of the cell for which she could brace and orient herself. “Anything to get away from this place” she heard herself say, which was true of course. However if the Prophets truly pitied her, within minutes, she would no longer be alive.

“Come with me, and you will see.” Doctor Couren gestured to the grumatals, who helped the Bajoran woman to her feet. They helped her gain her balance and guided her out of cell. When she was steady they released her arms.

And that was when Vestara acted. She swung her fist wildly to the presence she sensed on her left, and connected with something hard and metallic. Pain exploded in her arm from the force of the blow, but judging by the grunting noise coming from the being she had just smacked, she had caught the person unawares. Recalling the layout of the brig from memory she bolted forward, and was rewarded by hearing the doors hiss open. She pivoted slightly changing her trajectory to match the source of the sound, and was about to convince herself that she was going to get away and be able to carry out her plan, when a sharp stabbing pain hit her in the base of her neck. Reflexively her hand reached out to the pains origin, at the same time she cried out in surprise. Her hand brushed against a small object now lodged into her neck. She felt her motor functions freeze up, and her body collapsed to the ground. She lay still, paralyzed, and unable to even speak, as the toxin that now ran through her body had done so at extreme speed.


*******

***Day 4, 0940 Hours***

Being dead wasn't so bad, Vestara decided. She felt at peace for the first time in days. She was relatively pain free, though she seemed to be experiencing some kind of discomfort as if something sat atop her head. But of course, she was being judged worthy of entrance to the celestial temple. Sensing a presence nearby, she spoke. “I, Vestara Mayne, present myself to The Prophets, a humble servant seeking refuge in the celestial temple”

“You disappointment me, Vestara Mayne,” a smooth tenor voice said. It had strength and volume that indicated it came from a large body, though it was still distinctly female. “I had thought that a woman who dedicated herself so fully to a cause, even a false one, would be made of sterner stuff than this.”

Dread consumed Vestara immediately. She was not dead and this was no Prophet. The weight on her head suddenly become more intense, “Where am I?” she demanded, “What is on my head!?’ her voice betrayed the fear she felt.

“You needn’t worry about that,” the voice continued. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am called Midalva, Viceroy of the 14th Legion, honored associate of Her Luminescence Queen Tervathaki the mighty and fair, may her Glory never fade. The Yorktown is docked at one of the stations under my supervision. How are you feeling?”

“Disappointed.” she admitted. “If you are going to kill me, I am ready to die”

“Your death does not serve the queendom so much as your life. You will feel physically better soon enough,” the Viceroy assured her. A large hand with a delicate touch was placed on her knee. “Your new eyes will complete their growth cycle before the trial. They were based on your previous set, but it’s not too late to change the color or grant them other properties if you wish. I’ve heard some humanoids bear something of a fascination with slotted feline eyes. Would you prefer that?”

“New eyes?” Vestara said confused. “You are giving me back my sight?” Vestara was unsure of exactly what was going on here. Was this a dream? A trick? So many things did not make sense to her.

“Yes. New eyes. Accelerated regenerative stem cells directed by bio-dissolving nanites. They do wonderful work. Vestara, you strike me as a woman who thinks well on her feet. Is this an accurate assessment?”

“You will find most survivors of the occupation fit that description” Vestara said bitterly.

“I have an offer which you would do well to consider.” The hand withdrew and Vestara could hear the shifting of the Viceroy’s position. “Traditionally, any new immigrant who wishes to become a part of the Queendom must undergo at least five years of indenture. The indenture is initially held by the Queen and administered by her representatives. A person of talent, such as yourself, may spend their entire indenture in the Queen’s service, or the indenture may be sold to a citizen of the Queendom. This acclimates one to our society and informs them as to the duties of a citizen in the light of her Luminescence.”

Vestera felt herself go cold on the inside. She would be a servant to no one. The Prophets were all that she served. She decided now was not the time to speak up, but continued to listen.

“Our justice system, for example, acts with remarkable efficiency. Evidence is gathered from the witnesses’ memories, which are then uploaded and shared with the defendant and the officers of the court. The defendant offers up a plea in a court presided over by the Justicar, the Viceroy or other relevant representative of the enlightened crown, may darkness never dim her path, and a third.” There was a slight rustle of fabric and Vestara could feel the obviously larger female leaning toward her. “Today your former captain and the chief of security from the Yorktown go on trial for failure to defend a female. While what I am about to offer you is highly unconventional it comes with the Queen’s blessing.”

“Is that supposed to impress me?” Vestara asked, not out of malice, but from sheer ignorance of the culture of these people who now held her captive.

“I do require that you be impressed,” Midalva said. “But how could you be? You have spend your time at Laratha Station blind and trapped in a brig. I will give you an example. The Cardassian derelict that you observed as your vessel trespassed into the Queen’s Cloud, do you recall it? That vessel was incapacitated by three of our scout ships, then boarded by a total of 30 of our marines. We lost no one. Those three ships were a small part of a total combined fleet numbering in the thousands, represented over a dozen species from numerous planets and hundreds of stations within the nebula, the majority of whom revere her Luminescence with the same level of devotion as you bear for your prophets. So when I say that something is done with her blessing, that matters.”

Vestara considered this. If the information was true, and she had no reason to believe or disbelieve the voice at the moment, then yes, it was impressive. But the Bajorans were an ancient race, their first forays into space travel taking place over 10,000 years ago. If these aliens truly existed so close to Bajor....why had no record of their presence ever been made? she struggled with this thought for awhile, but there was also something about the nature of the voice talking to her. It felt honest. And sincere. And those were both traits Vestara admired.

“So what exactly do you have in mind?” she said after mulling over the details she had been presented.

“Vestara Mayne, act as our third in these trials and your indenture will be shortened by half,” the Viceroy said. “Agree to act as a special envoy of her Luminescence on a mission to your home planet of Bajor and when the mission is complete your indenture will be considered fulfilled. Consider carefully, Vestara. Much good can come of this for yourself and your people.”

“Bajor?” she whispered softly. “What mission is this?” the woman asked, her voice returning to full volume.

“Sumo, the man who is ultimately responsible for your present condition, needs to be brought to justice for his crimes against my people,” Midalva explained. “And the Queen wishes to make an assessment about whether the void is ready to know us better. Surely these are both causes which your prophets would approve.”

Images of Sumo flashed in her mind, and she fought back the emotion that swelled within her. If there was going to be an attempt to bring Sumo to justice, she damn well wanted to be a part of that. She still didn't know what to make of these aliens or their matriarchy, though it was apparent the very fact that she was a female afforded her a certain amount of respect she never thought she would command again. And for now, that was enough.

“I accept” she said confidently. “I have one request...” she said hoping she wasn't pushing the limits of the respect she was being treated with. “the first thing I would like to do when I receive my sight again, is to pay my respects to my late husband, David. I would appreciate some closure.”

“Very well. I will send someone to escort you,” the Viceroy said. As she stood the sound of her motion told Vestara that she was large but graceful. "The doctor will return to check on the progress of your eyes. Once that process is complete you will be shown the evidence to be presented in the trial. Before the court proceeds you will receive detailed instructions pertaining to the manner of conductance in our justice system so that you will understand your place within it." There was the sound of footsteps and a door opening. "Thank you, Vestara."

**************

Vestara Mayne
Indentured servant of the Queen
Laratha Station

Doctor Helen Couren
Xeno Absorption and Emigration Specialist
14th Royal Legion

Viceroy Midalva
14th Royal Legion

***Mission 2, Day 4, 1100 hours***

The ocean waves crashed into the rocky coast, and a salty breeze filled the air. Sumo closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. It was nice to be home, and it had been far too long since his last sojourn here. A flock of birds soared overhead, he watched them as they circled and disappeared behind the thicket of tropical jungle to his west. This paradise was a favorite spot of his, and one he liked to visit when he needed a chance to meditate and clear his mind. Sadly his purpose here today was one of business, not pleasure, and there was unlikely to be time for relaxing.

The Zaldine Resort, once the crown jewel of Bajors smallest continent, was now home to Gyntil Daala, and the official seat of power of the United Federation of Planets. And it was with Daala whom Sumo was here to meet.

The woman next to him gasped as she peered out over the tall cliffs, and down into the ocean below. “It is beautiful here” Tahiri Tycho said appreciatively.

“It is” Sumo said, acknowledging her good taste. He took to the marble stairs in front of him, the white polished stone almost sparkling under the bright Bajoran sun. The steps gave way to a grand building, also marble, with gigantic pillars flanking either side of the structure, and an ornately decorated garden full of fountains, trees, gravel walkways, and freshly manicured green grass. The visage provided a stark contrast to the massive space battle that was taking place right now, far above.

“Do you know why he wants to see us?” Tahiri asked cautiously as she followed closely up the stairs behind him.”

“Me” Sumo corrected. “The summons did not mention your presence, but I suspect he will have some use for you” he kept his voice calm and controlled. It would do him no good to betray the apprehension he felt at meeting Daala after such a long time. After all, there were few beings in the galaxy that generated the kind of fear inside him that Daala did. Tahiri would experience this soon enough herself. Better that her reaction be genuine, as it would be the only way she would survive the upcoming encounter and gain Gyntil’s trust.

As they walked along the grounds of the resort, they passed an obsidian statue, carved into the shape of an ‘Orb of The Prophets’. Water flowed out from the top of the statue, and ran down the sides of the orb, before spilling into a pool. The water was crystal clear, and the dark statue contrasted beautifully with the bright white building it stood in front of.

“Remarkable” Tahiri said softly. “I guess I never really appreciated the Bajoran arts before. I am very impressed”

Sumo ignored mentioning that her compliment meant little coming from a species whose home world had been destroyed by the Borg almost a century ago. But still, he was glad that she seemed to be enjoying her time here. They had been on the planet now for a little over 36 hours, and after their initial debriefing on Deep Space Nine, the famous station that was now orbiting Bajor, had been allowed some time to rest and recover from the intense battle that they had flown into. A battle Sumo was sure they had only survived because The Prophets willed it so.

They were greeted at the door to the re-purposed resort by a pair of young looking armed guards. Before either of them issued an order to Sumo and Tahiri to identify themselves, Sumo slid a PADD out from his robes, and handed it calmly to the guard on his right. The young Bajoran looked at the PADD, and ran a small pen sized scanner across its screen, no doubt checking its authenticity. Finally he nodded, “If you will follow me Emissary, the President is this way.” He passed the PADD back to Sumo and turned on his heels in sharp militaristic fashion. Sumo followed without making a sound, but when Tahiri started forward, the other guard grabbed her by the arm, “Not you ma’am. You’re not listed on the summons.” he said with an air of authority to his voice. Sumo stopped and turned to face the guard now holding Tahiri. “She is with me. I can assure you, she is no threat”

The guard did not yield, “I am sorry Emissary, but my orders are clear, I am not to allow any unauthorized person past this checkpoint.”

“I am authorizing her” Sumo declared, the force behind his words daring the guard to disagree.

The guard frowned, and looked to his partner for backup. Sumo cast a glance in his direction and saw him simply shrug. Feeling like he had won the advantage, Sumo pressed it, “I am an Emissary of the Prophets, and this woman has served them faithfully and willingly, and she stays with me.” While that wasn’t entirely true; the young woman had been brainwashed into servitude, neither the guard, nor Tahiri were any the wiser.

“Come Tahiri” Sumo said. She took a hesitant step forward, and when the guard didn't resist, fell into step behind him. “You serve the Prophets well” Sumo said to the guards. It was always good to reward those subservient to you with praise when it was merited.

“Thank you Emissary” the lead guard said, his footsteps now echoing off the glossy surface of the building they had entered.

Their trip through the refurbished resort sparked memories of prior stays here. Sumo did his best to push those thoughts from his head. Now was not the time to reminisce. A few minutes, and several corridors later, they entered into a large room staffed by various clerical personages going about their mundane governmental tasks. There was likely quite a bit of work for the government employees scrambling to deal with the recent move from Earth to Bajor, and of course the mounting civil war that was on going because of it.

The lead guard approached a large double door, and knocked twice before opening it. As the door swung open Sumo was able to see a large office beyond it, with bookshelves from floor to ceiling, a hand crafted wood desk, and a comfortable looking leather chair in which sat Gyntil Daala. “The Emissary, to see you sir” the guard said, Sumo took notice of the slight tremble to his voice.

“Good. Send him in” came the icy reply of the chairs occupant.

The guard stepped aside and held his hand out through the doorway inviting Sumo in.

Sumo nodded to Tahiri indicating she was to follow him inside the office.

When Sumo entered the room he could feel the weight of Daala’s stare. He immediately dropped his own gaze to the floor, suddenly finding the plush carpet on which they walked very interesting. To look Daala in the eyes right now would mean certain death. The wooden door closed behind him with a soft click.

“You have brought someone” came the cold chilling voice of Daala. It was a statement, not a question.

“The Prophets have gifted me a servant” Sumo said quickly, not daring to raise his head to meet Daala’s eyes. “I thought perhaps she might be of use to you, as she was to me. Consider her a gift.”

“Perhaps” Daala said. It was impossible for Sumo to know if Gyntil was pleased, but he was confident The Will of The Prophets was guiding him. “And what of Roux’s daughter?” Questioned Daala.

“She is on Deep Space Nine.” Sumo said, his eyes seemingly burrowing holes in the floor on which he stood. “Vedek Silas is interrogating her” he revealed.

“Excellent.” came another short reply. “Please Emissary, won’t you and your guest sit down”

Sumo exhaled, trying not to reveal his relief, but also chastising himself for not trusting that The Prophets plan did not call for him to be executed by their ordained leader. He approached Gyntil’s desk and slid into the chair, which was not nearly as comfortable as it looked. He finally raised his head to look at Daala. “Thank you sir” Sumo said. He saw Tahiri take the chair to his right out of the corner of his eye.

“This is Tahiri Tycho” Sumo said presenting the woman next to him. “She is a true believer of our cause and is willing to do whatever it takes to serve The Prophets.”

“I am ready to serve you” Tahiri added, though Sumo could sense the apprehension in her voice. He smiled inwardly knowing that she was now able to feel the power of Daala’s presence.

“Welcome Tahiri” Daala said, “If Sumo has given you his blessing, then I am confident you will go on to do great things for us.”

“T-Thank You sir, I will not disappoint” she said meekly, her voice betraying her own confidence.

Daala shifted his attention back to Sumo, and he felt a knot form in his stomach. “I have called you here because I have a vital mission that will draw upon your strengths.”

Sumo said nothing, though his curiosity was piqued.

“Starfleet has...” Daala stopped suddenly. “Actually...” he continued his voice trailing off, and Sumo could see the man shift in his own chair as he considered something a moment. He watched as Daala looked again to Tahiri. “The Prophets Will is always in motion” he said after a moment, a dark smile engulfing his face. “Yes Tahiri, there IS a reason you are here with us at this juncture.”

Sumo could see Tahiri questioning whether or not she should acknowledge the President’s statement. When she said nothing, Sumo piped up. “I believe this also” he nodded once, for emphasis. “Though they have not revealed to me what her purpose is”

“I believe we have just been given the opportunity to turn the tide of this war” Daala said. “Listen carefully...”

***************
Sumo
First Emissary of The Prophets
Bajor

***Mission 2, Day 3 2230 hours***

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Thoris whispered to Nala. He had changed out of his Starfleet uniform and into something more casual and less conspicuous. “Or, maybe, your emotions wired. Open. Whatever.” Word had spread around the ship about a particular bar on the station that catered to all sorts--Tervidian and non-Tervidian alike. He pushed open the door in front of him and a sea of smoke invaded his nostrils. His antennae turned away from the bright neon lights, the intensity of them flooding the associated senses. He would have to try to adjust to them.

"Will do, Commander!" She replied, ready to begin what was sure to be an interesting night. Nala glanced around, feeling the rush of emotions from the crowded room. She was hoping that she could help in singling someone out who would be able to help them with their daring plan.

Thoris scanned the crowd. The place was packed. There was no option to sit in a dark corner and spy on the guests here. He and Nala would have to hide out in plain sight. He made a slight gesture toward the bar and led the way. He squeezed between a couple odd-looking fellows and waited for the barkeep to catch up with his orders, meanwhile looking around the crowd for a Tervidian that fit the profile he was looking for.

“More Starfleet!” Jassad said sliding over in front of the pair. “You guys have been drinking my best alpha quadrant spirits faster than I can replace them”. Jassad was half joking. The last 24 hours had seen an increase in the yorktown crew patronage of his bar, and most had not been too keen to try the local flavors of the cloud.

“You don’t happen to have any Andorian ale, do you?” Thoris inquired.

A grin formed on Jassad’s lips. “I just might have a dusty bottle laying around here somewhere”

“Swell! I’ll have one--er,” Thoris glanced at Nala with a mischievous smile. “Make it two ales, then. Glad you serve them.” He turned to Nala and noticing the look on her face insisted, “What? Oh, come on, you’ll like it.”

“I’m not a big drinker, but I’ll take your word for it.” Nala replied, looking at the bottles behind the bar rather skeptically.

Jassad took in the details of the females face. “You’re Betazoid aren’t you?” While physically Jassad presented a friendly face, the realization that she was a telepath, and his years of training in the Obsidian Order let him carefully shut his mind off from the woman. He did it slowly and deliberately, knowing that doing so quickly and suddenly would have alerted the Betazoid to his mental defense.

"Very keen observation sir. I am a betazoid. What gave it away? My charm and good looks?" She said jokingly. She didn't know who this man was, but she liked him already.

Thoris scanned over the crowd with both his eyes and antennae, trying to find a particular type of person. “Maybe it’s true that there isn’t such a thing as an uncivil Tervidian,” he muttered under his breath.

Jassad watched the Andoran carefully. He took note of how alert and attentive he was to his surroundings. “Jassad Tain at your service” he said extending his hand to the blue skinned alien. “It looks to me like you could use a friend on board the station.”

Nala glanced at Thoris before answering. "Yeah, something like that."

“I have a private booth in the corner” Jassad said glancing off to the side, “perhaps we could get acquainted better in someplace a little more....quiet”

Thoris glanced at Nala, momentarily feeling insecure. That soon passed once he recalled this was his his choice. He would have to gamble; this Cardassian might not agree with everything the Tervidians do. In fact, from what he saw in this room, it suggested that perhaps this bartender tended to bend the rules as well. “Uh, sure. Maybe you could help us out.”

Jassad rapped his knuckles twice on the bar getting the attention of his son, who merely nodded in his direction confirming he understood. Jassad ducked beneath the bar for a few moments, before popping back up with a bottle of Andorian Ale, and three small glasses. He motioned with his head for the two Starfleet officers to follow him.

The Cardassian came around the end of the counter, and slipped through the crowded bar with the bottle in one hand, and the glasses cradled in the other. He wrinkled his nose as he walked through a cloud of Yorrik smoke, and resisted the urge to cough. After emerging on the other side of the smoke cloud he found himself in the corner of the room. A round booth surrounded the table, and Jassad settled into one side, saddling towards the corner of the booth.

Thoris cautiously followed, checking to see if Nala was also coming. It was somewhat exhilarating to finally meet someone who wasn’t walking around with the queen’s stick up their butt.

Jassad set each glass down on the table, and removed the cork to the bottle. He poured each glass half full of the rusty red liquid, and placed the bottle in the middle inviting his guests to refill their glasses at their leisure, and then slid a glass in front of both of them.

“So...business.” Thoris swallowed, still amazed he was about to do this. “We are looking for someone to act as an assassin.”

Ale sprayed from Jassad’s mouth at the surprise comment from the Andoran. He rose quickly, his glass tumbler clattering on the table. He cautioned a quick glance around, specifically making sure no “Tervie” was in close proximity to their booth.

Jassad finally managed to compose himself, something he was not accustomed to having to do. Starfleet officers plotting an assassination? Now THAT was something you didn’t hear every day. “Now...granted I have been out of the loop for almost 2 decades, but the StarFleet I remember didn’t go around performing high profile assassinations.” Jassads eyes twinkled in delight.

“Sit down,” Thoris commanded. “We don’t want to kill anyone, but just make it seem like someone wants to kill someone.”

“So...may I ask who this target is?” came the probing question.

Thoris gestured to Nala. “Her.”

There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence as Jassad glanced from Nala to Thoris, and back to Nala again. “Right” Jassad said standing again, his expression suddenly turning sour. “Forgive me, I was under the impression we were about to have some serious dialogue. Enjoy the drinks, take the bottle, but you’re not welcome back in my establishment.” He turned to leave the booth, feeling extraordinarily uneasy over what had just taken place. His first instinct was this was some sort of entrapment exercise the damned Tervies had enlisted the Starfleet officers to assist with. Did this have anything to do with that Luther character who was in his bar yesterday? Or was this some poor attempt at a prank by marooned officers with nothing better to do with their time. Jassad was pulled from his thoughts and his attempt to leave when a strong hand had reached out and grabbed his arm. Resisting the urge to attack, he turned slowly, and fixed a hard stare at the offending Andoran.

“We’re being serious. We’re desperate. We need help in this matter.”

“And why would I help you, you haven't even offered me your names yet” Jassad said snarling.

Nala could tell things were about to go downhill fast. Before she knew what she was doing, she reached out and put a calming hand on each of the men in front of her. "Please, just give us a moment to explain. I wasn't aware we were going to jump right in like that." She said, casting a somewhat annoyed look at Thoris. "I am Nala, head nurse on the USS Yorktown, this is Commander Ch’Tell, acting Captain. Sorry for not properly introducing ourselves." She paused, glancing between the two men, noting Jassad was still rather tense. She continued quickly and quietly. "As you know, our ship was taken by this Queen of yours. Some of our men have been arrested and accused of crimes our laws do not recognize. We are stuck here, obviously. They've got massive weapons aimed at our ship. What possible chance of escape would we have?"

“She is not MY Queen” Jassad said through clenched teeth, his eyes flashed darkly, his pupils narrowed, and the temperature around the booth seemed to drop 30 degrees. “And if you want to avoid getting killed by a less forgiving....” Jassad paused looking for the most appropriate word, “guest...on this station, you would do well to consider most people in this section of the station stay here only because it beats the alternative There is no escaping this station. Not in the way you are hoping for” the Cardassian finished.

Thoris glanced at Nala, wondering if this confirmed her suspicions too. They were in the sinkhole of the galaxy here, and it would be difficult to escape by civil means. Their plan would have to go on.

"The commander and I" she continued as though Jassad had not spoken, gesturing to Thoris, "have come up with a plan of sorts. You see, one of the men who was taken was our former Captain, and I happen to hold him close to my heart. He's been very falsely accused, as have the others who were taken. We think if we can somehow make it seem as though the Tervidians were trying to kill someone, me actually, that we could leave."

“And,” Thoris added, “if we could stage our former captain to risk his life to save her, it would prove even more so that he is in the right.”

With one eyebrow raised, Jassad returned to his seat once more. “And you figured what? You would just wander into the local bar, pull up a chair, and ask the barkeep to stage an attempt on your life?” he was looking at the telepath who had identified herself as Nala. She was quite beautiful, as most Betazoid women tended to be. Though the lack of symmetrical vertebrae made her distinctly unappealing to Jassad as a mate. Jassad would only ever take a fellow Cardassian as a mate. He pushed the thoughts from his mind and waited for the nurse or the so called ‘commander’ to respond.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Cardassian,” Thoris scoffed. “You were never initially in the plan. I only figured that you were unsatisfied with something, so I gave you a shot. Besides, the plan will work best if we can hire a Tervidian to do the dirty work.”

Jassad stifled a laugh. “A Tervidian that could be bought off? Would never happen. The Queen commands a level of respect and loyalty from her subjects that would make the old Romulan senate seem like nothing more than a holo-novel club."

Nala looked up at the man in front of her. "Surely there is SOMEONE in this damned cloud who is as desperate as we are, someone who would help us. We, in turn, could help them." She hinted as she watched him closely, gauging his reaction.

The Cardassian shook his head violently, “I am telling you, that line of thinking will get you nowhere” Jassad reached out and grabbed the Andoran ale. It wasn't his favorite spirit, but the need to calm his nerves was immediate, as the current conversation was an extraordinarily dangerous one to be having. He poured himself another shot, and threw it back, closing his eyes briefly as the strong liquid burned in his throat. When he opened them, he fixed Thoris with a hard stare. “The ones you want to target, the ones who could be bought, are the indentured aliens who serve the Tervies by doing trivial administrative tasks in the judicial sector.”

Thoris grunted, not sure if he could be satisfied enough with an indentured alien. “So what of the judicial system?”

“Unlike the public trials that we hold on Cardassia, trials that are designed to unite the citizens of the empire yet also use the opportunity to set an example to other would-be wrongdoers, trials here are small private affairs, possibly less than a half dozen in the room at a given time. It is those one or two aliens that will be present, assisting the court, that you want to set your sights on.” Jassad said confidently before reaching for the bottle of Ale again.

Thoris nodded. Getting a common member of the empire into the room would be difficult, so an indentured alien working in the system was indeed the best bet. He was about to ask where he could find such a person--one that was dissatisfied--when Nala spoke up before he could.

“Here’s one thing I don’t quite understand about you. You are a Cardassian that enjoys living under Tervidian rule?”

Thoris peered over at Nala. This was an already established idea, so he figured Nala was trying to provoke the barkeep.

"I mean, honestly and truly, how could anyone besides those who are native to this queen, actually be happy here? We are all captive, with no means of escape. Surely you understand what I mean." She fixes her eyes upon Jassad's, waiting for him to say something.

Jassad made no effort to hide the scowl on his face. “If you are trying to upset me Betazoid, you are doing a damn good job of it” The Cardassian leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he hunched over. “I have been stuck in this cursed cloud for almost 2 decades. Those Tervie bastards shot my vessel to hell. There are less than a half dozen Cardassians left on this station today, after over 120 were originally brought here.”

Nala’s eyes widened. “What happened to the rest? Did they leave?” she questioned, though she felt she already knew the answer.

“They were murdered” Jassad said, his eyes glazing over as his thoughts drifted to his comrades, his friends, his brother, and of course his wife...

“Murdered?” she whispered, a feeling of great sadness washing over her.

“Gul Du’syl, the man who led our mission here, conspired with the other Cardassians to attack the Tervidians from within. They spent weeks planning the operation. 2 nights before the attack was to take place, I was mugged by a gang of Tellarites,” Jassad said, pulling the vest he wore apart, and revealing a nasty scar across his grey chest.

A gasp escaped Nala’s lips. She glanced from Jassad’s scar to his face, then to Thoris. This is the kind of thing the queen lets happen to her people? She looked back to Jassad as he continued.

“I was in the medical facility being cared for, and Du’syl decided to go ahead with the attack. Khan Terroth...well he wasn’t a Khan back then, he and a squad of Grumatals decimated my people as they approached the Tervidian section. Terroth...he ripped off Du’syl’s head with his bare hands. It was meant to shock the rest of the attackers, and force them to surrender. In fact it did quite the opposite, it enraged my people. They charged...and the Tervies...well, they killed every single one of them, without mercy or hesitation.” Jassad’s voice was full of emotion, and it trembled as he continued. “Terroth...he....he came to me in the med bay. He told me what he had done. He told me...he told me that my wife had been slain....he seemed so remorseful about it, that taking a female's life would haunt him for the rest of his days....” Tears began to form in Jassad’s eyes, “And that in the autopsies, they had discovered she was with child. Only an embryo at that point, and that their medical personnel had placed it in stasis, and if I agreed to serve the Queen in some fashion they would incubate its growth until such a time as it could survive naturally. Of course I accepted....” Jassad’s voice trailed off as he turned to watch his son at the bar.

Nala nodded, understanding how he must have felt. His friends and his wife has been killed, his child was all he had left.

“But I will always hate them for what they did to my people. Even if they gave me my son....”

There was a moment of awkward silence, but Jassad didn’t mind. He hadn’t expected to reveal so much of his past to these people, but clearly they were just as desperate as he was. And with a galaxy class starship, perhaps they had the resources to get him and his boy off the station.

“There is a provision to buy your freedom and leave the cloud” Jassad revealed. “But they take your memories, so that you can never return and reveal their home to outside threats.” Jassad’s head turned back to Thoris and Nala. “That is why no one leaves. Because they can not afford the price, or those than can are unwilling to have their memories tampered with. So they make the best of it here.”

Jassad turned so that Thoris, the heir apparent leader of the Starfleet vessel, was his sole focus. “I have...” Jassad looked around quickly, “access to certain things most people don’t on this station. I can find out who is going to be providing clerical duties at this trial you are so interested in, and put you into touch with an individual. But i do have a substantial fee....” Jassad watched Thoris’ eyes to make sure he was giving him his full attention. “If I am risking my neck for you Starfleet types, I want asylum for me and my son. There is no future for that boy here” he admitted.

Thoris nodded sullenly. “I will meet your needs.”

While it was true that Jassad had planned on making a similar arrangement with Luther, he always liked having a back up plan, and in the worst case scenario, he could always feed one of the arrangements to the Tervies in a plea bargain to save his own neck.

“So do we have a deal then?” Jassad queried.

Nala glanced over at Thoris, raising her eyebrow as she caught his eye, silently questioning if he was going to go through with this.

It needed to be done. One step closer to free themselves from the Tervidians and rescue their lost crew. “It is a deal.”

“Wait here a moment...I will return with what you need” Jassad rose without preamble and disappeared into the crowded bar.

Thoris turned to Nala. “So, what do you sense from him?” he asked hoping the Betazoids telepathic abilities were paying off.

"Well," she began, "I'm not actually sensing much from him at all. But he seems trustworthy enough." She glanced in the direction Jassad had gone, wondering what they were getting themselves into.

“That doesn't bother you?” Thoris said inclining his head.

"You know, normally it would. But there's just something about this Jassad that I like. He seems genuine enough. That and the fact that he's willing to do this to get his child away from here just makes me want to leave here as fast as possible."

“Right” Thoris said mulling it over. His own experience with Cardassians was enough to know that they could not always be trusted, but Nala was right his concern for his child seemed genuine, and the Cardassians were known for close knit family ties. That and the fact that they didnt have any other alternatives at this point. “In Jassad we trust then.” he muttered, finally reaching for the Andoran ale he had ignored for most of the meeting.

The Cardassian returned after about 5 minutes with a data chip in his hand. “These are the 2 individuals who will be performing clerical tasks at the trial. I recommend only approaching one of them..” Jassad glanced at his chronometer, “and based on the time, I would suggest you make haste.” He held the chip out for either Nala or Thoris to take. “This is taken directly from the stations census data. You will find everything you need about their past, as it has been recorded by Tervidian records, as well as where to find them. DON’T LET ANYONE SEE IT” he stressed. An idea suddenly occurred to Jassad as he noticed the commbadges pinned to the Starfleet uniforms chests. “Should something go wrong and we need to contact each other...” the Cardassian kept his gaze on the commbadge.

Thoris followed the Cardassians gaze to the communicator on his chest, and knew instantly what he was after. As a science officer he was well aware of the dangers of providing technology to outsiders, but under the current circumstances...he sighed and pulled it off, holding it out for Jassad. “Only for emergencies...and I expect this returned, or our previous deal is null and void” Thoris said evenly, watching the Cardassian for any sign of deception.

“Of course, only in an emergency” Jassad agreed taking the commbadge from Thoris and pocketing it. “I am happy to return it when I am safely aboard your vessel when this is all said and done”

“Agreed” said Thoris, who in turn took the data chip from Jassad, and slipped it into his own breast pocket.

“Until next time then” Jassad said nodding.


**********
This has been a joint post by

Commander Thoris Ch’Tell
Acting Captain

Lieutenant Junior Grade Nala Koshka
Head Nurse

Jassad Tain
Bar Owner

***Mission 3, Day 3, 2345 hours***


“Arron,” Thoris cried in a stern voice. “Are you awake?”

Arron’s eyes widened at the unexpected sound of Thoris voice. “Yeah...” he said softly, then “Yes” he spoke again louder. “What are you doing here?” Arron said rising from the cot to approach the Yorktown’s current commanding officer. He rubbed the temples of his head, his mind aching from the technology the Tervidians had used to force him to relive the events on the Yorktown over the last week.

“I’ve been talking to Nala about your situation, and I don’t think there is much we can do. At least, nothing to talk about while we have Tervidian guards watching our every move.” Thoris glared into Arron’s eyes. Hopefully he would catch on at some point during tonight’s conversation. “I don’t have much time to converse, but I just came to see how you were doing.”

Arron snorted, “So you have nothing to say, nor any time to say it, but just thought you would drop by? Thanks a lot Thoris. Make sure you feed my fish, and water my plants for me would you?” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Do you have any idea what these people are doing to me in here?” Drexel questioned, letting anger creep into his voice.

Thoris seemed to ignore Arron’s rants. “Arron, you care for Nala, don’t you?” His antennae were pointed in the former Captain’s direction.

The question caught Arron off guard, but he recovered quickly, “Uh, yes. Of course I do” Arron said thinking back to when he told her that he loved her, and she reciprocated in kind.

“If Nala’s life were in danger, you would intercede, wouldn’t you?”

Arron’s eyes narrowed and he fixed a hard stare at Thoris. “What is going on with Nala!?” he demanded.

“No reason why I’m asking. I’m just making sure your heart is pure.” Thoris broke eye contact with Arron and stared toward the exit. “Nala sends her love.” Without waiting for a response, he marched straight out of the room, hoping Arron would understand.

Arron cocked his head to the side as he pondered that last statement, then the smallest hint of a smile showed at the corner of his mouth as Thoris left the room.

*********
This has been a joint post by

Thoris Ch'Tell
Acting Captain
USS Yorktown

and

Arron Drexel
Tervidian Prisoner
Laratha Station

***Mission 2, Day 4, 0325 hours***


The light from the PADD glowed softly, illuminating the immediate area in which Jassad stood. A patrol of Grumatal guards had passed moments before, and he knew he had a few minutes to stare at the schematics again. As he browsed the document on the PADD searching for the correct layout of this section of the station, he cursed to himself for being unfamiliar with this area of the residential zone.

The Tervidians, in an effort to placate the species which they had subjugated, had allowed the various aliens to construct their own layouts to the residential section. Over the hundreds of years that the station has been in use, specifically the xeno section, the plethora of species had remodeled, reshaped, and built over section after section of residential real estate, so the resulting hodgepodge of construction was as difficult to navigate as it was an eye sore.

Confident that he had oriented himself, Jassad deactivated the PADD, and waited three minutes. The exact time he knew it took Cardassian eyes to adjust to the darkness. While the corridors were lit for 31 of the 32 hours of a standard Tervidian cycle, the stations size, and age meant that for 1 hour, power was cut to non essential areas of the Xeno section to allow technicians to recycle the available power for another days use. It was, by Tervidian standards, an extremely inefficient way to do things, but to be fair, the problem was actually the fault of the governing xeno council, a committee of aliens who in theory were responsible for the well being of all the aliens in Laratha’s xeno section. The council had been tasked by the Tervidians to keep law and order and act as a funnel for official requests from the aliens to the Tervidans, and vice versa. The Tervidians had no real desire to interfere in the mundane day to day lives of the species which lived on the station, and until enough people complained about the power brownouts at this hour, nothing was likely to change. And Jassad had certainly had his hand in making sure that no sufficient number of complaints were made to fix the power situation. It was perfect for some of the nefarious deeds that were required for a man of his position. And it was on this occasion that Jassad knew such a deed needed to take place. Armed with what was known on the station as a ‘parang’, basically a glass knife, with hilt that snapped off the blade to keep the weapon lodged deep in its victim, Jassad was ready to do what was necessary to get off of this station.

Hours prior, he had handed 2 names to Thoris and Nala. Names of beings who were involved in the Judicial courts, and would be present at the trials where both their Captain and Chief Security Officer were scheduled to appear. He had known at the time that Thoris and the Yorktown were going to be his best bet at getting both he and his son off the station, so it was important to gain their trust. Unfortunately their plan was flawed, and didn't stand a chance of achieving their goals of redeeming Drexel in the eyes of the Tervies. In fact the absurd idea of faking an assassination attempt on Nala was likely to land the Yorktown’s crew in such hot water, that all involved would likely be executed. The Yorktown, justifiably so, simply did not understand the true value the Tervidians placed in females, and faking an attack on one could only be described as sacrilegious. So here Jassad was, slinking through darkened corridors of the residential section, sabotaging the very plan he had helped create. It was the only way in which Thoris would be able to get him off of this station, and Jassad was not going to let this opportunity pass him by.

The only current obstacle was Jassad had not been able to determine which of the aliens Thoris and Nala had visited and had made a deal with to enact their subterfuge. The solution unfortunately was that both aliens would have to die. It was a sacrifice Jassad was willing to make. His son’s future depended on it, surely any other father would have done the same.

Another quick check of the PADD showed he had arrived outside the quarters of Soldado Qwh’yn, a Caldonian. The Caldonians were known galaxy wide for their adept administrative qualities, and it was no surprise one had worked hard to gain the favor of the Tervidians and had been placed in such a role within the courts. Jassad took note of the keypad beside the door, and then deactivated the PADD, once again cloaking himself in darkness. As he waited for his eyes to adjust again, he listened carefully for any sounds of a Grumatal patrol, or another presence in the area. After a few minutes had passed he pressed his hand to the keypad, tracing its outline until he found the button on the top right. He pressed it, and a small thumb sized panel slid open. Acting quickly, Jassad pulled a data chip from his pocket and inserted it into the revealed slot. With the PADD activated again, he worked feverishly to sync the PADD to chip that would in turn interface with the computer controlling all functions of Soldado’s quarters. A less experienced operative would simply unlock the door via the interface and sneak in to quietly kill the Caldonian. The results of that would be messy, and Jassad needed this kill to be as clean as possible.

Watching the PADD, and still carefully listening for any sounds of an approaching patrol, Jassad accessed the rooms environmental controls and switched off the rooms supply of oxygen. Predictably, an override code was required for such an action, and an alert popped onto the screen. As a countdown appeared to when an alarm would activate, Jassad calmly punched in the 9 digit code he had purchased years ago, one that had come in handy time and time again, and was well worth the price he had paid. The screen flashed green as the code was accepted, and a notification appeared stating that no more oxygen was being pumped into the room. Caldonian physiology meant that within 30 minutes the man would be dead in his sleep, the victim of an unfortunate computer glitch, who had suffocated believably, yet peacefully while he slept.

Jassad pulled the data chip from the keypad and pocketed it, checked the schematics for his next victim, and again waited in the darkness for his eyes to adjust. Relieved that he wouldn't have far to go, and that he could soon return home to his son, he set off down the darkened corridor.

Jassad knew the next victim personally. Kraddack Kurn, a Klingon who had been a regular in his bar. He was friendly enough, for a Klingon anyways, and had always entertained his patrons with old war stories. But tonight, Jassad could not view the Klingon as a friend, however loose that term might fit, but as a sacrifice for the wellbeing of Jassad’s family. He was however grateful that he would not need to see Kurn’s face as he died.

Upon arriving at Kurns quarters he repeated the steps from his previous murder. Sliding open the data hatch, and inserting his datachip, he quickly synched his PADD to the rooms quarters.

“You could just knock” said a growling voice behind him.

Jassad’s heart stopped, not only at the recognition of Kurn’s voice, but at the unmistakable blade of a D'k tahg now pressing into his neck. Thankfully the tip had yet to pierce his skin, meaning Kurn was curious enough about his presence that he wasn't ready to kill him yet. Jassad’s next words would determine his fate.

“The Andorian sent me to drop off an item for you,” Jassad said, hoping that he had guessed correctly that the Klingon was whom had been chosen to perform the faux assassination. He sensed the slightest stiffening of the Klingons arm behind him, and felt his hot breath on his neck and ear. “How do you know about him?” Kurn said forcefully, though still keeping his voice down.

“How the hell do you think?” Jassad said through clenched teeth, putting a little indignation into his voice.

“You play a dangerous game barkeep” Kurn said, “show me the item”

Very, very slowly Jassad reached into his vest and clasped the Starfleet communicator that he had pocketed from Thoris earlier that night. He started to withdraw his arm, and winced as Kurn pressed the knife harder into the base of his neck.

“Careful...” the Klingon said needlessly.

“Easy Kurn” Jassad said warily, not wanting now to be the moment his life ended.

Jassad held the metallic object over his head, and it was quickly pried away by the rough hands of the Klingon. Jassad pictured him scrutinizing the commbadge, though he dared not move. Not yet.

“Why did he want me to have this?” Kurn said finally pulling the D'k tahg from Jassad’s neck.

Jassad exhaled slowly then turned. “Not here” he said motioning to Kurns residential quarters. “Inside, before a Grumatal patrol shows up”

Kurn made a noncommittal grunt but finally stepped in front of Jassad and pressed his hand up to the keypad, where a locking mechanism clicked on the door, and it slid open.

Jassad pried his data chip from the console as Kurn entered, and pocketed both the chip and his PADD inside his vest and followed the Klingon into his quarters.

As he entered he felt his glass parang still sheathed above his waist, and knew that this kill was absolutely not going to be clean. Sighing, he walked to the center of the living space where Kurn called home, pretending to be analyzing the Klingon decor.

“I’m surprised you could get a lot of this stuff in the cloud” Jassad said truthfully, though he was just trying to lure the Klingon into lowering his guard.

“We aren’t here to share fashion tips” Kurn spat, “What am I supposed to do with a Starfleet communicator?”

“Oh I don’t know Kurn, communicate?! Jassad said feigning exasperation. He snatched the communicator and flipped it over, an idea forming quickly in his mind. “Do you see this small impression here” he said casually pointing to a random spot on the back of the device. “This opens-” Jassad was interrupted as the meaty hand of the Klingon ripped the communicator back.

“Where?!” he said squinting at the device, and raised his arm to hold it up above his head.

It was the opening Jassad had been waiting for. In a quick flash he pulled the parang from under his vest and before the Klingon could react he drove the blade under the Klingons chin, through his throat and back into what Jassad imagined was the Klingon brain stem.

Kurn had reflexively grabbed Jassad’s arm, the communicator falling to the ground as he did so, and locked gazes with the Cardassian.

Jassad could see the question of ‘why?!’ in the old warriors eyes, but the glass blade in his throat, and the mixture of blood gurgling in his throat and the gasping for air drowned any chances of words coming out.

“Sleep well my friend, you are free now” Jassad said as the Klingons body went limp in his arms. He jerked the hilt upwards snapping it free from the blade, leaving the glass still lodged inside the Klingon. His eyes had now rolled into the back of his head, and thick purple blood poured copiously from the dead aliens mouth. Jassad let the Klingon fall to the ground and inspected himself making sure he was free from blood stains.

Satisfied he picked the communicator up from the ground and placed it into his pocket. He dropped to the ground sliding against the wall and leaned his head back against the bulkhead. This had been one hell of a long day....


*********

Jassad Tain
Owner of The Liquid Cloud
Laratha Station

****Mission 2, Day 4 1027 hours****

The bar was closed. Typically there was an open archway, with a low hanging marquee sign featuring bright neon letters that would spell out the bars name, ‘The Liquid Cloud’ in the various languages of the stations many occupants. At present there now stood a nondescript metallic wall that sealed the bar from the rest of the station, although this was to be expected for the current time of the day. After all, Tervidian law strictly prohibited business transactions to take place between the hours of 0400 through 1100, and Jassad had witnessed what happened to the dozens of entrepreneurs who tried to find loopholes as to what exactly was considered a ‘business transaction’, that he knew not to tempt the Tervies.

As he approached the wall via the stations promenade a keypad lit up, its internal sensors reading his biometric pattern and confirmed his identity. A 9 foot door panel slid open, big enough to accommodate even the tallest of Tervidians, should the need ever arise. Jassad entered his bar rubbing his forehead. The several shots of Andoran ale he had done last night had presented him this morning with a migraine, and a sore throat. He had treated them as best he could, and was eager to help his son open the bar on time at 1100 hours. One way or another, their lives would change drastically today.

He caught sight of Dorvin on the far end of the bar, straightening chairs, spraying a cleaning solution on the tables, and wiping them down.

“You got in late last night” Dorvin said to his father, pausing briefly.

“You are correct, though it is no concern of yours” Jassad replied frowning, and making his way over to his child. It was a shame, really, that Dorvin bore no resemblance to his mother. A fact that Jassad had attributed to the fetus’ growth in a Tervidian incubation chamber. It was disconcerting at times to stare at the young man who might as well have been a cloned version of himself.

“Is something wrong?” Dorvin asked as he studied his approaching father.

Jassad was quick to regain his typical stoic facade, “I was just wondering, how did we do last night?” the question was of course in reference to the bars profits.

Dorvins face beamed, and he cocked his head towards the register. “We cleaned up! No jackpot payouts on the gaming tables, and the liquor sales were through the roof!” he exclaimed. “If this keeps up, we will be off this station in no time!” he added before wiping down another table.

“I think that is inevitable at this point” Jassad said clasping his son on the shoulder, inspecting the cleanliness of his work.

Dorvin turned back to him. “Oh? Does this have anything to do with all those Starfleet Officers you were meeting with yesterday.”

“You are obnoxiously observant” Jassad admitted.

“Dad...you weren't nearly as inconspicuous as you thought you were” Dorvin said wryly.

“Perhaps...or perhaps you are too much like your old man” Jassad said proudly squeezing his son’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you going to tell me about it, or why you didn't come home until 0300?”

Jassad sighed inwardly, secretly longing for the days when being a father was so much more simple. “.....When the time is right” he offered finally.

Before Dorvin could protest, there was a series of loud bangs on the metallic wall.

“What the hell...” Jassad said aloud, and hurried over to the source of the disturbance. He pressed the release button on a panel, and the 9 foot door slid open again. Jassad poked his head out, and his eyes went wide.

“Mike?!” Jassad hissed, “What the hell do you think you are doing!?”

Mike puffed up his chest and gave Jassad a stern nod of his head.

“Didn’t expect me to be so damned efficient, did you? I got your replicator database, just like you wanted.

“You’re going to get us killed” Jassad spat, quickly looking around. Several people were already staring in their direction. “Get in here!” he said grabbing Mike by the arm and then with a tug, pulled him into ‘The Liquid Cloud’.

“What the hell Jassad?”, Mike retorted. “This was YOUR request. If you planned on being so damned paranoid you should have given me instructions.”

Jassad slammed his fist against the release button, and the door on the wall abruptly slid shut. “Well, what do you expect?” the Cardassian said exasperated. “You’re breaking about 5 Tervidian laws right now” He pulled a chair out from under a table, and forced Mike down into it. “Watch the door!” Jassad ordered to his son, who was staring bewildered at Mike. “At least you had the decency to change out of your uniform” the older Cardassian said, looking the human over.

Mike retained an air of confidence that he had not expected from the human. Jassad considered whether it spoke of experience or stupidity.

Mike glanced over at Dorvin, and then back at Jassad and then folded his arms. After a moments of silence He finally said, “So, you haven’t introduced me to your guest. I didn’t know we were doing business with company.”

“He isn’t a guest, he is my son, and I didn't expect you to come back until my bar was open” was Jassad’s reply. He glared at Mike, though he reminded himself that Mike was likely ignorant of many of the Tervidans laws. “He won’t be a problem” Jassad said, stating that last sentence as a fact.

Mike stood up and put his hand on Jassad’s shoulders. Jassad quickly considered whether he should break his arm at the wrist or the elbow, but then allowed him to leave it as mike applied soft pressure.

“Jassad. You are terrible at this secret espionage stuff. It is obviously not in your nature. You are a nervous wreck, just look at you. You just about jumped out of your skin back there. Once this deal is done, once you have cashed in on your prize, you need to leave here, with your son. You obviously make a better daddy than a conspirator. You know, I won’t be able to help you once I hand you this database. You will be on your own. I can’t protect you.” Mike squeezed Jassad’s shoulder a final time and then gave him a nod and sat back down at the bar.

It took a tremendous amount of self control to not respond to the latest idiotic diatribe that spewed from the human’s mouth. “Right,” he said finally. “Do you have it?”

“And that brings us to our arrangements,” the human announced. “It is my opinion that we have none. You indicated your need for a replicator database, and wanted it to get it as a test for a referral to other work. This again denotes your inexperience. I obviously understand the value of such a database to anyone in the xenosphere. You have asked for an army at the cost of a favor.”

“The cost of a-” Jassads eyes flashed angrily. Is this guy for real? he thought. “If I remember correctly, Human,” he said that last word as if it was something disgusting you would find on the bottom of a shoe, “YOU were the one looking for a way to make some coin here. I am merely judging if your skills are adequate enough to be of any use.”

Mike, appearing confident for someone who was about to die, glanced between Jassad and Dorvin as if sizing them up.

“Look, here is the thing. I have something you want, the replicator database, right here. It’s ready to go, its sanitized, and it will change your world forever. We both know that tossing a few coins my way isn’t going to solve anything. I am a man of business not an alcoholic. Let’s negotiate some terms.”

“I’ll make my opening offer. I will trade you this memory allocation, no strings attached, straight up for the ownership and rights to your bar plus 100% of any debt you owe any party for the ownership of the bar. Obviously you don’t have that kind of money, but i figure you probably know enough parties interested in this data that you could come up with it in a real hurry. In exchange, you will take the data, you will put it to whatever use you intended, profit, and then leave with your son. In the meantime you can still manage the bar if you choose given you can accept a competitive salary and pay rent for whatever facilities you use privately. We can always haggle about the details of your employment.”

“Haggle?” Jassad said. “Are you operating under the impression that this is some cheap Ferengi flea market?” There was an element of steel to his voice. He slowly raised his hand to his vest and opened it slightly, flashing what as known locally as a ‘parang’. To Mike it would have looked like a glass shiv. Impossible to detect by the stations security sensors, yet incredibly lethal. it was designed so that once the parang was lodged into its intended target, the hilt would snap off, leaving the glass weapon inside the victim, tearing up his insides with every movement. Hours ago he had left such a shard in the brain of the Klingon.

Luther took a slight step back with his left foot. Jassad considered his posture, [i/]Was this a sign of retreat? No, it was a defensive position.[/i]

The human spoke again: “That came much sooner than I would have thought. You’re jumping ahead in this game. Let me present another factor in our evolving calculations. I have left a trail, visible for anyone who is looking. It leads from the USS yorktown through me, and ends at your door. It begins with a record of the extraction of the data and ends with the Tervidian guard I cheerfully spoke to outside your door ten minutes ago. If you do not buy the data according to my demands the Tervidians will naturally come upon your scheme. However if my needs are met I simply need to break the pathway at its origin. It is as simple as ‘accidentally’ damaging a piece of equipment. What say you?”

“Foolish human” Jassad said, “You have spent too much time in a holo-novel. Do you think this is how the game is played here? In the cloud? I have made arrangements of my own, with your Commander Thoris and Lieutenant Nala.”

“Bull shit! Nala doesn’t have an ounce of intrigue in her. She is nothing but a love-sick distraction and a shoddy nurse to boot. Great job lifting her name off a command roster though.”

“I told you, this was a test. And you have failed. Miserably.” Jassad said, a thin smile appearing on his lips. Jassad pulled the parang from its sheath with his right hand. “Did you honestly expect you could come into my bar, and strong arm me into selling you the business I spent 2 decades creating?” Light reflected through the glass shiv, colorful prisms danced across Mikes faces as Jassad twirled the parang.

The human’s jaw rippled as he gritted his teeth and he sunk his weight on the his extended back foot. He appeared to be losing the misplaced swagger he had displayed only a minute before.

“Jassad, the proposition is far more fair than you realize. The data will take you far and it is no good to me. I would simply be trading you freedom to rebel against the Tervidians, or to leave this place, for the price of something you would have to leave behind in either scenario. Think of this as your final move in a game of chess. Are you familiar? This is the final move that will set you up to take the queen. You must sacrifice the pawn to win.”

“Your words are wiser than you know”, said Jassad smirking. “Nobody knows you are here Pawn! Had you actually talked to a Tervidian outside this bar, you would have been arrested and jailed instantly for attempting to conduct business outside the queens permitted time frame.” Jassad paused allowing his statement to sink in knowing he had just called Mikes bluff. “I had hoped we could become friends” Jassad said truthfully. “But you are a long way from home right now. Tell me...how long would it take before someone actually thought you were missing, Lieutenant?” he continued to toy with the parang, noticing Mikes eyes had not left the weapon.

The human relaxed his posture and cracked a slight smile. “It occurs to me Jassad that if you have truly made arrangements with Nala and Captain Thoris that our business negotiations are moot. I have failed your test and I have nothing of value to you at this point. Apparently my requested payment is not reasonable. Shall collect my effects and go?

Jassad had one card left to play, other than murdering the man in front of him of course, and it was obvious that the Starfleet officer was not worth even the minimal amount of effort it would take to kill him. It was going to be far more difficult to dispose of the chubby body, though he was entertained by the brief thought of using the bars food processor to serve up pieces of Mike as a special ingredient in the establishments myriad of foodstuffs on the menu. Seasoned correctly, no one would be any the wiser. Clearing his mind, Jassad reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a Starfleet communicator badge, he smiled as he watched Mike’s face contort in recognition.

“You tricky little bastard. There is more to you than I have perceived. Been talking with someone else from the Yorktown, have we?,” the human finally replied.

“Thoris gave this to me, in case the need arose to contact him. A simple tap of this device is all it takes for me to supplant you as the...what is the word you humans use....patsy?”

The human stood still. Opening his mouth to interject, but then sharply closing it again with a snap of his teeth. “Seems we’ve come to an impasse,” he finally replied.

Jassad pressed his advantage. The human was greedy, but at least he knew when to shut his mouth and listen. “As I mentioned earlier, I had hoped we could become friends. I was under the impression we would be able to work together to get off of this station...however your recent actions have called your trustworthiness into question. I would rather not turn you over to your commanding officer, nor would I wish to see you imprisoned by the Tervidians...” Jassad said drawing closer to Mike, to the point the human should feel his breath on his face. “But know this, if you ever try to shortchange me on a deal again, I will kill you. Without hesitation. Do you understand me?”

“Oh, I don’t know how trustworthy I am”, Mike slyly grinned. “However you just turned the tables on me. You say you know a way for me to leave the Clould? Why didn’t you say so you squirmy son-of-a-bitch” Mike let out a big laugh and slapped Jassad on the shoulder heartily. “If you know how to get me out of here I am on your team.”

“I am glad we understand each other,” Jassad said, making a show of sheathing his parang under his vest. “Now I still believe you to be of value, and I am willing to pay you handsomely, in advance. You are a fool to think money is more valuable than favors, however if it is financial security you want...” Jassad turned his back to Mike and walked carefully over the bar, where he slid around and ducked below view for a moment. He popped back up holding a small box in both hands. It was fairly heavy, but otherwise was nondescript.

He returned to Mike and set the box down on the table next to him.

Mike looked eagerly at the box.

“50,000 strips of gold pressed latinum” Jassad said, lifting the cover to reveal the many gold bars contained within.

‘Ha! You’ve surprised me again spoonhead! I hope this is building to how you are going to get me out of the cloud.”

Jassad frowned at the casual use of the offensive slur. “If you want my help in getting out of the cloud, then I need to know I can count on you. Your actions this morning have not helped your case.” he admitted. “Your task, It’s actually quite simple. There is a Klingon body in the xeno section residential area that is in need of disposal.”

“A Klingon? This is entirely contingent on how long he has been dead. When did he check out?”

“The details are unimportant, but I can assure you the Klingon is quite dead, and his quarters have been thus far undisturbed. Though it won’t stay that way for long.”

“What will I do with a big ol’ stinky Klingon? I have noticed a distinct lack of industrial trash bins around here. If he falls apart when I pick him up I am done-that is beyond even my limits. I suppose you have a plan?”

Jassad flashed a toothy grin, “Download that databank you brought into my replicator back there, and then replicate a Klingon disruptor, show up at the victims quarters, and fire a single high powered shot into the body and it will disintegrate.” Jassad said pulling a PADD from his vest. He tapped a few buttons to call up the coordinates for Mike and passed him the device.

“So, is this building towards me leaving this nasty pink cloud or not? Money isn’t sufficient in the long term.”

“Patience Officer,” Jassad chided. “You will have four to five minutes to dispose of the weapon before security shows up, and then it is imperative you find your way back the bar, and take a place at the gaming table in the far back” Jassad indicated with his hand, “There will be 2 Ferengi and Romulan that have been well paid in advance to provide an alibi for you. Play on the table for an hour, and you will find you have won several jackpots providing you with an additional 100,000 strips of gold pressed latinum.”

“Listen to you Jassad! You’re a regular old con-artist aren’t you?,” Mike said. “Rigged jackpots and dead Klingons? I think its you who’s read too many Holo Novels. Can we have code names? We can call you spoony, and I can be The Grand Master”

“Mike...” Jassad said spreading his hands. “....a middle aged man in Starfleet that has managed only one promotion in all this time, you aren't fooling anyone. This is your chance to prove you aren't the pathetic waste of matter that has plagued the decks of your starship for year after year. Hell, your shipmates might even [i[respect[/i] you after this is all said and done.” Jassad said coldly.

Mike just stood there a moment, and Jassad wasn’t sure if he had pushed the hopeless man too far or not. Finally he looked at his shoes and then back up at Jassad now speaking.

"I don't think you understand me at all. I don't care about promotions, and a certainly don't care about the respect of a bunch of stuffy officers. The Tervidians are going to one day look at me, they will charge me with all kinds of insane feminist laws, and they will destroy me. Take the database, but just....just get me the hell of this station! Get me out off this smothering cloud! Do you have the means!? I will do ANYTHING to leave!”

Jassad saw desperation in Mike, the same kind of desperation that Nala and Thoris had shown. If guided discretely it would serve his purposes well, but if the desperation was not properly fueled, not satiated at the right times, it could lead to a rogue accomplice. Reckless associates could ruin everything for him. These Starfleet officers could undo the last 20 years of planning in one fell swoop. All the positioning, all the buy offs, the hard work Jassad had made establishing his presence in the xenosphere, all of it could be dashed by human naivety and urgency.

“Trust me Mike, if you take care of this for me, it will get you, and your ship off of this station. I have already taken actions to protect your crew’s chances of leaving, but if that body is found, it will ruin everything...” Jassad looked Mike straight in the eyes, “Can I count on you?”

Mike looked Jassad directly in the eyes and whispered, "Anything to leave."


************
This has been a joint post by

Lieutenant junior grade Michael Luther (Jon)
Chief Communications Officer
USS Yorktown

Jassad Tain (David)
Bar Owner
Tervidian Spacestation

Dorvin Tain (David)
Bar Worker
Tervidian Spacestation

***Mission 2, Day 4,1155 hours***

She had seen their stares, and heard their murmurings, and she had expected them.

“What is she doing here?!”

“Look! Its her!”

“I never thought I would see the day...”

“What have they done to her eyes!?”

“That bitch killed David!”

Yet Vestara held her head high, and walked onward with purpose and dignity. Was it easy? Hell no! It was no doubt one of the most difficult things she had ever done. But it was necessary, and Vestara was determined to embrace it. A part of her wanted to beg her old friends and associates for forgiveness. She wanted them to know of the deep remorse she felt, and that she took full responsibility for any pain and betrayal they had felt because of what she had done. But she knew her remarks would fall on deaf ears. She would forever be a scorned outcast on this ship, which was no less than she deserved. While Sumo was responsible for much of the crews anguish they had suffered, she would always be linked with him, and no amount of evidence that she had been coerced would alter the damning verdict of popular opinion.

Regardless of the amount of loathing she could sense being projected at her, she felt perfectly safe aboard her old vessel. This was mostly attributed to the well armored pair of Grumatals that flanked her. It almost gave her a sense of power. The Tervidian culture valued the female sex, and that respect seemed to be echoed by the aliens indentured to the Tervidian empire. It was an empowering feeling, and she had embraced it wholly, as the alternative was to stay in her cell wallowing in self pity and regret. In the course of 24 hours she had been lifted up, received a new pair of eyes, and been presented the opportunity to track down and apprehend Sumo. In truth she had no interest in presenting Sumo to the Tervidians. She intended to kill him herself. A slow, painful, and deliberate death. And she would relish every minute of it. Her skin tingled at the thought of hearing him scream and beg for mercy. The thought however faded quickly as she recognized they had arrived at the ships morgue.

“Wait here” she commanded the escort, who nodded and assumed defensive positions on either side of the door. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, before taking a step forward into the dark room, lit with a pale blue light emanating from various stasis fields.

She made her way deeper into the room, as the doors slid shut behind her. She paused a moment to look at the few beds with stasis fields activated. There were only 2, and with one supporting a female Bajoran, the other, clearly was holding David. She started towards it, holding her breath. As she neared ever closer to David, a cold fear gripped at her heart. This was wrong. She shouldn’t be here. She froze on the spot and looked away, unable to bring herself to look upon his handsome face.

You have to do this Vestara, you can never move on until you confront this moment she told herself.

She closed her eyes as she felt tears form in her repaired sockets. Sighing again, she opened her eyes, and wiped the tears away. She reached up to a control panel next to the biobed, and deactivated the stasis field. She looked down at the man she had married, had given her heart to, and whose throat she had viciously slit on that fateful day in the cargo bay.

His body had been cleaned, the damage to his throat repaired, and much to Vestara’s relief he looked peaceful... She ran her hand through his thick brown hair, memories of how he always loved it when she did that, played through her mind.

She thought of the first day they met, there had been an emergency evacuation drill Drexel was putting the ship through. David and Vestara were the only people in their particular escape pod when it launched from the ship, and unbeknownst to them the signal beacon had malfunctioned. They had spent 11 hours together in the cramped pod, where the seeds of their relationship had been planted, and would soon blossom. She remember laughing at his bad jokes, remembered the look on his face the first time she had tried cooking for him, not realizing he was allergic to shellfish, and having to beam him directly to Sickbay for Doctor Wells to treat him. She remembered the day he proposed to her on Risa. They had taken shore leave together to the resort planet, and he had popped the question after a long night of passionate lovemaking. He had sworn up and down that he had something more romantic planned for the occasion, but in typical David Mayne fashion, he just kind of bumbled through the proposal, naked, on the side of the bed. She laughed in spite of herself.

“Oh David....” she said softly, now caressing his cheek. “You were always so good to me...” her voice cracked as she fought back wave after wave of emotion that came crashing through her body. “Always putting me first...” her voice was a squeak now. And then she couldn't resist the torrent of tears that had built up. She wailed loudly, dropping her chin to her chest. She sobbed for what felt like seconds or hours or years, exactly which it was she couldn’t tell. Her nose and eyes dripped heavily as a result. “You deserved better than this” she said finally, raising her head and looking down at his lifeless form. “I take full responsibility for the part i played in your death, but I swear to you....” she sniffled and wiped her eyes and nose with her sleeve, “I swear I will not rest until Sumo lies dead at my feet. I swear to always carry your name, to remind me of my failures as your wife, and to power my thirst for vengeance.” she said clenching her fists into tight balls. “I will always love you” she whispered softly, and leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“Goodbye, David” she said patting his hand, and taking it between both of hers. She felt a scratch on his palm and turned his hand over to give it a look. Sure enough there was a small scar on his palm. She checked his other one, and the same wound appeared there. She had no idea what the scar was from, though it didn’t look very old. Sadly, David would not be able to tell her the story of how he had received them, though she was sure it would have been an interesting tale. Satisfied that she had made peace with herself and her husband, she reactivated the stasis field, and took one last look at her husband, then slowly turned around and exited the room.

**********
Vestara Mayne
Indentured servant of the Queen
USS Yorktown

***Day 4 0850 hours***

“Nala,” Thoris called out, barging into the Sickbay, “we need to talk. Privately.” He followed her into her office and shut the door. “I think we made a grave mistake.” There were signs that he wasn’t physically feeling at his best, and bruises here and there on his skin were beginning to show.

The Commanders entrance into the sickbay startled Nala. Glancing at him, noting his many bruises, she looked up at him questioningly. “What happened to you?”

“I tried to take that Khan guy on. Civilly.” Thoris grinned, but quickly returned to a more serious expression. “Arron won’t be able to see you during the trial.” His mouth remained open after he reported that line, but he didn’t know what more to add.

“What are you talking about? Why won’t he be able to see me? There's got to be a way, we've got to find a way. Please, isn't there any way?!" she questioned, a pleading look in her eyes.

“The Tervidians don’t try their prisoners publicly.” Thoris paused, reflecting on the conversation with the Cardassian barkeep. ”I mean, not at all. We cannot be present so that Arron will see you. The plan won’t work as it currently is.”

"We've got to find a way to make it work then. They can't get away with keeping us all here, trying our men under their crazy laws. And not just us, we must remember our deal with Jassad. Speaking of him, where is our "hit man"?" She asked.

“I...I haven’t been able to find the guy...” Thoris confessed. “It’s not hard to find a Klingon, they aren’t very well-known for stealth.” He took a moment to let it soak in. “I have no idea what he has planned at the moment. For all I know, he ran off with our gold-pressed latinum. Worse, he’s got the money and wants to kill you.”

Nala's eyes widened as she realized she could actually be in danger. "We have to find him. Maybe he's just really focused on how to make this work?" She said, choosing to focus on the less morbid explanation.

“I hope so. It might be best if we have a security officer with you wherever you are on the station.” He looked away briefly. “Worst case, I suppose we stop him at the trial, but then we’ll be found out.”

Nala sighed, closing her eyes as she thought. Things certainly weren’t going as they had planned. But she was hopeful that they could get out of this cloud, hopeful they could help Jassad and his son as well.

Thoris wandered over to the side of the desk and sat on the ledge, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What were we thinking? Plotting an assassination? We aren’t killers...”

It's not like we were ACTUALLY going to kill someone...she thought to herself, watching Thoris closely.

A chime was heard from the office door. Thoris looked cautiously at Nala, and turned to open the door, finding a medical officer mentioning something about someone who wanted to speak with him. “Give me a moment,” he told him and turned back to Nala. “I’m not sure if we should consult Jassad again, seems like a cowardice move. But...well, we’ll have to talk later.”

He re-opened the door and scanned the room for whoever it was that wanted to speak with him.

* * *

This has been a joint post by

Commander Thoris ch'Tell
Acting Commanding Officer
USS Yorktown

Lt. j/g Nala Koshka
Head Nurse
USS Yorktown

Mission 2 Day 4, 9:20 Hours

Gulsan Fusek breathed a sigh of relief once he was back on board the Yorktown. The Tervidians had offered to let him tour one of their ships. A captain Gisberon had shown him around what looked in size to be similar to a defiant class vessel. But the Garethon, Gisberon’s ship, was a lot more than that. He had to report to the captain...no...Commander Ch’tell. It was confusing, and a waste of time and a mutiny to try and take over a ship only to have the captain resign afterward. There were rumors on board that Sumo had staged the whole thing just to take Councilor Roux and split. That could have been done much more quietly, and without wrecking so much havoc on his engineering bay. He’d always thought of it as his territory. Without David Mayne that thought had changed from a pleasant identification to an obnoxious reality. Regardless, there were things that whoever was in charge needed to be aware of, and he was the man with the information.

"Computer, locate Commander Ch'Tell."

"Acting Captain Ch'Tell is in sickbay." The computer replied. Acting captain...who updated her to call him acting captain? And what is he doing in sickbay? He wasted no time getting to sickbay. He inquired after Commander Ch'tell and waited for an audience with the acting captain.

At this time, Thoris was for some reason in Sickbay conversing with Nurse Koshka in her office. One of the medical officers chimed at the door, signalling for Thoris. He finished up the conversation quickly and stepped out, letting the nurse attend to her former task. “Who is it?” he asked, looking around the room.

“Commander,” the Orion began with a salute.

“Lieutenant junior-grade Fusek,” Thoris returned, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “How was your tour of the warship?”

“Their technology is very impressive, though it has some holes.” Gulsan said.

Thoris’ antennae straightened curiously. “Er, holes?”

“Well, for example, they don’t use replicators,” Gulsan reported.”I’ve seen them on the station, but the ships don’t have them. There is a galley, and a refrigeration section, and tanks of water and other vital liquids. They have repair shops and ammunition caches aboard their ships instead of replicating tools and weapons. Their supplies are finite.”

Thoris recalled that was also a characteristic of their weaponry. “That is curious,” he said with a frown.

“That not all,” Gulsan continued. “This nebula is made up of dilithium gas.”

“Lieutenant, I am having trouble believing you just figured that out. Why point out the obvious?”

“Because they build their vessels out of a combination of very strong metals and dilithium crystals, which they have in quantities I have never in my life encountered on just that one ship, because they also have antimatter in quantities that I have never in my life encountered.”

Thoris’ eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Imagine our warp core,” the Orion elaborated. “Now make it eight times the size with a higher antimatter concentration by about 60%. The particle level explosions involved in a reactor of that nature could rip any starship from any race in the known universe to pieces. We use dilithium to contain that explosion and act as a neutralizer to power our ships and allow warp drives to function. The Garethon, the ship I toured, is set up so that the entire ship acts as the neutralizer, with the cloud around it helping to dissipate any excess from the matter-antimatter collisions.”

Thoris wasn’t sure he caught on with the description--mostly because the whole idea seemed ludicrous. The ship itself acted as the regulating medium? Did it have an effect on the crew at all?

“They also do not use transporters. I suspect it may have something to do with the potential destabilizing impact of the gas, or the antimatter, or both, but they walk or fly everywhere.”

“It makes sense, in a way,” Thoris noted. “Funny how this nebula has changed their way of life completely. Technology, weaponry, power...”

“It is somewhat amazing. If they used the amount of power they have we could transport someone from here all the way to earth.”

“Which makes things very interesting. They are sitting in a source of huge amounts of potential, essentially more power than any other race in the galaxy. Any other race would abuse that power and go conquering other civilizations, and yet here they wait in their cloud as if they found their Sha Ka Ree...” Thoris paused for a second, wondering about the old legends.

“There are other things,” Gulsan said. “Their torpedos.”

Thoris looked up at Gulsan, confused. “What about them?”

“They have some smaller, very fast ones they refer to as missiles with an exterior casing intended for breaching shields and an interior device used to target and rip open specific sections of hull,” the Orion let out a sigh and adjusted his collar. It itched. Some days he hated the uniform. He’d seen some Tervidian males outside of their battle armor on the ship. Their vests looked like a much better way to go as far as he was concerned. No itchy collar, great way to show off an Orion’s natural musculature. “They range from those little ones to warheads the size of a small fighter craft.”

“Not many races in the Queen’s cloud to conquer, I think, but I understand what the larger ones could be used for.” Thoris reflected back to his conversation with Khan Terroth.

“I saw one being worked on in their cargo bay and I asked about it,” Gulsan shrugged. “Captain Gisberon was only too happy to tell me about it. He’s an old grunt ascended through the ranks and he likes his toys.”

Thoris remained silent and continued to listen.

“I asked who piloted the small fighters. He laughed and told me that no one piloted them in most cases, they weren’t a people suited for that kind of suicide run. He went on to show me. The things have are capable of warp 2, are shielded, cloakable, and carry an anti-matter payload large enough to power a defiant class vessel. As a science officer, I don’t suppose I need to tell you what that could do slamming against a starship hull, or even the shields.”

Thoris simply shook his head.

“The positive side is that they only carry so many,” the Orion smiled. “Big guns require big ammunition, sir. It may be why they travel in such great numbers, to win the battle before they run out of shots, but it is a weakness.”

“That’s...something.” Thoris had been looking for a Tervidian weakness for a while, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to look for one anymore, given recent events. “Anything else?”

“I can detail more about layout, capabilities, and a few things I learned about their battlesuits,” Gulsan continued, “but there is one more detail about their engines that I thought was of note. They don’t have much by way of warp drives. I think the Garthon could make warp 5 at best. They have the power to do more. They have the engines to do more. They just aren’t set up for it. Given a day, maybe two, our engineering crew could take the power in that ship and triple the speed. But for whatever reason, they haven’t.”

There was that thing with the power, again. Tervidians just weren’t living to their potential. It was something to be grateful for, but curiosity demanded more of an explanation. “Something is holding them back. Something there, but not easily unseen.” Thoris thought back to his sparring match earlier that morning. The Khan was obviously holding back--he wasn’t sure if it was arrogance or pity, but he had managed to scratch him up just a little bit. Considering both of their training, Thoris should have had no chance period. Was the same thing at play? “Something is holding back. If they are being coerced, we need to find out what it is. If it is by their choice, we need to know why. Lt. Fusek, would you write up a report of your findings, and supplement a brief report of what you would have to do to refit one of their vessels to make it go faster?”

“Yes, sir,” Gulsan saluted again. “I will have that report to you by 13:00 hours.”

The Orion turned and headed off in the direction of engineering.


Gulsan Fulsek
Engineer
USS Yorktown


Commander Thoris Ch'tell
Acting Captain
USS Yorktown

Pots and Kettles

****Mission 2, Day 4, 1309 hours****

"This isn't the drink I ordered!" growled the Byzallian, who promptly emptied the tall glass by pouring it all over the counter. He then slid the glass across the wet surface, and added, "Now do it right this time"
"I got this, Dad" said Dorvin who had intercepted the glass, and dropped a dry towel on the counter to begin mopping up the mess. "You okay?" his son added, speaking quietly from the corner of his mouth. "You seem pretty distracted today"

It was a fair observation Jassad noted. He had spent most of his shift watching every patron that entered his bar, expecting it to be Luther. Before he could answer his son, a face caught his eye, and not because it was one he was expecting, far from it. It was a Cardassian, and it wasn't one he was familiar with.

"Check out our friend here," Jassad said under his breath, and directing his sons attention with a sharp movement of his eyes.

Dorvin had just replaced his now wet towel with a fresh one, and gave the counter a final wipe. "Who is he?" he said cautiously.

"I don't know...and that's what concerns me." Jassad admitted. His intricate knowledge of the stations manifest had served him well in the past, and when a Cardassian showed up hitherto unknown, on today of all days, it set off alarm bells in his head. "Let's just watch him a moment."

The new Cardassian meandered through the lunch hour crowd, and discovered a recently vacated stool halfway down the bar. He slid on to it casually, though Jassad was keenly aware of the fact that something bulky was hidden beneath his tunic, as the motion revealed an outline on the left side of his torso. Assuming he was armed, and not many people in the xeno section were, Jassad took a calming breath and headed towards the new customer, "I will see to him." Jassad said passing his offspring. "Just...keep an eye out, okay?"

"Sure thing..." Dorvin said as he finished replacing the drink for the irritated Byzallian.

Jassad found his old bottle of Kanar and grabbed 2 empty glasses. He watched the Cardassian out of the corner of his eye. So far he had slid a menu datapad over and seemed to be scanning the drink items.

"You won't find this on there" Jassad said smiling to the mysterious man, and thumping the bottle down to attract the Cardassian's attention to it. He set the glasses down, clattering them together as he did so. "First one is on me" he said, "I don't get a chance to drink Kanar with a fellow Cardassian very often"

"That is unfortunate. I'm rather fond of the company of my fellow kind."

"What's your name, friend?" Jassad asked casually.

"My name is not important here, friend."

"I see" said Jassad, wondering what was meant by that, but he kept is face unreadable as he continued, "Well what brings you to my bar?" He poured two glasses of Kanar, and slid one in front of the other Cardassian.

"I had heard you were a man of many talents, Jassad," the man replied, laying down a black piece of igneous rock on the bar's smooth surface. It's jagged edged facets glinted, reflecting the neon lights of The Liquid Cloud. "I know someone who would like to discuss them with you."

Jassad eyed the rock warily as he considered what he was just told. He had been called by his name, though Jassad had not given it. The Cardassian was obviously aware of who Jassad was, though he was fairly well known on Laratha station. Still...it was unsettling. "There are many things one could consider a talent," the bartender said smoothly, "Though I am not one for song and dance myself"

"Me neither, never had the legs for it," he leaned back and visually scanned the patrons of the bar. "I did, however, learn a little bit about geology. Did you know, for instance that that rock is made from the heat and pressure of volcanic activity?"

Looking for any meaning behind the statement, Jassad mulled it over a moment, and dropped his gaze to the rock. "I'm sure there is someone who would be quite interested in such an artifact. Maybe even in this bar, I however, care little for such things" He took a sip of his Kanar, and savored the flavor before swallowing.

"It has marvelous properties," he continued. "It is very sharp. In fact, almost every primitive species uses it during their early development for tools. It is great for slicing, cutting, stabbing; truly marvelous."

The word 'stabbing' caused Jassad to look up from the rock, to the man speaking. He cocked his eyebrow and made a practiced facial expression to feign interest.

"However, when it bends it tends to break," he looked Jassad in the eye and smiled. "Doesn't do so well under intense pressure either. So while it is sharp, most intelligent species move on to stone and from there to metal."

Jassad was growing more and more uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going, and was equally as suspicious of the mans motives for such a conversation. "Again, I am a bartender, not a geologist. I see little use for such an object unless as a new surface for my aging counter top here." Jassad rapped it twice with his knuckles for emphasis. "I do hope for your sake, your interest in me is not as a buyer for such a material. I hate disappointing new customers." He said with a shrug.

"An obsidian countertop? That would be an irony," he took a long drought of Kanar. "There are other ironies at work here though. For instance, just as you are found in need by the state you find yourself in a position to need the state."

Jassad raised his glass to the comment. "I can drink to that" he said finishing off his drink. "I would love to hear what other wisdom you might impart on me. Shall we take this bottle to a private table?"

"I think I would enjoy that immensely."

"I keep a personal table open in the back corner, it's relatively quiet, and we can talk about the glory days of the Cardassian empire" Jassad said flashing his friendliest smile.

"Before the war," he said, returning the smile and raising his glass in salute. "Lead the way."

Jassad gave the slightest of winks to his son, as he passed him by, leading the nameless Cardassian to his private booth that he seemed to have been using far more regularly these days.

He slid into the comfortable seat, pouring himself a refill, and offered the bottle to the newcomer, also taking a seat. "More?"

"Just one, friend," he said courteously. "I make it a point never to drink more than I can swallow."

"I am curious" Jassad said after capping the bottle, "I have not seen your face around here, yet I take a particular pride in knowing most people who visit this establishment. Either you have been avoiding what is easily the best bar in the cloud...or you are new. And I don't know which answer i find more troubling" Jassad said taking a drink and studying his counterpart.

"Then it will please you to know that neither is true." The Cardassian finished his glass and set it gently on the table. "I have been in this bar on several occasions, and I remember when your ship came to the cloud, though I suppose that I must admit that Laratha Station is not where I have spent the majority of my time."

"My mistake then," Jassad said offering a warm smile, though internally he was not sure how truthful the Cardassian sitting across from him was being. What could have this man been doing outside of Laratha station? Xenos served the queen throughout the cloud, but in his experience it was extraordinarily uncommon for a Cardassian to be anywhere other than the station. "So..." Jassad said, watching his guest closely, "What exactly have you been doing?"


"Serving the state," he smiled. "That is what we do best, after all."

"Right ," said Jassad, raising his glass in agreement and then finishing the shot. "And what is it your friend wants from me?" he queried finally addressing what the Cardassian had said earlier about his 'talents'.

"I do not know if this story was told in your home part of Cardassia, but it was a fable in mine, and I would like to rehearse it to you before we continue if you would so indulge me."

"I always enjoy a good story" Jassad said, now leaning back in the booth to get comfortable.

"There was a man who befriended and trained a bird, and it carried messages for him to all his friends. One day a giant came and enslaved many of the man's friends and kindred. When the giant came for the man he instead offered up his bird. 'He is the most beautiful thing in all the land,' the man told him. 'He sings, he talks, he repeats what is going on in the world. You will love him.' The giant, having already rounded up all the other people nearby, concluded that one more man was certainly less of a contribution to his wealth than such a useful bird. The man handed over his avian friend along with the admonition that if the giant wanted to know what was going on with the world he should release it every afternoon and expect its return every evening. The giant did so and marveled at the things the bird returned to tell him each night. One night the bird told the giant of a great caravan of riches passing nearby. The giant went off to investigate. While he was away, the man, who had fed the bird every afternoon and told it exactly what to say, came in and freed his friends and kindred and armed them. The giant came home very drunk that night, for the riches of the caravan were largely in fine Kanar. While he slept his captives fell upon him, slew him, took his riches and returned to their homes all the wealthier."

Jassad blinked several times, not sure if the kanar was interfering with his ability to process the reasoning behind story, but he couldn't fathom why the man had told it. Of course he was familiar with it. Variations of the tale were told to all Cardassian children as they grew up. He had told the story to his own son several times when he was younger. But right now he failed to see the relevance behind it.

"You have spent too long in the cloud friend" Jassad said finally.

"Someone recently gave you a little bird as collateral in a deal," the Cardassian replied. "I suggest you let it sit in its cage before we continue our evening. Birds grow tiresome after a time."

With a cocked eyebrow Jassad looked quizzically back at the mysterious Cardassian. "How do you know about that?" He said reaching into his pocket and retrieving Thoris's starfleet commbadge. He flicked it on to the table as a show of good faith.

"You were a member of the obsidian order and you have to ask how the state knows about the communication devices of familiar strangers?" He tsked. "Jassad, I do believe it is you that has spent far too long in the cloud."

"You better start providing some answers, especially if you expect things to remain amicable." Jassad said putting some steel into his voice. "What does your friend need from me?" he repeated the unanswered question from earlier.

"Service to the state."

Jassad frowned. "In what capacity?"

"I will let my employer explain those intentions in whatever manner is deemed most appropriate."

Jassad gave off the impression that he was considering the request. "I don't know, I have a good thing going here with my bar. You haven't provided me with any reason to trust you," he said gesturing to their surroundings. "I am not sure I really have the need to take on any....extra work. What is in it for me?" he said straightening up and reaching out for the bottle of Kanar for yet another refill.

"Absolution."

The barkeepers hand had frozen mid reach and he looked up to study the other Cardassians face, and read no deception in his eyes. Jassad shrugged off the comment. "That is a lofty claim from one without any authority to execute it." He clasped the bottle in his hand and uncorked it again. "Who exactly is your employer?" he asked as he poured the thick liquid into his glass.

"Someone who can offer you absolution, and possibly more," the nameless Cardassian leaned forward and looked at Jassad closely. "Someone who knows absolution is something you are in need of now."

Jassad laughed. "The same could be said of just about every person in this bar" was his dismissive reply, yet inside a cacophony of alarm bells were going off.

"Is it always so stuffy in here?" the man asked. "I swear, it always feels like someone cut off the flow of oxygen to the room. What do you say you and I go for a walk?"

Jassad reached for his glass again with his right hand, his left dropping nonchalantly to his side, where he double checked that he had a parang sheathed discretely under his vest. Satisfied that he had the means to defend himself should the need arise, he drained his final glass of kanar and turned it upside down indicating he was done drinking. He made a show of glancing around the bar to see how busy the establishment was. "The mid day crowd seems to be tapering off" Jassad announced with a curt nod, "I believe I can spare a few minutes" he said standing slowly, knowing he needed to find out exactly how much this Cardassian and his supposed employer knew about him and his recent activities. "Please lead on"

********

The man led him through the Xeno section toward the spine, the central spire that supported the rest of this end of the station. It was rumored that if one had the correct pass codes they could travel from one end of the station to the other. They entered a shop filled with tanks if fish from the various planets of the nebula. The shopkeep saw them and tipped his hat. At the back of the shop they entered a broom closet. The Cardassian pushed aside a mop bucket and opened a panel in the floor. The wall hissed slightly then opened to reveal a short corridor. At its end was a man Jassad was familiar with. He was a veteran of the 6th legion, impressed for attempting to flee the cloud shortly after Jassad's arrival.

"You have got to be kidding" Jassad said as he approached Tendril, the Denobulan who had a bad habit of losing his entire wages on a weekly basis at Jassad's gaming tables. "Tell me Tendril, are you paying off another gambling debt, or was that all a ruse and you have simply been the one feeding information to the Tervies?" he said menacingly as he neared.

"Do I owe you money?" Tendril asked slowly with a furrowed brow. "I'm afraid I can't remember the final scores."

"You will owe me your life if I find you have anything to do with this" said Jassad, his eyes narrowing.

"You'll have to define 'this' for me sometime," Tendril smirked, then hiccuped. "I'm just here to open a door."

He and the Cardassian both entered passcodes into a panel labeled in old Tervidian lettering. The wall began rotating and a turbo lift door was revealed.

"Where exactly are we going?" Jassad said taking note of their surroundings. He had never been to this part of the station before, and he was mentally mapping out every detail he could. You never knew when such information would be required, or how valuable it could be to someone with deep pockets.

"Up."

Jassad grew more and more frustrated with the lack of answers he was receiving. He thought about stabbing the stranger right here in the lift with his parang and leaving him to die. However that would be counter productive to his true goal and would likely end up getting him killed in the process. He settled for a deep exhale and kept his hands non threateningly at his sides.

Up, up and up they went. The gravity increased and decreased on several occasions, finally ending at about what the Tervies considered -2. The door slid open revealing another hallway, this time guarded by two battle armored Xenos. The Cardassian gestured for him to move forward.

Great Jassad thought, Straight into the belly of the beast. Starting to think he had been a fool to follow the Cardassian this long, and that it was all a ploy to apprehend him discretely for the 2 murders he had committed last night, his mind started scrambling for a plan to escape. It would have been foolhardy of course, but it was always better to go down fighting than succumb to a mind wipe and lose his identity forever.

The hallway door opened to a small antechamber with two more guards. His Cardassian escort made an entry into a terminal on the opposite wall. There was a quick buzz and a holographic section of wall vanished revealing a heavy wooden Tervidian sized door with carved lettering and figures covering every square inch. The handle and knocker were polished bronze with crystals set in them. The Cardassian gestured for him to enter.

"What will I find inside?" Jassad said, deciding now was the last chance to make a stand if he didnt get an answer he liked.

"Answers," the Cardassian shrugged. "Perhaps more questions."

Jassad made no effort to hide the look of annoyance he felt towards the mysterious Cardassian. He simply shook his head and consigned himself to fate, and stepped through the door.

Inside the walls were clear. This was some kind of observation deck looking out into the swirling blue cloud.

"It's beautiful, isn't it Jassad?" said a deep, clear voice. He wore officer's light armor with the accoutrements of command.

"Easily one of the most impressive visuals I have ever seen" Jassad admitted stoically.

"And yet you have always been eager to leave us." As he turned to face Jassad his identity became clear. His face was seen on legion broadcasts. His uniform was patterned in the symbols of wisdom, power, and command. The star of the Queen's High Favor, a mark of valor, sat prominently on his left shoulder. This was Horthik, Lord Commander of the 14th legion. Some had called him the Queen's dragon. Others called him the 14th snake. Jassad had simply referred to him as the local Tervie-in-chief, but in person Lord Commander seemed an accurate term. The man owned the room in shear demeanor. The tone on his voice, though not pompous, indicated a man in control.

"I would be doing myself and my son a disservice if I aspired for anything else" he said coolly.

"You may say you've done him a disservice by not exploring more of the cloud and its many wonders," replied Horthik. "You have spent twenty years trying to scratch out the opportunity to escape without ever truly understanding what you were escaping from."

"Forgive me Lord Commander, the only thing I wish is to return home to my people. I have heard Cardassia has changed much since the Dominion War, and I would love to show my son what it truly means to be Cardassian." Jassad said with much pride in his voice. "Had you been away from home for 20 years, wouldn't you also make every effort to return home...to this?" Jassad said indicating the beauty that surrounded them.

"I suppose that is true," Horthik said. "Tell me, Jassad, what makes a person who has worked so diligently to build a life take swift action with the potential to bring it crashing down?"

"It's like we say on Cardassia," Jassad said, "Potential is a double edged sword. There is always a winner and loser in every decision process. I am merely playing my cards to ensure no matter the outcome, I come out a winner."
"I'm just trying to understand you better."

Jassad nodded, "Of course, Lord Commander." His mind was racing at warp speed. He still had no clue what he was doing here. Was this a trap? An execution? or something else entirely. Horthek must have sensed Jassad's wariness because he spoke up again.

"I am going to tell you two stories, Jassad, that I hope will help you understand me better."

"Oh great, another story." Jassad muttered under his breath. "I do hope it isn't another silly children's fable. I am growing tired of anecdotes." He said, hoping to dispense with preamble and get right to the point.

"The only thing silly here is your presumption that anything is happening on your timescale, or even that you have a timescale," Horthik replied. "Are you ready to listen or have you had too much of that gretnetgar piss you call Kanar to be sensible?"

Jassad cocked a half smile, "it's an acquired taste" he admitted. "Pay my impudence no attention High Lord, I mean no disrespect."

"Don't you?" The Lord Commander took a long look out at the mists before gesturing toward the deeper parts of the nebula. "Six hundred years back a Tervidian scientist who looked at the abundance of resources in the cloud, the formation of it, the density at the center, the creatures that live there, the diversity of life in the rest of the cloud, and data about the void and said to himself 'this is no accident.' He came up with a theory that the matter trapped in the black holes in the void had to go somewhere and that someone was the cloud. This theory was harmless in and if itself, but the ramifications of it had a potentially catastrophic effect on our society. While the scientist thought only of explaining an otherwise inexplicable concentration of resources the rulers, theologians, and philosophers were answering a different set of questions. The interpretation that we weren't inherently privileged in our superiority but just happened to be the kings and queens of the galactic garbage shoot did not support the prevailing thought of the day."

"From my understanding, your people have had many internal conflicts of differing theories that have escalated into bloodshed. What happened?"

"They let him test his theory, and committed an entire legion to the effort. They flew bravely into the Garedzek ready to search for evidence brcause the queen wanted the matter settled. The legion returned with 1/3 strength, half a juggernaut, and no scientist. The heart of the cloud is a dangerous place. The matter remains unresolved."

"Honestly wouldn't it be better to settle outside the cloud and face the known dangers of the Alpha Quadrant rather than the terrors that lurk in the cloud?" Jassad said, mostly to stall for time as he continued to work out a plan to get him out of a situation in which he was surely about to die.

"There are those who have voiced such an opinion in the past," The Lord Commander conceded. "I'm sure you can take an accurate measure of their success without much effort on your part."

"Surely" agreed Jassad.

"Two hundred years ago two legions were given seemingly conflicting orders. The twelfth legion was ordered to blockade a certain territory and let no one pass without the express permission of the queen. The thirty-second legion was ordered to head for a certain system by the quickest means possible. Coincidentally, the quickest means crossed through the blockade zone. The density of the cloud prevented communications to the throne would, and so when the orders conflicted each legion opted to carry out their orders to the best of their ability."

"I'm guessing there was a skirmish?"

"They obliterated each other."

"Look, you guys have a fascinating history, but honestly I am just a simple bartender. Now if you are looking for a place to screen a holo-film, or-" Jassad was cut off by the Tervidian.

"Dylark is a simple bar tender." The volume of The Lord Commander's voice had not increased, but there was a sharpness on his voice that commanded obedience. "You are no more simple than I am a patron of your bar tending. When you leave this chamber you can continue your ruse, but in here, with me, you will act as exactly what you are, and nothing else. Do I make myself clear?"

"Unequivocally, Lord Commander" Jassad said unflinching from Horthik's gaze.

"I am an honorable servant of the queen, may her glory never fade. This is a conscious decision on my part. Queen Tervathaki the mighty and fair is exactly that. Most of my compatriots, however, are religious zealots, not so much in the sense of our placement by the creators of the cloud and the divine importance of our stewardship therein as that it is the Queen who truly matters and her defense and her will are of divine import, of such import that they are willing to kill and die for it.That kind of faith doesn't just move mountains, Jassad; that kind of faith moves fleets, moves armies, moves the power to destroy planets. That kind of faith will ignore the obvious to fulfill the perceived will of the divine. When they say 'may her glory never fade' it is a prayer, their sincerest wish. In that sense, creators forgive me, I am an unbeliever. But I take that statement seriously. 'May her glory never fade,' has meaning to me. I am responsible for the actions of the 14th legion. I am responsible for their lives and the lives of those we protect in our jurisdiction be they Tervidian, Xenocitizen, or rogue drifters like these star fleet fools. The glory of the queen, her light, doesn't just shine because of her divine appointment; the glory of the queen shines because of her people. If her glory fades it is because her people are fading."

Jassad nodded, "So you believe your people are fading?" Had he misread the situation? Perhaps this wasn't really about him at all. His paranoia had been debilitating his thoughts. He silently cursed himself for being so shortsighted. What he had just heard was huge. There was dissent among the ranks of the Tervidians. A crack in their mighty armor. A weakness.

"Fading would not be an apt description. Think of it more as a fire that must be tended. Without someone to stoke the flames they smolder and the darkness creeps closer. Eventually the flames go out, and only hot coals remain." The Lord Commander faced Jassad directly. "You are an intelligent man, Jassad, and until recently your actions have always been prudent. Desperation makes for strange alliances. Your new friends, for example. They have chosen to ally with an old enemy, the evil they know, rather than simply face the new. You, seeing potential opportunity, have entertained their fancy. Being a prudent man you have also made arrangements to avoid their catastrophic failure in hopes of keeping alive your own desperate hope of escape."

"I like to keep my options open" Jassad said confidently. There was no point in denying anything at this point. Honesty at this moment was going to be the catalyst to change Jassad's fortunes. It was an electric feeling, and it caused his skin to tingle in anticipation.

"I mean to give you an opportunity to keep hope alive."

"I have never been more interested" Jassad said, with a sly grin.

"You are going to represent me on board the Yorktown ," Horthik said calmly. "The queen and her Viceroy have a plan for them. The crew need the evil they know to talk them through dealing with the power they don't. I don't care how you get aboard. You can stow away in some manner you arrange with the drunkard or the desperate nurse, or if you prefer we'll slap a uniform on you as the queen's designated requisition officer. It makes little difference to me so long as in so doing you report back to me regularly and you protect the best interest of the cloud."

"You are no doubt aware at this point that I have already taken actions to effect such an outcome" Jassad said keeping his eyes on the Tervidian. "I assume you have an incentive to ensure my loyalty?"

"I offer in exchange, the opportunity to leave freely with your son and with your memories intact. Once the Yorktown has completed its mission and returned to the cloud you and your son will be free to leave as agents of the queendom in the void."

Jassad was silent a moment. A long moment. "You can personally guarantee such a gift?" he asked, keeping his voice steady with much effort.

"Gift is a strong word, Jassad," Horthek answered. "You will be agents in the void. This is no free ride, but it will allow you to retain your memories. In the meantime, your establishment is a vital part of keeping things peaceful among the less peaceable in the Xeno section. Do you believe your son is trained sufficiently to manage it while you are away?"

"He is like his Father" Jassad said swelling with pride. "So while I can not guarantee he himself won't find trouble, he will certainly keep the bar running efficiently."

"That is good. It would be most unfortunate for everyone involved should The Liquid Cloud become unable to serve the community."

"Am I to understand you have some means of allowing me to communicate with you while I am outside of the cloud?"

"Filneas will fill you in on the logistic details," Horthik said.

A frown crept up on Jassad's face. "Pardon my ignorance Lord Commander, but who is Filneas?"

"Filneas is an alias of the Cardassian who brought you here," he explained. "Knowing him by that name will tell him you've chosen to accept the offer."

Jassad thought of his new 'friend'. "Of course" he responded.

"You should ask him about what it entails to be an agent of the Queendom in the void," Horthik advised. "It will get you home, but it may not be entirely to your liking."

"A prudent suggestion" Agreed Jassad. His mind had shifted entirely over the last few minutes, and scheme upon scheme was already being planned in his head. The Tervies had just provided a way out of this damned cloud, and he had no problem donning his spy façade, one last time, even it was for the Tervidians. He was nothing more than a mercenary, the goals behind the mission were unimportant, he simply was being hired to perform a job that needed doing, and his payment would be freedom. This journey deep into Laratha station had certainly been worth it.
"Also, I feel it is important to remind you that in this matter confidentiality is of the utmost importance."

Jassad put on an offended expression, "Lord Commander, even here in the cloud your agents must be aware of the Obsidian Order. Confidentiality is our specialty."

"Certainly. I do not select y agents lightly. One final bit before you depart my company," Horthik stepped closer to him, placing one arm on Jassad's shoulder and touching the other to his lips as though in thought. "Should it become necessary to perform a great sacrifice to defend the Queendom I will see to it personally that your son is well taken care of."

Jassad gave no hint of the revulsion he felt in his stomach. Sacrificing himself for the bastard Tervies? Like hell. He was a survivor, and there was always a way to survive. Yet he gave Horthik a curt nod, betraying none of his personal feelings. "I appreciate the gesture"

"Should you fail me in any way, do also remember that I am currently making sure that your son is being taken care of, a scenario which is readily subject to change. Do I make myself clear?"

Jassad's stomach burned with a sudden rush of anger. His son was being used as collateral to enforce his obedience. No objection would help his cause at this junction however, and again he wore a stoic facial expression betraying none of the internal turmoil he was feeling at that moment.

"I assure you, Lord Commander, I am good on my word."

"Excellent," Horthek smiled. "May the Queen's glory enlighten your path."

"May her glory never fade," Jassad replied.


Jassad
Cardassian
Laratha Station


Lord Commander Horthik
Tervidian, 14th Royal Legion
Laratha Station

***Mission 2, Day 4, 1400 hours***

The room was arrayed octagonally. At the "north" end there was a raised bar with three seats behind it. A portrait of the queen covered the north wall. The other walls were obsidian black and glinted light from the flowing crystal chandeliers and sconces that illuminated the room. The east and west walls each featured long tables with chairs behind them. The court staff occupied the west wall. In the center of the room was a small platform with a pedestal. There was an unadorned bench along the rear wall. Eight Tervidian guards in white armor with the shorter variety of assault rifles and clear-face helms stood in pairs at the doorways in each of the four diagonal walls. One male, the bailiff, stood at the edge of the dais in a robe adorned with blue crystals. He had a pistol on his belt but held in his hands a massive falchion that he leaned on slightly.

Six persons were marched into the chamber and directed to sit on the rear bench. A Grumatal, a Tervidian male with a scarred face but far less muscle mass than the grunts, a Tervidian female who maintained a high chin and regal bearing despite her incarceration, Drexel, Bradley, and a Tellarite.

“I don’t mean to sound repetitive, but it’s really dumb that we are here right now.” Bradley tried to keep his anger in check to keep himself from getting in more trouble than he is already in.

Arron kept is face neutral and unreadable as he took a seat on the bench. He hadnt slept much the night before, his mind had been fixated on this trial, as well as Thoris’s crytpic suggestion that a plan was afoot. He kept himself alert, waiting for a sign of what was to come.

"Order!" Called the bailiff. The eight guards tapped the butts if the rifles on the black floor three times, the beat resonating throughout the room. The northwest door opened. The justicar, a tall female of light blue complexion clad in the white vestments of her office and a crystal brooch on her shoulder bearing the Queen's sigil, entered gracefully. She carried a crystal scepter  with four flat faces each with Tervidian symbols representing in turn justice, honor, power, and duty. She stood at the center point of the bar. Behind her, in a shimmering blue crystal gown, came the viceroy, followed in turn by the third, a hooded humanoid figure.

Vestara kept her head down as she entered the room. She was hoping to keep her identity from her old shipmates for as long as possible. Not because she was afraid of their reaction, but because she was confused about the internal conflict this whole trial represented. Who was she to pass judgment on others? What were her qualifications? The power was certainly exciting, but what would she do with such responsibility? In truth she was not sure yet, and in some ways she was scared to find out.

The viceroy took her place at the east side of the dais bar and the third, Vestara, on the west. They sat in unison.

TWACK. The scepter struck the bar. "This session of the Tervidian court of justice is convened. I am Karana, Justicar of Laratha station. I am accompanied by the honorable Viceroy Midalva of her Luminescence's 14th royal legion, and our third, the honorable Vestara Mayne, recently joined to the Queendom.”

Vestara lowered her hood at that point, her identity now revealed, made her shrouded face pointless.

Arron stiffened at the sight of Vestara. He had not seen the woman since she and David had attacked him and Nala in his quarters. How would this be a fair trial with her influence in the verdict? He started to stand to object, but Bradley reached out and pulled him down. “No” he hissed to Drexel quietly.

Arron stewed and returned his attention to the speaker, though staring daggers of contempt at Vestara.

“May the enlightenment and wisdom of the Cloud's Creators and her Luminescence Queen Tervathaki the Mighty and Fair, prevail in these proceedings. All hail her Luminescence, may her glory never fade."

"May her glory never fade," echoed everyone in the room with the exception of the star fleet officers and the Tervidian female on the bench.

Vestara could feel the eyes of Bradley and Drexel on her. A part of her wanted to reach out to them, and let them know she could help them. Another part of her wanted to taunt them, and watch their eyes fill with fear at the power she now wielded. Instead she forced herself to look at the other, unfamiliar accused beings.  

The first few trials proceeded quickly. The Grumatal came first. He wore no armor, just a red jumper. His face and hands were furry, with an almost primate-like structure. The justicar read the charge of "assaulting his superior officer." The Grumatal plead "guilty with cause."

Bradley shook his head and smiled in frustration. “ Guilty with cause.” he whispered. “Who do these people think they are?”

Arron watched his friend out of the corner of his eye. He too seemed to be using the opportunity to learn everything he could about the procedure of the court system here.

A device raised up from the floor and holo images of the events taken from the memories of the invoked parties played out before the court. The Grumatal had indeed assaulted the officer, another of his own kind. The defendent then asked that other of his memories be played. A device allowing him to direct which memories were presented was fitted to his head. Memories of abuse by the officer, physical and otherwise, of his platoon and of an alien shopkeeper played for the court.

"This is your cause?" inquired the justicar.

"It is," the Grumatal replied.

"We will consult," the Justicar said, banging the scepter on the bar. She quietly address Midalva and Vestara. "I believe he has entered the correct plea."

"The crown supports the ruling of guilty with cause and recommends minimal but exemplary punitive action be taken," Midalva replied.

"Third, Lady Vestara?"

Vestara considered the evidence. As one who had assaulted her own commanding officer, she felt a hint of hypocrisy in her offering a verdict regarding a similar case. Though Drexel had never physically abused any of his crew. Far from it, he had always shown the utmost respect and concern for their wellbeing. She turned to her cohorts, “What does exemplary punitive action entail by your standards?” she asked quietly.

"Corporal punishment in the public view," the Justicar explained. "It is over quickly, but makes a clear statement to warn others. The public nature also sends a clear statement to the punished that their crimes are known and will always be known."

"In cases such as this it also allows some degree of pride in the punished," Midalva added. "He will carry the scars earned in defending another. It is a joint reminder that the laws of the queen are not to be ignored, and he will know that his sacrifice brought justice not only for himself but for those he sought to defend."

Vestara nodded, seeing the logic, but thought perhaps there was one additional avenue they could explore. “And what about his Commanding Officer? Should he too be brought to justice?

"He will," the Justicar assured her. "An apprehension squad will be dispatched shortly."

“Okay” Vestara said feeling like justice truly was being served in this case. “I am inclined to agree with you both on the appropriate response of the court.”

The Justicar banged the scepter again. "It is our ruling that the defendant is guilty with cause. By the authority granted by her Luminescence to the Divine Order of Justicars, you are sentenced to public flogging and one day in stocks with sustenance provided."

"Praises to the Queen, may her glory never fade," said the Grumatal.

"May her glory never fade," repeated the Justicar, followed by a bang of the scepter.

The Grumatal was escorted out the southeast door and the male Tervidian brought to the stand. "Horus son of Pinus of House Kirelock from Drexis III, you are charged with smuggling Yorrik to planets where it is prohibited by local ordinance. How do you plea?"

"Innocent. I am a simple merchant," the man replied. "I would never knowingly violate the laws of my Queen."

"Present the evidence," the Justicar ordered. Memories from the event were played as in the Grumatal's trial, but in this case there were some memories where the color scheme shifted in a pastel like way. At the request of the justicar a Tervidian in medical armor approached from the court staff bench. She accused Horis of prealtering memories and conducted a scan. Memories of others involved in the smuggling ring who had also been caught and tried on other stations.

"We will consult," declared the Justicar.

"He is guilty and insulted the intelligence and wisdom if her Luminescence," Midalva said calmly.

Vestara looked at the Tervidian and then back to the group around her. “He lied, he came into this court with every intention to deceive. I find such an act to be most deplorable, and now he has committed 3 crimes. I believe his punishment should be most severe, the honor of the court should never be in question, and allowing such an act to not be dealt with could only encourage additional attempts at deception.” She crossed her arms and looked at the Justicar.

"It is agreed," the Justicar nodded and struck the scepter down again. "Horus son of Pinus of House Kirelock from Drexis III, we declare you guilty. By the authority granted by her Luminescence to the Divine Order of Justicars, you are sentenced to five years impressment in the sixth legion."

"No!" Horus shrieked. He tried to rush the stand. There was a rush of air and a hiss as four of the eight guards lodged darts in the man and he fell hard on the ground. He was promptly dragged from the courtroom.

Vestara raised a single eyebrow as the event unfolded in front of her. Thoughts of her own escape attempt from Grumatal guards on the Yorktown flooded into her. She appreciated the speed and precision of the response, and nodded in approval as the Grumatals returned to formation.

Arron frowned inwardly. If that was any indication of how things could go during a minimal threat like the alien presented to the court, he sure hoped whatever Thoris had planned was much more thought out, and wouldn't result in the deaths of everyone on the Yorktown.

The third defendant, the female, seemed to draw obvious contempt from the rest if the court.

"Former Countess Devalin Martatha, you are charged with sedition, espionage, treason,  attempt to incite colonial rebellion against Queen, and failure to take advantage of the Queen's mercy once given. How do you plea?"

"I plead heroism," the woman replied coolly.

"That is not an acceptable plea," the justicar replied. "You may plead innocent, guilty, guilty with cause. Now I ask you, how do you plea?"

"I plead innocent, on the grounds that I do not recognize the authority of this court or the crown that sits behind it," the former countess declared.

"Devalin, You deny the crown." Midalva stated more than asked.

"I do," Devalin acknowledged.

"Are you the same Devalin who declared herself and her extensive private fleet for the Queen's dishonored cousin, the usurper?"

"I declared for the true queen."

"That rebellion failed, your fleet was either destroyed or abandoned your cause, and the usurper slain," Midalva said, condescension dribbling from her lips with every word. "The makers of the cloud did not support your false queen against Queen Tervathaki the mighty and fair. The queen showed you mercy once, and you have repaid her poorly."

"Have I? Please may we review the evidence?"

"Present the evidence," the justicar ordered. A single scene played, a memory of another fallen noble discussing very specific plans to attack a military distribution center.

"That is sufficient," Midalva interjected. "It is the position of the crown that the traitor be punished immediately."

"No!" the woman said, shedding her cold composure. "I request that the court review the full extent of the evidence before passing judgement."

The justicar was quiet for a moment. "Unless the third objects, the motion is denied."

Vestara cocked her head to one side, confused as to the denial of the request. “I happen to believe that if there is additional evidence to view, it would be irresponsible of the court to ignore it. We are in a closed environment here, surely there is no more appropriate setting to see the entirety of the woman’s argument.”

"Very well," the Justicar said. "We will review more evidence."

The subsequent two hours were spent playing memories of Devalin's treachery. There were conversations, deliveries of goods, and a rally speech she gave just prior to her arrest. A witness was called to explain the context of some of the coded conversations. Devalin attempted desperately to explain them away, but the stump speech was undeniable.

"Do we feel the evidence is satisfactory?" the Viceroy asked, her disdain for the accused clearly evident.

Vestara couldn’t help but feel this had been the most important trial of the day so far, and her unfamiliarity with Tervidian politics put her at a major disadvantage. Midalva’s response was very curious. She almost seemed afraid. “With respect, Justicar, I move for a peremptory challenge, Viceroy Midalva has an obvious bias towards the defendant, and I call for a neutral jury in a case as serious as this.” She said watching Midalva carefully.

Midalva raised a brow but looked at Vestara with a measurable degree of respect.

"A neutral jury is unlikely to be found," the Justicar said earnestly, looking at Devalin. "She was pardoned by the queen for her part in the uprising of the false queen, and this is known. The citizens of Laratha Station are keenly aware of her history. If Midalva is to recuse herself of involvement it will fall to you and I to make the judgement."

“Jurisprudence would call for a change of venue then, would it not?” Vestara said thoughtfully.

"It would if the evidence was in contest," the Justicar admitted. "But Devalin declared herself that she committed the acts of which she stands accused. She was under no duress. Her mind was entirely her own. While it is no crime to disagree with the queen, it is a crime to deliberately attempt to provoke insurrection."

Vestara considered the position she was in. She could not rid herself of the feeling that this was a pivotal moment, she stood on the precipice of a decision that could have a myriad of outcomes. She turned back towards the accused. “Devalin” Vestara called out to her. “You pleaded with the court to look upon the additional evidence, and we have done so. What did you hope to gain by such a request? What is it you need us to see that defends your actions?” Vestara was surprised by the confidence in her own voice. She was pleased with herself in how quickly she was fitting in to her role.

"I...I..." Devalin took a deep breath and stood erect. "I wished for the court to see that the cloud does not follow so willingly to the false queen Tervathaki! I wanted Midalva, her viceroy, to see that she was wrong to support Tervathaki before and to perhaps pick at her heartstrings and let her know that she is wrong now! I may die today, but I will die a martyr at the hands if the true traitors!"

"You served a traitor," Midalva said icily. "You serve a traitor's memory now, and will die a traitor."

Vestara held up a hand. “Devalin, you have not presented a case for why your claims are just, and yet you expect to die a martyr? Your life is on the line here, and you talk about false queens, and ill placed support. As an outsider I have been patient, hoping you could give me a reason to support your argument. Alas i feel you are filibustering your verdict. I invite you one last time to give merit to your defense."

Arron watched the trio huddled together “It seems Vestara is familiar with the court system” he muttered to Bradley.  

"Bajoran woman, do you revere your prophets?" Devalin asked.

“Of course” Vestara said studying the Tervidian woman.

"Many of us in the cloud worship the creators," Devalin said. Her voice was slow and heavy, as though part in annoyance and part in exhaustion. "There is a ritual associated with ascension to the throne. Tervathaki's mother Perenesci failed to participate in the ritual. She was a false queen, and Terathaki her eldest daughter inherited the same."

“How long has such a tradition been in place, and is the ritual of ascension to the throne tied to the ritual by law?” Vestara probed.

"The tradition has been in place for about 1600 years," the Jutiscar said. "And it is true that Perenesci did not fulfill it. The matriarch of the church that has traditionally administered the ritual refused to do so on Perenesci's behalf. Tervathaki had another religious order administer it on her behalf and was shown approved. In either case, while the ritual has been tradition it has never been formalized in statute."

"The creators need no statute!" Devalin shouted. "How dare you attempt to legislate their will!"

"If their will was angered so greatly then why did your first rebellion fail against the might of Queen Tervathaki?" Midalva asked with a smile. "Or do you mean to imply that Her Luminescense is greater in power than the creators?"

"HERESY!" Devalin was livid. She pointed at the viceroy and began shouting in an older tongue.

"It was your suggestion, Devalin," Midalva replied calmly. "Not mine. I merely asked what you meant by it."

Vestara shrugged, “Well if it has never been formalized, even if it breaks from tradition, it was not law...and as this is a [i]court of law[\i], ultimately the only possible verdict would be that you are guilty of treason” she said with a calculated look at Devalin.

Devalin scowled at her, a look of betrayal in her eyes. "May the creators spit upon your prophets."

The scepter struck the bar. "You are guilty. Bailiff, carry out the sentence for a proven and unpardoned traitor."

The bailiff pressed a button in the crystal studded hilt of the falchion and a block rise from the floor. Two of the guards, one from each door, moved forward and took an arm of the traitor. She began praying, her voice raising in pitch and meter as the guards forced her to her knees behind the block and lowered her head onto it. A fiber, much like the one used in Drexel's medical treatment, looped out of the block and secured the woman in place. The bailiff moved slowly to the block, raised the falchion, and let it fall in a smooth swift motion. There was a scream that cut off suddenly with a thudding sound that echoed off the chamber walls. The bailiff returned to his post and pressed another series of buttons on the hilt. The block lowered as several others raised, encapsulating the space occupied by the executed traitor. There was a quiet whirring sound and the floor returned to its previous position. The scent of burnt meat filled the air as the justicar drove down the scepter again.

"Bradley Milligan of USS Yorktown," the justicar called. "You may take the stand."

***Mission 2, Day 4, 1436 hours***


Bruht blinked. He shook his head, ran his fingers down his ridge, then counted back from five and blinked again. It was still there, the blinking light. He pressed a series if buttons I the helm console.

"Attention bridge of Yorktown," rang through the console. "We are broadcasting orders to you now."

Orders? That could mean leaving the station! That couldn't come soon enough. He hates holding still. Holding still was even worse than moving. You could think while moving but it was focused on your work; nothing too deep, nothing too...crazy. No. Not crazy! Councilor Roux told him not to call himself crazy. He had some chemical imbalances and an understandable level of anxiety given that they were so often hurling through the empty blackness of space with only the tin-can walls and energy shielding to keep the oxygen from being sucked from their lungs any second while they hurtled along faster than photons while an intense nuclear reaction bent time an space to the will of whomever was pushing the buttons on the console right on front of him so long as nothing in the process went wrong by even the slightest margin; perfectly understandable. Councilor Roux had even said so. COUNCILOR ROUX!!!!!! Why did she have to go and get herself kidnapped when he needed her! No. She couldn't have known. Nine of them could have known. How could they? Sumo had seemed so...right, and who could have predicted that the nebula would be filled with a Bolian hating empire of giant walking walls with machine guns? He could. He did. He'd had a dream about it three weeks earlier. There were a lot more giant apes in the dream and a massive tree that he couldn't climb but in retrospect that could have represented the Tervidians and their huge ships and gargantuan hulk of a space station which he couldn't even enter due to health concerns.

The Tervidians.

Orders.

The Tervidians had sent orders. Orders could mean movement which was preferable to being stationary. He need the file and read.

"Commander Thoris," Bruht said looking back at the captain's chair. It was still odd to see Thoris there, and Thoris looked surlier than ever while he waited for Khan Terroth to pick him up for Drexel's trial.

"Yes, Ensign," Thoris said dismissively.

"Sir," Bruht began. He had to collect himself.
Talking to the Andorian frightened him and always had. Those things on his head didn't help. Humanoids were not meant to be equipped with periscopes.

"Spit it out, Ensign," Thoris ordered. He liked the human phrase. It seemed so very appropriate for the Bolian ensign. His words always seemed to be launched from somewhere in the back if his throat when he spoke to him.

"The Tervidians have ordered all nonessential personnel to disembark the ship and board the station where they will be assigned quarters until the Yorktown returns from a special mission in service to the queen, sir," Bruht spouted out in a single rushed breath.

"Really," Thoris replied, his antennae aimed straight at Bruht. What more were these people really expecting of them? What was this "Special Mission" of theirs? This was too much. When Khan Terroth arrived he was going to give him a piece if his mind and hope he doesn't keep it. In the meantime what choice did he really have? He brought up a display and read the orders himself. "Put me through to all decks."

"Aye, sir," Bruht said, focusing on hitting the right buttons. He wished Councilor Roux was still aboard. He nodded to the Andorian when things were ready.

"This is Commandef Ch'tell, acting captain," Thoris said trying to sound commanding. "We have received instructions that all nonessential personnel are to disembark with their personal effects to the station. We are complying with this order at this time in hopes that showing good faith with her majesty and her servants of the 14th legion will lead to our peaceful release from the Queenspace. The orders will be available on the computer should you wish to review them.
Questions about your status as essential personnel are to be forwarded to second officer Zane Cross. That is all."

Bruht got up from the helm console and headed for the exit.

"Where are you going?" Thoris demanded icily.

"T-to pack, s-s-sir," Bruht replied.

"Sit back down in that chair!"

"Sir, the orders said that all nonessential personnel-"

"I believe you are a star fleet helm officer, are you not?"

"Y-yes sir," Bruht confirmed, reminding himself that Roux had specifically said Thoris was a man to respect, not fear.

"When last I checked it was still essential that a helm officer operate the helm," Thoris said, leaning back in the captain's chair. He could get used to the comfort of it at least. "Or has that also changed."

"Yes sir, no sir, yes....so I'm essential personnel?"

"It certainly seems that way."

Bruht smiled as he returned to his console. Essential personnel. He liked the sound of that. It filled him was an off and fleeting sensation of being valued. His smile faded as Khan Terroth entered the bridge.


Commander Thoris Ch'tell
Acting captain of USS Yorktown

Ensign Bruht
Helm Officer, USS Yorktown

Mission 2 Day 4: 1442 hours

"All nonessential personnel," Omar mused. Did that include him? He supposed it depended on how one defined essential. Was his part critical in ending the mutiny? Certainly. Was his part in the intelligence operations of the ship important? Of course it was! He wouldn't be doing it if it wasn't! But could the ship fly without him? He could pilot a shuttle, badly, but he was no helmsman. He could do basic wire and engine work, all officers had some training in it, but to call him skilled would be a joke. He was no medic, no scientist, no straight linguist, just the ship's decryptionist. Was that essential personnel? Doubtful. He would pack his bag and take his quarters on the station. He probably wouldn't stay long. It had taken him half the night but he had tracked down the Klingons he'd seen leaving Dylark's bar. A conversation, brawl, and more conversation with drinks had followed. They had called him a coward and a traitor for joining star fleet. He called them the same for retreating into the nebula during the dominion war. They had claimed they couldn't 't avoid it, outnumbered and outgunned they had thought to lose their enemies in the cloud. Instead their vessel was disabled, the dominion ships destroyed and set adrift as beacons like the Cardassian derelict, and they had served their indenture and were now free citizens of the Queendom. There was another round of calling each other cowards and fools and then the brawl broke out. Things were going fine until he hurled one of them into a table and spilled the enormous tankard belonging to an off duty Tervidian grunt. It wasn't long before all six of them were thrown into a storeroom with a table barricading the outside of the door and a perturbed and slightly inebriated Tervidian leaning against it singing deeply in his native dialect. Once they managed to turn on a light and look at each other he and the other Klingons looked at each other and burst out laughing. They began praising and jeering one another on their performance in this most recent battle. They told stories if their days before coming to the cloud, and had Imar recount the recent history of the empire and the other governments out "in the void." They found the discontent in the federation both amusing and perplexing. When he recounted the events of the mutiny he had their attention. Four out if six shared his opinion of Bajorans. One tried to say they weren't so bad, their resistance managed to make life hard on the Cardassians.

"They failed," Omar said, finding a bottle of some strong spirit that smelled faintly of meat and oak. He took a long swig. It was thick, with a taste similar to the smell and an afterburn that make him tingle all over. He loved it. "Besides, do you know why one needs a resistance?"

"Why?" replied the doubter.

"To resist those whom have already defeated you."

The other Klingons let had let out a roar of laughter. The door rattled as the Tervidian blocking them in yelled something unintelligible then continued singing. They laughed more quietly, and he regained them with the tale of how he, Omar Leezak, had broken the Bajoran led mutiny on board the Yorktown. They in turn told him of the glorious and honorable hunting expeditions into the heart of the nebula they had been on, chasing creatures large enough to swallow the Yorktown through the thickest parts of the cloud, ambushing apes twice the size of the Tervidians on the asteroids and moons of the...what did they call that place? They were leaving for there again the following evening.

"The cloud is so thick it's like water there," one of the others had said. "The beasts swim in it like an ocean."

"I doubt even the Tervidians know all that's in there," another had added. "But there are five legions around it, and one that goes inside. We work for them. Glory to the Royal 6th Legion and their martial contractors!"

They had invited him along. As nonessential personnel he saw no reason not to accept. He packed his things and headed for the airlock. He was going hunting.

Omar Leezak
Decryptionist, USS Yorktown

***Mission 2, Day 4 1436 hours***

"I demand to know the meaning of these orders!" Thoris shouted at Khan Terroth.

"I thought you had learned not to make demands, Captain Ch'tell," Khan Terroth replied calmly.

One, two, three, four, five. "Acting Captain," he seethed. "Commander Ch'tell until further notice. Now what is the meaning of these orders?"

"Their meaning seems clear." The Khan stood at parade rest. "The crew is to move to the station."

"I understood that part," Thoris said. Khan Terroth's games did not amuse him. Who did these people really think they were? They were hostage enough aboard the Yorktown with so many guns pointed at that but this? Maybe that was it! "I meant what do they want from us that requires most of our crew be taken as collateral?"

"Now you begin to understand," the Khan grinned. It was a disconcerting site. Thoris recognized it from their sparring match when he'd finally drawn blood. "Sadly, cannot be of much help to you in this matter. The first I had heard of these orders was over your com system on my way here."

"You're serious?" Could he be serious? The Khan seemed to know everything about them. Why not this?

"I am. Shall we retrieve Lady Nala now or did you have more questions that need immediate attention?"

"She is in her quarters," Thoris said, trying to keep his anger, frustration, and confusion in check. "Follow me "

*****

A knock of the door disturbed Nala from her thoughts of their plans gone wrong. She glanced up in time to see the Tervidian, Khan Terroth, entering. She looked to Thoris before giving Khan her full attention.

"My lady, the trials have begun."

"Begun?" That vexed her. She knew they had been waiting too long. They should have done something already, "You were supposed to escort us there early so that we could support Cap...Arron and Bradley."

"There are six trials set for today. Bradley Milligan is the fourth and Arron Drexel the fifth."

“The only trials I want to witness are those of our crew.” Nala stated, leveling a glare in his direction. She stood, preparing to follow. “Lead the way.” she said, motioning towards the door in front of her.

Khan Terroth gave a slight bow of the head and led them to the station. Nala scowled at the machine gun nest and guards at the airlock. There were more people than she had expected, evidently several were heeding the order to cross to the station. Their belongings were being scanned by the guards before they could cross. The Khan said a few words to the apparent ranking officer and they were waived through. She felt a mixture of emotions from thd crewmen as she passed them. There was fear, anger, resentment, but two in particular caught her attention. Excitement and curiosity. She focused on these and glanced at their origin. Omar and Gillead. She caught a snipit of their conversation in passing.

"I, for one, plan on taking up Dr. Couren's offer to join Xeno medical," the Trill was saying. "In multiple lifetimes I've never had an opportunity like this one to study so many unfamiliar lifeforms in a concentrated area. And you?"

"I am going to hunt the great beasts in the heart of the nebula," Omar replied. "It is an honorable profession, and promises glory and a great death."

"What more could a Klingon ask for?" Gillead replied.

What more? Nala thought. She wanted to shake them both but the Khan wasn't showing any sign of slowing down. You could ask to live! You could ask to be set free! You could fight for your crew like you did in the mutiny! Thoris and Bradley had stopped the assault on the bridge, but Omar had broken its back while Gillead had found and manufactured the antidote. Together they had retaken security and engineering. How could they qualify and nonessential?

They followed the Khan up through a series of stairwells, corridors, and elevators until they reached a hallway with several armed guards blocking doorways.

"I am Khan Terroth and these are my guests," the Tervidian said, handing over some kind of chit. A guard entered a security code and Khan Terroth led them into the booth. There was room to comfortably fit ten Tervidians in two rows of bench style seating. A long window to the court room occupied the opposite wall. They were to the "southwest" of the witness stand. Computer consol displays were accessible just beneath the window and along a counter between the two rows. There was a tap and two openable panels to the right with a Hardaerian servant in attendence. Khan Terroth ordered a beverage and took a seat on the rear bench. He gestured for Thoris and Nala to follow suit.

Nala sat just as Lieutenant Milligan was being brought forth. Her eyes flashed over everyone present before landing on one of the three presiding over the trials. What in the hell is she doing here?! Nala thought before turning to face Khan.

“Shouldn’t Lady Vestara be on trial as well?” Nala hissed, malice in her voice. “After all, she assaulted not only her Captain, but myself. Not to mention she MURDERED her own husband!!" Nala stated, her voice steadily rising. “How is this fair?! She tried to kill us! Why should she be allowed to decide who’s innocent and who’s guilty when she herself is guilty?!” At this point, Nala was standing almost face to face with the Tervidian, anger flashing in her eyes.

Thoris glanced at Nala and then the Khan. He was in the middle of taking his seat when Nala had spoken out angrily.

"It is my understanding that Vestara Mayne was under chemically induced mind control during the mutiny on board the Yorktown," Khan Territh replied. "As such, however debased her actions may have been, she was not in control of her faculties and therefore prosecuting her serves no purpose. The credit for the crimes that you would lay at her feet belongs to Sumo. As to why she was selected as the third for this trial I may only guess." And he had guesses. He was no politician himself, and the dance of courtiers and diplomats typically made him feel sick to his stomach, but he was a Khan in service to the queen, and as a skilled observer he knew the steps. Vestara was being groomed. He wasn't certain of how far Midalva would take her, but it was certainly something of note. He had seen the same orders from the monarch as Midalva. This entire trial was part of Midalva's interpretation of how to fulfill those orders.

“Your justice system is very flawed if this is the way you always conduct your trials."

"With all due respect, ma'am, you are not in possession of enough evidence to make an accurate assessment at this time," Khan Terroth said with a calm politeness. Though this is not the usual path for any of us.

Nala snorted and rolled her eyes. "So what exactly is the purpose of this? Holding people hostage and charging them for crimes that laws outside of this cloud do not recognize? What exactly do your people hope to accomplish by hiding in this cloud?”

"You ask many questions at one time, ma'am," Khan Terroth replied. "It is unfortunate that I am limited to answering only one at a time. I will begin with the most pressing. It is irrelevant to us whether our laws are recognized in the void. We are here, and you are here, and that is enough to make you subject to our laws."

“LIke we even knew that here existed.” she muttered under her breath.

"I will give you an example. I am a Khan, a special agent of the queen. In the cloud I am given certain powers and privileges in my service; among them is power over life and death, in the sense that I am permitted to eliminate those I perceive are threats to the Queendom. Were I to exercise that authority on one of your worlds would not your authorities object, despite my unfamiliarity with their customs and my failure to acknowledge their sovereignty over me?"

“There’s a difference between MURDER and a conspiracy that involved half of a crew. Murder is fundamentally frowned upon, except here apparently. And your insane laws about protecting females that has two of our highest ranking officials being subjected to this ridiculous and completely unfair trial.” At this, she turned away, no longer caring what this man had to say.

"Fair is a subjective concept," the Khan said, his attention directed more to the trial. "One that only matters when one is losing."

Thoris had almost intervened, but his thoughts were on more pressing matters. He had been nervously looking at the door and out into the courtroom, trying to find a familiar face, but he had not seen it yet. Where is that Klingon? And what were his plans anyway? Maybe it was something more subtle. Perhaps he was going to shatter the glass first? Drexel had to be able to see them for their plan to have any hope of success. That hope seemed to be diminishing with every passing moment.

****Mission Two Day 4 1700 hours****

"Bradley Milligan of the USS Yorktown," the Justicar said. "You stand accused of failure to defend females in regard to the mutiny on board your vessel within Queenspace. You are specifically implicated in the death of one Keren Dyleese. How do you plea?"

"Guilty with cause," Bradley said with the confidence of a soldier.

Arron nodded to himself, unsurprised by Bradley’s tactic. Given what they had witnessed throughout the trials today, Bradley made the smart play.

"It is better to spend my days recovering from a good flogging than spend them in some alien version of the French foreign legion," Bradley declared. He turned back to the panel. "Justicar, if the evidence is reviewed objectively, and I've been reviewing it all night, I believe you will see that I did my duty as my captain and uniform required. I followed orders. I gave the traitor Sumo every opportunity to abandon his mutinous cause. That may have been an error, but we believe in innocence until proven guilty. When he held his meeting he had cut off all possible monitors from my security noticing them. The memories you present about the monitors will show that cargo bay two and cargo bay one showed identical readings. Since we do not monitor crew positions without specific cause and we had no reason to believe half the crew would attack the other there I see nothing within star fleet operating procedures that I could have done to prevent it. Was I suspicious of Sumo? You're damn right I was! Given the choice I'd have arrested him until all this was straightened out. But those were not my orders. Captain Drexel had never failed me before; I don't really believe he failed me now."

"That will be seen in his trial, Mr. Milligan," the justicar said. "You are the subject here."

"So I am," Bradley continued. "In the matter if Keren Dyleese I accept responsibility for her death, but I declare by the honor of my mother and her mother before her that had I not done so the mutineers would have seized the bridge, and that little girl hiding in the Jeffrey's tubes you insisted on showing me half the night would have been dead instead of having nightmares for life."

"We will consider this. Present the evidence," the Justicar ordered. The holographic projection of the memories that had been playing in Bradley's head all evening began.

Vestara accepted Bradley’s defense with a nod. While she had a certain level of professional respect for the man, she always felt he was under Arron’s thumb a little too much. She looked at the Justicar and Midalva, “I find no fault in his argument, and seeing as his actions perhaps saved lives, even at the cost of one, I personally find no need to punish him further."

"Does the representative of the crown agree?" the Justicar inquired.

"The crown concedes that guilty with cause is an appropriate ruling with the belief that the fault lies with his commanding officer," Viceroy Midalva said after considering the matter for a moment.

Thwack! The scepter struck the bar and echoed in the chamber. "We find you guilty with cause. You will receive 30 lashes and one day in stocks with sustenance and then be returned to your vessel."

Vestara grimaced a little but considered this at least a partial victory. Bradley would be okay, if raw, at the end if it. That was better than ashes on the floor.

Bradley nodded, the soldier's look crossing his face. He regarded Vestara coolly, then stepped from the platform to join the waiting guards.

"Good luck, sir," he said with a nod to Drexel.

Drexel stared at Vestara, their eyes locked gazes, neither of them flinching from the other. “What is your game Vestara…” Arron said quietly to himself.

“Arron Drexel of the USS Yorktown, approach the stand.”


**********

This has been a joint post by


Arron Drexel
Vestara Mayne
The Justicar
Viceroy Midalva

Mission 2 Day



Arron rose from his bench. He had been nervously awaiting a sign that whatever plan Thoris had alluded to the night before was being implemented. He had half expected something to happen during Bradley’s trial. Surely now that he was approaching the bench, the time was right to act.

As he walked forward he had continued to lock eyes with Vestara. He still could not wrap his head around the fact that she was partially responsible for his fate in this court, after she had been involved in the coup on his ship. And Arron still had doubts as to how much of her involvement could be explained away by Sumo’s manipulation drug he had exposed much of his crew to.

Thoris’ antennae were nervously twitching from the observation room. His eyes were constantly reverting to the door, hoping that a murderous Klingon wouldn’t walk on in. He couldn’t detect any reaction from Nala, but he was sure that she knew how he was feeling. Having the Khan there hovering over them wasn’t helping his mood either.

Nala's heart sped up as she watched Arron walk forward. She knew whatever plan she and Thoris had made with Jassad probably wasn't going to happen. That, coupled with the nervousness she was feeling from Thoris, Nala was on edge. She could only sit by and watch as Arron was tried for crimes that were well beyond his control. Her eyes darted to the Justicar as she heard Arron's name being spoken.

"Arron Drexel," the Justiar began, "you stand accused of failure to defend the female members of your crew. This is considered a grievous offense in the Queenspace and signifies a failure in leadership, a failure in character, and a failure in the duty that belongs to all males. Much evidence has already been presented in the trial of your subordinate, who plead and was found guilty with cause. How do you plea?"

“My plea is irrelevant!” Drexel said standing his ground. “I do not recognize the authority of this court, as it pertains to the actions of a Starfleet Captain commanding a Starfleet vessel.” He noticed a glimmer in Vestara’s new eyes. What did it mean? He refocused his thoughts and continued, “I present no evidence to this court, because I do not offer a defense for my actions. I know I let my crew down. I know I let personal relationships cloud my judgement, and nothing I say or do will ever change the fact that people died under my command.”

"If you acknowledge your guilt why do you not enter a guilty plea?" inquired the Justicar.

“Because I do not answer to you!” Drexel said anger creeping into his voice. “I have to answer to the men and women who served under me and put their trust in me. I have to answer to the uniform I have worn for 20 years. I have to answer to the laws that govern MY society. I have sworn no allegiance to your queen, your laws, or your customs.”

"A uniform doesn't ask questions or take answers, but is merely a vestment, one which did not seem to matter to you when an attractive female had the potential to remove it," the Viceroy said in a smooth even tone. "Answering to your underlings is a noble sentiment, but the justice system in any society exists precisely to protect one from the justice of the masses. Your allegiance isn't necessary to be subject to our laws while in our territory. I fail to see why you continue to stand on such soft ground again and again rather than accepting that you are in our hands and in our hands you will remain if you continue to be so obtusely uncooperative."

Arron could not hide his irritation. “I recognize where I am, and I recognize my failings. But nothing you can say or do will change the fact tha-” Arron was quickly cut off by Vestara.

"Shut your mouth for a moment, Arron," Vestara interjected with a commanding tone Arron had never heard her use aboard the Yorktown.

Arron was taken aback by the comment, but made no move to respond.

"Honorable justicar, Viceroy Midalva," Vestara began after giving Arron an icy stare. Don't screw this up Arron, she thought. "Arron Drexel pleads guilty with cause. He has not been raised within the enlightened society of the Queenspace and is speaking out of the conditioning of a career Starfleet officer rather than as a free and intelligent mind. If you search the evidence, not during the mutiny but of his upbringing, you will find that his actions, while deplorable, are merely the predictable byproduct of his training, formal and informal."

"The plea is thusly entered on the accused's behalf," the Justicar said with a strike if the scepter. Midalva was giving Vestara a look of combined amusement and admiration. Vestara assumed she was impressed at her audacity as the newest member of the court. She only hoped it was audacious enough.

"We have reviewed much of the evidence in the case of Bradley Milligan," the Justicar continued. "We shall take that evidence Into account, particularly as this court found Milligan to be guilty with cause, that cause primarily pertaining to following the orders of Aaron Drexel, who now stands accused. Display the additional evidence."

'Threw one into the fire while saving the other,' Vestara thought. She hadn't been fond of the captain. All the drama over the election had found them in opposite sides and she was a passionate believer; in the prophets, in Bajor, in Daala. Did she still believe in Daala? Sumo believed in Daala; believed in him so fervently that he'd tried to take over the ship and now held Roux and Tahiri hostage, either forcibly or by the same control agents that had taken her hostage, taken her will, taken her husband. If this was the handiwork of Daala's firm believers could she believe in him anymore? No.

She bit her lip as she watched the scene of Sumo taking her will, nearly drawing blood as Drexel gave orders to keep tabs on the traitor while he went for a romantic dinner with Nala. She felt sick to her stomach as the battle between herself and the others ensued, culminating in the loss of her eyes. She swallowed hard, trying to keep the vomit down as she realized that that was the moment she had last seen David alive. She didn't watch the rest. She couldn't. It was too hard. Sumo's drugs may have taken her will, but the anger was all her own, and Drexel was the most deserving target after herself and sumo. She couldn't let that show now though. He was an oath-bound Starfleet officer and so was she. If he was going to be too much of a pigheaded ass to defend himself that left only her, and she was in a position to do just that.

Arron kept his eyes closed, not able to face the images that had plagued his mind for the last week one more time. The court room felt as if it was spinning around him. For a moment, he thought he was going to pass out. He forced himself to inhale and exhale slowly, and was relieved to hear that the presentation of the evidence was ending.

From the observation room, Thoris fidgeted in his chair. When the reports came in about Vestara’s condition while she was in the brig, the thought had passed about letting her go. He passively decided to keep her in a couple more days, but the Tervies got to her first. He didn’t care to act against that, but a certain distrust still lingered for Vestara in his mind. If only for a minute, these scenes had distracted him from his earlier worries.

Nala watched as the evidence against Arron was presented. How these people could blame him for everything that happened was beyond her. She felt her stomach churn as the various scenes replayed in front of them. She watched as she threw the bottle at David, watched as Vestara writhed on the floor in pain. She looked away, not wanting to relive this, only wanting to be far away from this cloud, with Arron and the rest of the Yorktown crew. She looked at Arron, watching the emotions play out in his eyes.

"Lady Vestara," the Justicar said when the presentation of evidence was complete, "as it will take a laborious amount of time and effort to sift through the data to support your argument on behalf of the accused, and the accused is hostile and uncooperative, we ask that you explain your position."

"Alright," Vestara said, willing her queasiness down. It felt like she might explode at any time. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be pregnant. She swallowed hard and stood, moving carefully down from the stand to a position between Drexel and the remaining panel members. "Honorable Justicar and Viceroy, the United Federation of Planets is a conglomerate of many worlds and many races throughout the Alpha Quadrant. They are a generally altruistic collective with a great desire for learning and sharing of culture. Earth, Arron Drexel's home world, has served as the capital of this conglomerate for several hundred years. The population there lives under a unified government and, combined with a variety of other races, have developed into a generally peaceful society."

"They do not seem so peaceful to our observations," Midalva stated.

"They wouldn't," Vestara conceded. "Not out here anyway. Star Fleet is the military wing of the Federation. They are mostly explorers, scientists, diplomats. Experience with other societies have show the need for defensive capability. Our recent experiences with the dominion war have made that abundantly clear."

"We are familiar with the dominion war," the Justicar said.

"Are you? Good. That will speed things up," Vestara took a deep breath. "The Federatuon has enjoyed virtually unlimited resources. Work has been a choice, rather than a necessity. Those who have chosen to work in Star Fleet have typically done so out of passion and duty. They are there to be a cohesive team, work with others for the greater good. The wars of recent decades have drawn many of them closer, star fleet that is."

"This is common among soldiers," Midalva commented. "Sharing the near touch of death forges an unparalleled bond."

"So it does," Vestara agreed. "So it is with star fleet itself, especially among those from Earth. The other impact of the war was the significant drain of resources. The Federation was drained in a way that no other conflict has ever drained us. Suddenly the resources weren't so unlimited. People who weren't used to working so hard o provide for themselves now had to. Contentions began forming in the civilian populations. Star fleet was mostly insulated from this as without a front line defense there wouldn't even be a need for resources, but this planted the seeds of discontent." She swallowed again, struggling with what she knew she had to say and not wanting to say it. "That discontent bled into the crew of the Yorktown. Sumo was an agent of it, of forces driven by it on my home world of Bajor where we are no strangers to want and loss. Sumo had served with former Captain Drexel, who still believed in the unity of a Star Fleet crew. You see, that altruistic unity that has made Star Fleet excellent at dealing with outside threats has also left them completely unprepared to deal with internal dissention of a violent nature. Drexel believed, as you saw, that Sumo was sending messages and possibly planning to be a saboteur. He also believed in a core Earth tenant of innocent until proven guilty. Because of these beliefs he did not detain Sumo earlier. Because of these beliefs he couldn't even entertain the concept that Sumo could be capable of the level of betrayal he exhibited. And because of these beliefs he certainly never fathomed that about half his crew would take up arms to seize control of the ship. It was for him, to say the least, unthinkable."

"And this line of thinking is common among your fellows?" Midalva asked, leaning forward on the bar.

"It is," Vestara confirmed.

"No wonder your people are shooting each other out of the sky," the justicar said, briefly breaking her otherwise stoic composure."

"I know nothing about that," Vestara said, blinking. Outside the cloud was a wholly different issue that they would address when they got there. If we get there. "What I do know is that this is the cause for which Arron Drexel did not stop the mutiny. He may have been fraternizing with a subordinate at the time, but Captain is a lonely position and Nala seems to have been more than happy to fill the loneliness. It was his off time, it was his to deal with as he pleased."

"This is your argument and your cause?" The Justicar said.

"It is," Vestara nodded.

"Arron Drexel, do you have anything to say for yourself?" the Justicar gestured for Vestara to step aside.

His eyes darted from Vestara to the Justicar. Oddly enough the emotion he felt was an unexpected surge of gratitude towards Vestara. He composed himself and took a step forward. “The Yorktown has been my home for about twenty years now.” Arron began. “I was first assigned there out of the academy when it was a new ship. I worked hard to establish myself on the vessel and mold a successful career for myself. I developed many relationships over the years on that ship, mostly as a peer and friend. It wasn't until about 4 years ago that I took up the mantle of Captain” Arron said recalling the memories that seemed like yesterday. “This ship has been my home and family for so long, and my familiarity with much of the crew reflected that. These recent events have caused me to look hard at where I failed them…” His voice trembled slightly showing the first hint of unease. “I understand now that a Captain can not afford the luxuries of friends and popularity at the expense of doing one's duty. I don't think I ever stopped being their friend, meaning I never really started being their captain…” Tears formed in his eyes as he thought of all the people he cared for, people that he had failed; Camille, David, and Keren being the first that had come to mind. “When I resigned as Captain...I did so thinking my recent relationship with Nala had been the cause of my failure to prevent the division on my ship.” Arron nodded towards Vestara, “however as I listened to my former Operations officer offer her explanation, I have realized that I was not performing my duties adequately for years. The Yorktown deserves a Captain who can draw the line between fraternizing, and professionalism. A captain with no emotional ties to the ship, or its crew…” 
'By the prophets,' Vestara thought, 'he's spouting Vulcan philosophy.'

Thoris grinned slightly. It seemed humans always had a bipolar response to everything. Arron finally got it into his head that leadership meant distancing yourself from those that follow but only to the extreme. Thoris recalled his days with the Andorian Imperial Guard, how they put vacuous chasms between relationships, but still the Andorian heart thrived, if only from a distance. Perhaps, Arron would need a few more years to learn that as well. A thought of the Klingon returned to mind, and his eyes jumped back at the door.

Khan Terroth watched the proceedings intently. Midalva had chosen to play this game with Vestara as a major piece, but he suspected she'd underestimated just what power she was unleashing. She was doing well. He noticed Thoris' preoccupation with the door. Did he wish to escape and try to save his captain? Certainly not. The bruises from their sparring match still showed on his face. Something else then? But what?

Nala could only stare at Vestara in disbelief. She had tried to kill Arron, yet here she was, defending his actions. She didn't know what Vestara was playing at, but if it helped Arron, she didn't care. And to hear that Arron no longer held their relationship accountable for his actions, or lack thereof, was a great relief.

"Emotion for subordinates in and of itself is no crime," the justicar said. "It is only when these emotions produced dereliction of duty that evil is done by them."

"You act as though emotion itself is the issue," Midalva added. "Let me assure you that such is not the case. Feelings are like a wild, what is your earth pack animal called?"

"Horse, honorable viceroy," Vestara said. David was half human and often said that he'd get her to ride one. She'd always said he was the only ride she needed. Prophets damn you Sumo, how many things have you taken from me?

"Horse, thank you," Midalva continued. "Your emotions are a wild horse to be bridled, focused, used to empower rather than detract. Loyalty can be bridled to accomplish great tasks. Honor and shame, though opposites, each offer reins for action. Tell me, Arron Drexel, which guides you now?"

Arron blinked thoughtfully. “A week ago I would have told you honor” Arron admitted. “But at present, all I can feel is shame. It’s almost as if I have forgotten how to be a Captain” Arron said solemnly, the admission tearing at his heart.

"We will confer," the Justicar said. She indicated that Vestara remain apart from the verdict for her participation in Drexel's defense. Both Tervidian women seemed deep in thought for a moment before speaking with hushed voices. The air itself seemed to grow heavy in anticipation of the verdict.

¡THWACK! The scepter struck the bar.

"We declare you guilty with cause," the justicar pronounced. "Due to the severity of your crimes, the cultural influences which led you to them, and the shame you now bear we have concluded that your sentence is seven years impressment followed by seven instead of five years indenture. This will give you the opportunity to learn your place and duty in the galaxy and earn the self respect that a military man should bear."

“7 years…” Arron muttered, feeling as if he legs were going to collapse beneath him.


JP by

The Awesome
Aaron Drexel
Nala
Thoris Ch'Tell