Chapter 5
by Travis Anderson

The twelve men and women that stood before Macen were tired, haggard, and bruised. Dirt clung to their black and grey uniforms. The dirt had mixed with their sweat to form muddy smears across their faces. Anger and loathing radiated from their eyes and faces.

"Do you think you're good enough?" Macen yelled as he paced back and forth across the line they stood in. "Do you really think you'll survive any kind of combat?" He stopped in the centre of the formation and yelled at them. "Who are you?"

"Marines!" they yelled back in unison.

"What is your mission?"

"To win!"

"How?"

"By any means necessary!" they yelled back with a vengeance.

"Very well," he replied with approval. "Dismissed."

The twelve beleaguered Security officers filtered out of Holodeck One and headed straight for the mess. Macen remained behind, surveying the recreated training complex portrayed within the holographic environment. He'd watched old Marine training records to prepare for his role and program this simulation.

"You're enjoying wearing that uniform, aren't you?" he heard behind him.

Macen turned to find Lisea coming out from the control bunker. From the bunker, a person could monitor the entire "Centre", recording and scoring the performance of every "recruit".

He broke into an embarrassed grin. "Yeah, I guess I am."

The Marines held a mystique on Starfleet that persisted to this day. They had been a rugged and formidable force. Designed to land on any planet and form a beachhead until the Fleet could mobilise enough personnel to garrison it. They had been among the vanguard forces defending the newborn Federation's frontier. It was an ideal recruiting ploy for Section 31. It would be especially effective now that the war had concluded.

"It shows," she replied mirthlessly.

Danan still did not approve of Macen's plan to train twelve Security officers as Marines. Those trainees would then accompany Macen and Danan aboard Commander P'Ris' Warbird and transported to Gulag. Upon arriving, they would pose as a relief unit. Under that guise, they would sabotage the defence grid, allowing the Warbird and the incoming Odyssey to transport troops down to the surface and take the camp.

"Are you saying you're not?" Macen asked sardonically.

Danan's mouth tightened around then corners, then she sighed. "No, I'm not. I had hoped that with the Dominion gone and the Cardassians allied with the Federation, we'd have a chance to rebuild the colonies."

A cloud crossed Macen's face.

"What?" Danan asked.

"The colonies," he said quietly. "The Dominion razed the DMZ. There were no survivors."

Her face lost all colour, even her spots. "When?"

"The first year of the war," Macen said despondently. "That's why they had to remove the Maquis."

"By the Pool," Danan exclaimed in a stunned whisper.

"It's time to find our own way," Macen said grimly. "For ourselves, and the remaining Maquis."

A small spark shone in her eyes. "You have a plan?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "I have an idea. I don't know if it qualifies as a plan."

"It's probably more than the rest of us have," she said with a thin smile.

"I hope not."

T'Kir sat at her Ops console staring out into space. She hummed a tune and bobbed her head side to side. D'art glared at her from her console alongside her. She strummed her fingers across her panels before turning to T'Kir.

"Stop it!" she demanded angrily.

"Stop what?" T'Kir protested with as much innocence as she could muster.

"All your.... your...everything you're doing," D'art replied in frustration.

"Such as?" T'Kir asked in a melodic tone reminiscent of the tune she had been humming.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about," D'art snarled in a whisper.

"I really have no idea," T'Kir informed her with over-acted confusion. She batted her eyes and placed her hand across her chest. "Why don't you enlighten me?" She unzipped the collar of her departmental tunic. "You could explain it over dinner."

D'art's face went red. "You presumptuous slut!" she hissed. "You think I'd take a piece of work like you to bed? You need your head examined!"

"So they tell me." T'Kir laughed, then wagged a finger at D'art. "But I know you. I know why you're here. Better behave."

D'art became so infuriated that she couldn't speak. She sat poised to lunge at T'Kir. T'Kir sat like a cat taunting its prey. She gave D'art a laconic smile.

Macen, Danan, and Derrico entered the bridge at that moment. "What's going on here?" Macen asked sternly.

"Nothing, Captain," T'Kir assured him, still projecting innocence.

"Why don't I believe you?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"Because she's a liar," D'art snapped.

"Ensign D'art!" Danan's voice shot across the bridge like a projectile. "You will refrain from insulting members of this crew. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," D'art replied crisply, her face splotchy from her embarrassed flush.

"Good," Macen said condescendingly. "I would hate to have to schedule you for separate watches just because you can't behave without adult supervision."

D'art and T'Kir returned to their duties with one last loathing glare exchanged.

Energy bursts cut through black clad figures. Searing yellow streaks cut through armour as though it weren't there. Explosions and screams reverberated from every direction.

Derrico led the three other officers of his squad into a bunker. They stormed in. Derrico fired a burst through the chest of the first opposing sentry. She fell without a sound. Another rose from their post behind a gunnery console. Another one of Derrico's squad, Jansen, released a volley of fire into his chest. He slumped over his board.

Another officer, Hubert, rushed towards another gunnery tech. "Put your hands in the air!" he shouted, thrusting his rifle toward her. She complied. Hubert maintained a watchful eye on her as Jansen and the fourth officer, Radischev, passed behind him.

Another tech leapt to his feet and fired at Radischev. Radischev collapsed as yellow energy pulses lanced into him. Jansen pivoted. She fired two squarely aimed bursts into the tech's head.

Hubert's prisoner snapped her forward. She had a palm sized weapon that discharged a green pulse into Hubert. He hit the ground without a sound. Jansen was hit as she tried to turn. Derrico fired three shots into the tech. She fell.

"Computer, end program." Macen's voice cut through the air with a grim finality. The bunker evaporated leaving Derrico's squad lying on the cubical surface of the Holodeck.

Derrico turned and faced Macen. Behind the Captain stood Lisea and P'Ris. Macen awaited Derrico's report with his hands clasped behind his back.

"I'm waiting, Lieutenant," Macen reminded Derrico.

"Sir," Derrico said, drawing himself up. "Squad two has failed."

"Why is that?" Macen asked cooly.

"We were ambushed by the enemy, sir."

"Don't you mean you were ambushed by a prisoner?" Macen asked acidly.

"Yessir," Derrico answered shamefaced.

"On your feet," Macen barked at the others.

They doggedly rose to their feet. The neural discharges they'd been hit with still affecting their nervous systems. They'd feel the pain throughout the remainder of the day. As uncomfortable as it was, it was less painful than even a mild phaser burst.

Macen approached Hubert, hovering centimetre's from the Security man's face. "Why didn't you shoot the gunnery tech?"

"It was unnecessary," Hubert replied evenly.

"Unnecessary?" Macen asked scornfully, "She killed you. After that, she killed Jansen. Do you still think her death was unnecessary?"

"Yes, sir. I do." Hubert's answer was less confident than his first reply.

"Why, exactly, do you think that?" Macen asked.

"She offered surrender," Hubert protested, "I couldn't shoot a prisoner."

"Why didn't you shoot her when you first saw her?" Macen asked.

"Sir?" Hubert croaked.

Macen stepped back and surveyed the entire squad. His eyes were cold and disapproving. Muscles in his cheek and jaw flexed.

"The enemy you will face will respond exactly as depicted here," Macen informed them menacingly. "They will grant no quarter. They will not offer surrender. They will not yield...ever!" His eyes narrowed. "How do you respond to an enemy like that?"

No one spoke. Finally, Jansen stepped forward. "We respond by killing them before they kill us."

Macen nodded. "At least one of you gets it." He waved them away. "Dismissed."

The dejected and battered squad trooped out. Macen turned towards Danan and P'Ris. Lisea's face was rigid, revealing nothing. P'Ris' smile was one of devious amusement.

"I am certainly glad you are a singularity within the Starfleet officers' corps," P'Ris commented dryly. "I do not think the rest of the Alpha Quadrant would withstand an entire force of like-minded individuals such as yourself."

"Who knows?" Macen said wearily.

"The universe can barely handle one of him," Danan said dryly. "Don't compound matters by multiplying him."

Tarrik stepped into Macen's Ready Room. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"

Macen suppressed a grin. Even speaking, Tarrik's porcine hereditary revealed itself. Tarrik had an excellent grasp of Basic. He also had a guttural pronunciation to go along with it.

Macen stood. "Come here, Chief." He took a case out from behind his desk as Tarrik approached. He pressed his thumbs against the locking mechanism's scanners. Recognising his DNA pattern, the case unlatched itself. The opening lid revealed a rifle and pistol. "I want you to replicate twelve of each of these," Macen informed Tarrik.

The Tellarite ran a tricorder down the length of the rifle. "This is pretty impressive." The engineer's appreciation of the design echoed in his voice. "It has design characteristics similar to both a pulse rifle and a compressed phaser rifle, but with a much larger energy capacity and a smaller casing."

"Can the system handle it?" Macen asked. "Can they be replicated?"

"Easily," Tarrik assured him. "It's a wonder Starfleet didn't start making these ages ago."

"They did. They just didn't distribute them widely," Macen informed him. "And I'd like to keep it that way."

Tarrik looked uncomfortable. "Erasing the replicator logs is easy. I'm uncomfortable with not saving data on this power source. It's a superior design compared to anything we've got now."

"I'm aware of that, Chief," Macen replied gravely. "I'm also aware of the simple fact that these were designed for use by Starfleet commandos, not the fleet at large."

Tarrik nodded. "All right. I'll erase all the data."

"Thank you, Chief," Macen told him in earnest gratitude.

"My people suffered greatly when the Andorians first learned of other cultures and other technologies," Tarrik told him. "The Federation went a long way towards curbing the mutual animosity between our peoples. Now that the Dominion War is over, it seems that continuing that work is unimportant next to securing old borders and recruiting new allies."

Macen nodded sadly. "So you see the dangers, too."

Tarrik's voice was forlorn as he answered. "Yes, sir. I do indeed."

"Then let's do something about it," Macen said in grim anger.

"Yes, sir!" Tarrik replied in kind.

"I don't see why you want to do this," Kort grumbled.

"Trust me," Derrico assured him. "It'll be fun."

"But why?" the burly Klingon grumbled.

"My team is boarding the Rihansu Warbird tomorrow," Derrico explained, exasperated. "We've been drilling constantly for four days. It's time to relax."

"But you call this relaxation?" Kort moaned.

"They're not ready," Macen groused, leaning back in his chair.

"They're as ready as they're going to get in the time frame you established," Lisea replied, lying on the couch.

Her eyes drifted across the Ready Room. She despised the barrenness found here. She stifled her displeasure with a sigh. Brin hadn't had time to personalise anything yet. She knew that as soon as they returned to Spacedock he was going to request several overhauls. She supposed one advantage to an experimental ship is that you got to modify it as you saw fit.

She sat up. "We need to get out of here."

"We need to run another drill," Macen replied sourly. He moved from behind the desk and began to pace across the room. "Another few simulations, and they may get their reflexes honed a little more."

She followed him with her eyes. Her eyebrows were raised with indulgent patience. "Or, we may just push them into exhaustion and they blow the mission from not being able to even walk."

Macen turned to glower at her. Finally, he broke into a contrite grin. "I have been pushing them hard, haven't I?"

"Harder than anything they experienced in the Academy," Danan replied. "Maybe even in the war."

"I wouldn't go that far," Macen protested.

Danan laughed. "Neither would I, but it was an easy shot."

"Thanks," he replied morosely. "So what's your suggestion?"

Her bright smile lit up her face. "Derrico and the team are throwing a party in Holodeck two. We could go to that."

"I'm sure the last person they want to see is me," Brin said hesitantly.

"Nonsense," Lisea replied, dismissing the notion. "Our attendance would be a great morale booster."

Macen still thought the idea a dubious one, but agreed.

"What is this...place?" Kort asked irritably.

Derrico motioned towards the long counter stretching before them. It had several stools set up on one side of the counter, occupied by customers. On the other side of the counter were clerks dressed in white smocks and paper hats serving them. At the far corner was an area with loud music and people dancing.

"It's a malt shop," Derrico answered gleefully. "It was a place in mid-twentieth century Earth to go eat, drink, and socialise."

"Eating is good," Kort commented. "As is drinking. What do they serve?"

"Mostly sodas and milk shakes," Derrico answered, then slyly added, "But the root beer at this place is to die for."

"I could use an ale right now," Kort muttered and approached the counter.

Derrico shook his head sympathetically, wondering what the Klingon would think of root beer. It had been hard enough to get him into biker's leathers much less participate. The team had invited most of the ship's crew and the curious were dropping in and out. His people were really getting into the swing of things. On the dance floor, Hannah Jansen was dancing Leroy Adams' legs off. He almost pitied the engineer.

The door to the holodeck opened and two more participants entered. Derrico's heart almost stopped when he recognised the Captain and the XO. Commander Danan had promised she'd get Macen to attend, but Derrico hadn't believed her. He was out several favour points with other crewmen, but it was worth it to have the Captain present.

Derrico made his way through the milling crowd. Their uniforms easily distinguished the casual visitors. The true participants wore period piece clothing. To Derrico's even greater amazement, both officers wore the appropriate apparel.

"Sirs," he stammered, "I can't believe you're here."

Macen looked at him suspiciously. "Does this mean we're not invited?"

"No, sir!" Derrico nearly shouted. "Commander Danan said she'd get you here, but I never believed it."

Brin gave Lisea an accusing stare as she turned away, trying to project innocence.

"Seeing as how I'm here, I'd say the Commander's plan worked."

"Yessir," Derrico agreed enthusiastically, then turned to Danan. "Thank you, sir!"

A sudden shout of displeasure broke through every conversation. Kort stood sputtering at a hapless clerk while another patron tried to dry Kort's spewed drink off. The lady's companion was rising and coming towards Kort.

"You call this swill beer?" he bellowed at the terrified clerk. A finger tapped at his shoulder and Kort whirled around to find another biker his size staring menacingly into his eyes.

"You just spit all over my girlfriend," the biker informed him.

"I apologise," Kort said and started to turn towards the clerk. He found his arm held by the biker.

"That ain't good enough," the biker declared hotly. "You say 'sorry' to me an' ignore her? Where'd you learn manners, boy?"

"On Qo'noS," the Klingon snarled.

"I don't know where that is," the biker snarled back, "but I hope they taught you how to fight."

The holographic biker never landed the punch. Kort's palm smashed into his nose. The biker flew into a table. The patrons merely pushed his unconscious body to the floor and resumed their conversation.

Kort turned to the "assaulted" lady. "I apologise for my earlier actions."

She smiled at him. "You took out Bobby Joe. Nobody's done that before."

"It was a simple matter." Kort assured her. "He had no skills whatsoever."

Her expression turned very inviting. "You want to go somewhere private?"

Kort was surprised at first, then smiled heartily at her. "Certainly!" Kort and the woman left to cheers bellowed by the Security team.

"I programmed that sequence entirely for Kort's benefit," Derrico explained proudly.

"I...see." Macen replied diplomatically. "Are there any more...surprises?"

"Join the party and find out," Derrico beamed.

Derrico urged Macen and Danan forward. They proceeded to the dance floor and soon fell into conversations with various crewmen. There were no more boisterous "surprises", just music and games. It was several hours before the program was finally deactivated. When it was, the participants went to their quarters exhausted but much more relaxed.

"Stand-by for transport," Petty Officer Rool informed his Rihansu counterpart.

The Bolian was the Chief Transporter Tech. The beam overs would occur in two stages. Macen and Danan would transport first. After their materialisation, Derrico and the other eleven members of the insertion team would beam over simultaneously from Transporter Rooms One and Two. Macen was giving last minute instructions to Kort and T'Kir.

"T'Kir, you'll be in command while we're away. You have all the details of the plan."

T'Kir waved the padd containing the instructions, verifying that she had it.

"Kort will be..."

"My overseer," she quipped, rolling her eyes.

Macen gave her a reproving look. "You've done a lot to earn my trust. That's why I'm leaving you in command." His voice became stern. "You've also done a lot to make me doubt you. Kort will be your advisor. Listen to him."

"He's also here to take over if I screw up," she said petulantly.

"He can do the same to me," Macen reminded her. "Deal with it."

She gave him a smirk and shrugged.

"I will do all I can to assist her," Kort assured him.

"Brin, we need to get going," Lisea called from the transporter pad.

"Good luck," Macen told them.

"May your foes feel your wrath," Kort intoned sombrely.

T'Kir kissed him on the cheek. "Don't get dead." she whispered in his ear.

Macen flushed as he took her by the shoulders. "Don't ever do that again," he warned her. He turned and stepped onto the transporter pad.

Danan's eyes flashed phaser fire at T'Kir. T'Kir held up her hands in mock surrender. She grinned triumphantly as the two El-Aurians disappeared in a shimmering fire.

"You enjoyed that," Danan accused as she and Macen re-materialised.

"I did not!" Brin protested. "It surprised me as much as it did you."

"We're not talking surprise," Lisea growled. "We're talking enjoyment."

Macen sighed. "I had no idea she was going to do it. I warned her about any future 'incidents'."

"That little hussy's been after you since day one," Danan warned him. "Even when she was sane."

"Excuse me, but I require the transporter pads to be cleared for the next group," a Rihansu tech informed them.

They looked about the transporter room with some chagrin. P'Ris and a group of her senior officers had been present for their exchange.

"Problem?" P'Ris asked in obvious amusement.

"Not really," Macen replied stonily as he and Danan stepped of the transporter pads. Six of his crew materialised in a crimson blaze behind them as they spoke with P'Ris.

"Do we have everything prepared?" Danan asked.

P'Ris nodded. "As prepared as we can be. I have pulled the last three security codes out of the datacore. They are available for your scrutiny at any time."

"Good," Macen replied cheerlessly.

"Is there any other way I can assist you?" P'Ris asked, noting Macen's grim preoccupation.

"Do you have a training area?" he asked. "Somewhere where we can exercise our team?"

P'Ris smiled. "Yes. We have an area specifically designed for that purpose."

"Can you have the message sent to my people to join us there after they have stowed their gear?"

"Certainly," she replied again, then her smile became somewhat predatory. "I would venture that several of my crew would be...delighted to engage in sparring with your people."

Macen's feral smile matched her's in intensity. "We'd be delighted to have them join us."

Danan shook her head as the Commander led them to their temporary quarters.

"This is stupid," Danan said sourly.

The exercise area within the Warbird was immense. The size of the assembled crowd made it appear quite small. She guessed that at least half of the Rihansu crew had shown up for this spectacle.

"C'mon," Macen replied flippantly. "It'll build morale and camaraderie."

"If you believe that, then you're a bigger fool than I thought," Danan replied sharply. "They're here to see the 'vaunted' Federation representatives get pounded into the mat."

"Then why are you here?" Macen probed.

Danan rolled her eyes. "I'm here to record the full extent of my foolishness." She glared at him. "It's a Trill thing. When one of us is being stupid, we all line up to assist in making sure the symbiot survives for posterity."

"And here I was hoping it was just because you cared about me," Macen replied sarcastically.

"Maybe later I will," Danan replied. "But not right now."

Macen turned to face her, "Why don't we just get it over with now?"

"Get what over with?" she asked angrily.

"Whatever's eating you."

"Nothing is 'eating' me."

"Bull," he scoffed. "Ever since T'Kir kissed my cheek, you've been a royal..."

"Don't say it," Lisea hissed a warning, then glaring at Macen spoke. "All right. The kiss bothered me." She spread her arms wide. "Honestly, it bothered the hell out of me."

"Why?" he asked, genuinely perplexed and frustrated.

"Because I haven't seen you in three years," she informed him, dropping her arms with a slap against her side. "I have no idea how you feel."

Brin's expression was one of incredulity. "You don't know how I feel?" Exasperation crept into his voice. "Then why have I been bothered telling you how I feel for the last few weeks?"

"Brin," Lisea reached out for him. "Please..."

He brushed her hand aside. "Please what? Don't you trust me any more? Is that it?"

"Of course I trust you," she assured him. "I don't trust her."

"If you trust me," he sighed, "then trust me to deal with T'Kir."

That said, Macen turned and walked towards the exercise mats. Lisea stayed alone against the wall. Brin's words had struck a resonant chord within her. Her anger stemmed from a lack of trust. He had not done anything to deserve her distrust, she merely assigned it to him.

She mentally chastised herself as she stepped in closer towards the mats. She knew whatever happened her would get interesting. Romulans, Rihansu...whatever you wanted to call a Vulcanoid, were much stronger than humans. El-Aurians were in that same strength class. A Rihansu child could crush a human adult's bones with little effort expended. Every Rihansu gathered around the mat with a hungering eye was an adult.

Derrico and his troops were in prime physical condition, at least by Federation standards. Danan had been amused by the change in Macen's physique in the last three years. He had begun the infamous "Starfleet expansion". It was a qualified myth that the higher one reached on the chain of command in Starfleet, the wider the waistband wearing the uniform was.

Macen had fought the good fight for eighty years, but his last three years on Angosia had had their affect. Lisea knew he was far from portly. She found him more attractive than ever. He'd filled out to the point where he was no longer wiry. He did, however, now have a paunch in his abdominal region. She knew he'd received comparisons with William Riker over the last ten years or so. In this area, it was certainly applicable.

The Starfleet personnel were already engaged in some simple tumbling exercises. Macen walked onto the mat with them. Within seconds, he was engaged in a hearty wrestling match with an ensign named Smithers. The Rihansu were whispering amongst themselves.

"Starfleet!" a Rihansu called out. "Are you prepared for a real challenge?"

Macen turned in the voice's direction. His smile was predatory. "Any time."

A literal flood of bodies surged towards the mat. Macen held his arms in the air and shouted for order.

"Hold on!" he yelled. "We need to establish a few rules."

"What kind of rules?" a jeering voice asked suspiciously.

"The rules are simple: don't get thrown off the mat," Macen informed them.

"You said 'rules'." Another voice, female this time. "That implies a plural. What are the other rules?"

Macen's smile was mischievous. "No inflicting permanent damage. That means 'no killing'."

"What about breakages?" a bloodthirsty voice called out.

"As long as they aren't permanent," Macen replied evenly.

The Rihansu roared their approval. One Rihansu officer was designated the 'referee'. He held up his arm. The combatants readied themselves. The Rihansu's arm dropped and the melee began.

Well, Danan thought to herself, they're not doing that badly. Over a dozen Rihansu lay scattered about the mat. Macen's rules had given the Starfleet team the initial advantage. They struck at their opponents ruthlessly. Every attack designed to incapacitate their opponent. The Rihansu had adapted swiftly and the second wave from the floor had struck with greater ferocity.

The Starfleet team lost Smithers during that round. The sandy haired ensign had sailed off the mat and into a bulkhead. He'd remained unconscious ever since. The third wave had cost the team even more. They were now at half strength. Many of the first Rihansu causalities had returned from their Casualty ward and were clamouring against the referee's decision that any combatant thrown from the mat was disqualified from returning in later rounds. The fourth wave was being dealt with as the argument concluded.

Only three of Starfleet crew remained on the mat. Macen, Derrico, and Jansen rocked on their heels, trying desperately to catch their breath before the next onslaught was unleashed upon them. Lisea gauged the savage hunger radiating from the crowd waiting their turn and did not envy them what was about to occur. The Rihansu knew victory was at hand, and they wanted to make it as painful as possible. The stoic resilience of the Federation crew sparked sympathy among some of the non-combatants. They urged that the match be halted. The others ignored them, blinded by the "insult" of being humbled by an "inferior" race. Retribution had to exacted.

The referee brought his arm up. The crowd surged forward, ready to rush on to the mat. Lisea sucked in a deep breath and held it. Macen, Derrico, and Jansen assumed "guard" positions and awaited the inevitable.

The doors to the exercise area opened and P'Ris marched in. Her manner was imperious and her temper livid. Her eyes swept the crowd scathingly. Disapproval radiated from her every pore.

"What is going on here?" she asked disdainfully.

"A contest, Commander," the referee explained haltingly.

"Really?" she replied scornfully, "I would think that it is an unruly mob about to rush three exhausted warriors. Wouldn't you agree, Centurion?" The referee nodded embarrassed agreement with the assessment. Her voice turned frigid. "Since when do Rihansu fight as mongrel scavengers?"

Silence met her question.

"I see," she commented tonelessly. "Perhaps we are no longer worthy of the name our ancestors carved out for themselves." She stood silent for a moment longer, "You are all dismissed. Have your wounds tended to." She turned to Danan "I assume Captain Macen encouraged this?" Danan nodded. P'Ris snorted. "Males," she said contemptuously and then left to return to her bridge.

After cleaning up, and having several strains and bruises treated, Macen joined Danan and P'Ris on the Warbird's bridge. A stream of data being displayed on the Commander's personal console engrossed the two women. Macen stepped behind them in order to see what had captivated them. What he saw shocked him.

"Those are Starfleet codes!" Macen blurted.

"Yes, they are," Danan murmured, distracted by what she was reading.

"That means we can forge our orders and clearances to the Gulag," Macen said happily.

Danan smiled. "The first good news we've received."

They had twelve hours until they would reach Gulag's sensor range. Macen ordered his crew to try and get as much rest as they could over the first ten of those hours. Needless to say, sleep was elusive. It was a time of mounting tension for all. Macen and Danan spent most of the time with P'Ris and her bridge crew. Macen had analysed a pattern to the Starfleet traffic. Danan had forged their clearances utilising their new understanding of the codes. They were a variant of previous codes.

"This is important," Macen said, studying the latest intercepted message. He leaned back and put his feet up on the small table in P'Ris' quarters. "They aren't using transwarp communications and their codes are a bastardised variant of Starfleet Command protocols."

"Meaning?" P'Ris asked irritably. They'd been racking their brains for hours trying to anticipate every potential reaction they might receive when they reached Gulag.

"I don't think this is truly a Marine operation," Macen declared.

"How can you say that?" Danan asked, raising her head from its suspended position between her knees. "They use the uniforms, the weaponry, and the codes. How can they not be Marines?"

"How can we use Vulcans to portray Romulans?" he asked, placing his hands behind his head. "I think this operation is headed up by Section 31, hence the modus operandi, but I don't think that most of the personnel serving at the Gulag are the real thing."

"Do you have any evidence other than missing pieces of code?" P'Ris asked crossly.

Macen grinned. "Yeah, one big clue. There aren't any surviving Marines left in the entire galaxy to man this base, much less its supplying operations across the Federation."

"What is Section 31?" P'Ris asked.

Macen broke into a wry grin. "It's a long story. Suffice it to say they have access to the records and equipment to organise this sort of thing. It's also their style of operation."

"Can you be certain of that?" P'Ris asked.

Macen shook his head, chuckling. "Nothing in life is certain. The fortunes of war are what they are. With more time and data, we could discover what every member of the Gulag's staff had for breakfast. Unfortunately, we don't have the time to take the cautious approach."

"Do we ever?" Danan teased.

Macen shot her a perturbed glance. "We need to neutralise this installation as swiftly as possible so that we can gather evidence against the originators of this conspiracy."

"Why do you refer to it as a conspiracy?" P'Ris asked, perplexed.

Macen's chuckle was full of dark irony. "The Federation's citizenry doesn't realise the extent of the power base gained by their representatives. This entire operation has been cloaked in secrecy to prevent a burgeoning awareness of such facts."

P'Ris broke into an amused smile. "You sound rather cynical."

"He is, trust me." Danan assured her. "You should hear his views on the future of humanity."

"I can only imagine," P'Ris commented. A chime interrupted their reverie. "We are now within scanning range of the Gulag. We should proceed to the bridge."

Macen and Danan followed her to the command deck of the Warbird. Once they arrived, they were informed that the Gulag's commander had been trying to contact P'Ris in order to confirm her orders. P'Ris sat down regally in her command chair and received the incoming signal. The image that appeared on her screen was a serious countenanced woman with unruly blonde hair pulled into a braid. She wore a Peacemaker uniform with Lieutenant's insignia.

"Attention Rihansu Warbird T'Kut, this is Marine Command. Please respond," the woman's voice came over the speakers. Her voice was soft, with a confident edge to it. Macen suspected her alto could inspire terror when properly manipulated.

"This is Commander P'Ris of the T'Kut to Marine Command. How may I be of assistance?" Her voice was smooth and polished.

"Greetings, Commander," the Lieutenant replied. "I am requesting confirmation of your orders. We weren't expecting anyone for another two weeks."

"I am bringing a relief contingent of guards and personnel for your facility," P'Ris explained calmly.

"No one here knows anything about a relief contingent," the Lieutenant informed her suspiciously.

"Perhaps you do not know of it," P'Ris replied sharply.

"I am Captain Carrase's aide," the Lieutenant replied irritably. "If he knows of it, I know of it."

"Carrase's aide?" P'Ris replied dubiously. "I have never hear of you. What is your name?"

"What does that have to do with..." the woman replied in a fluster before being interrupted.

"Your name, woman!" P'Ris demanded. "I have been involved with the transportation of prisoners and personnel to this facility since its inception. I need to verify your identity."

The Marine sighed. "I am Lieutenant Calyn Qek."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Qek," P'Ris replied amiably. "Have you had an opportunity to review our orders?"

"They seem to be in order," Qek informed her. "Transit is approved."

"Very well," P'Ris replied. "Please inform Captain Carrase that my crew is at his disposal during our stay here."

"I'm sure he'll be appreciative," Qek replied sardonically. "Command out."

The screen went blank and P'Ris turned towards Macen and Danan, who had witnessed the entire exchange while staying out of the viewer's scan. "What do you think now?"

"She's definitely a Marine," Macen pronounced.

"Yup," Danan agreed heartily. "Sounds just like one of the recordings."

"Marine Command to commander T'Kut, please acknowledge," a crisp voice came over the Warbird's speakers as she slid into orbit over the prison facility the planet below was named after.

"T'Kut acknowledges, Marine Command," P'Ris replied. "Awaiting further instructions."

"You may begin transporting the personnel to the assigned co-ordinates," the voice informed them.

"Very well," P'Ris replied crisply, then added, "May I make an additional inquiry?"

There was a noticeable pause before the voice spoke again. "State your request."

"I desire to accompany the personnel to the surface," P'Ris informed him.

"Why?"

P'Ris raised her eyebrow. "The commander of the forces I am transporting has alerted me to possible obstacles concerning future 'services' normally provided by my vessels. I wish to discuss these with Captain Carrase."

Another substantial pause, and then, "Agreed. You may accompany the personnel."

"Thank you," P'Ris replied politely. She turned to Macen and Danan. "It is now your operation. Let us hope that fortune smiles upon your endeavours."

Macen, Danan, and P'Ris materialised in an open balcony overlooking a courtyard filled with prisoners. Standing between them and the entrance to the prison building were three armed men and Lieutenant Calyn Qek. The men wore the all black battle fatigues of Starfleet origin. Qek wore the typical grey/black duty uniform.

Macen took the opportunity to study Qek more thoroughly. She had high cheekbones that accentuated an angular jaw. Her lips were thin, with slight dimples at either end. Her nose was gracefully shaped, with a slight upturn. Her skin was quite fair. Her eyes held Macen's attention. They were quite large, crowned with long lashes. They were also the darkest grey Macen had ever seen. They expressed barely restrained curiosity and passion. They spoke of a far-reaching and questing intelligence that was akin to Macen's own. She was fairly tall. She stood over both Danan and P'Ris. Her frame was thin and rangy. Qek did not possess an athletic build, her thinness derived as much form living on rations as to biology.

"Where is Captain Carrase?" Macen asked.

"She is in the Command Centre," she replied crisply. "I will show you the way."

She turned and entered the complex. Macen walked alongside her. Danan and P'Ris followed closely behind. One of the three armed Marines trailed behind. The other two remained stationed on the balcony.

"Where have my men arrived at?" Macen asked.

Qek gave him a confused look, then smiled. "They are at the primary troop barracks. They are there awaiting their next orders. Those will be forthcoming after your meeting with Captain Carrase."

They marched in silence for some time. They navigated the labyrinth of passages until they reached a heavily constructed double door. Macen floated in a stream of memories. He'd previously served in installations similar to this. Although, the differences in purpose were rather glaring. The doors opened outwardly. Qek led them inside. Several techs manned various posts. Standing over them was a small, dark skinned woman.

"Captain Carrase," Qek said respectfully. "The new officers are here."

Carrase turned to inspect the new "replacements". Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Captain Macen, I wasn't aware that you'd joined us."

Macen shrugged. "It wasn't a matter that was discussed among many." He'd known that there was a chance that some of the personnel here might recognise either Danan or himself.

Carrase seemed to accept this. "I can understand why," Carrase commented, then changing the topic, "May I ask why you are here?"

"Starfleet has obtained evidence of this installation's existence," Macen told her. "I'm here to review your records and see if there is an informant among your personnel."

"The records are not stored here," Carrase replied. "They are in the Archives building. They are primarily Lieutenant Qek's responsibility."

Qek flushed slightly at Carrase's shifting of potential blame. Macen didn't blame her. "Then we should start there."

Carrase motioned towards the doors and the company stepped out of them once more. As they were leaving, P'Ris raised her left wrist to her voice and discreetly said, "Proceed."

Derrico's wrist comm vibrated softly. He raised it to his ear and heard P'Ris whisper, "Proceed." Derrico took two controlled breaths. This was the moment he and his team had trained for over the last few days. His people were spread out across the barracks. Each one had occupied a strategic position, both in terms of fire control and visibility.

Every member of his team could see his every movement. His hand flashed the silent signal and the team's response was instantaneous. It took less than three seconds to kill every soldier in the room. The team reached into their tactical vests and withdrew dark glasses. They put them on. Everyone's vision was now slightly enhanced. More importantly, electronic tags every crewman wore now transmitted a red "halo" around their wearer. Anyone wearing the glasses could easily identify their comrades.

The team slipped out of the barracks and divided into three units. Each unit was designated to find and destroy an anti-matter converter. Without the power generated by the modified warp cores, the shields and phaser banks would be inoperable. It was a fairly delicate brand of sabotage. A mistake could result in a core breach and the installation's destruction.

The Odyssey sat beyond the Gulag's sensor range. T'Kir sat at her post watching the chronometer. If everything had gone according to plan, then the assault had begun. They could now move further into the system.

"Set course for Gulag," T'Kir ordered.

D'art looked at her console, but did not comply. T'Kir swivelled her seat so that she faced D'art.

"Hel-looo," she said, waving her hand up and down. "Subspace calling Ensign D'art. I say, 'Set course for Gulag'." She acted out, pointing at herself, then at D'art, "You say, 'Yes sir, course laid in'. Then we sail off for the planet." She veered her arm off like a missile to illustrate her point.

"No," D'art growled from the back of her throat. She turned to face the Vulcan. Her face was livid with rage. "I say 'put your hands up'." She held a phaser and held it pointed at T'Kir.

T'Kir rolled her eyes. "You don't seriously think you'll stop everything from happening?" she asked laughingly.

"I don't need to," D'art sneered. "The forces down there will easily overwhelm the pathetic band sent down there."

"Right," T'Kir replied scornfully.

"Get up," D'art barked. T'Kir complied, putting her hands in the air. D'art leaned in closer. "I bet you didn't hear me say this."

"Actually," T'Kir answered, crooking her finger towards the door, "I did."

D'art turned towards the left to see Kort stepping out if it armed with a Klingon disrupter. D'art began to turn to aim at Kort. As she did, T'Kir spoke for the computer's benefit. "Computer, execute Sarek One."

D'art completed her turn and pressed the firing stud on the phaser. Nothing happened. She whirled to face T'Kir who stood grinning victoriously at her.

T'Kir blew her a kiss. "Got you."

"You...you...you...bi..." D'art began to scream before collapsing unconscious courtesy of a disrupter blast from Kort.

"All's well that ends well," T'Kir said brightly, then kicked D'art's still form.

"Stand down, T'Kir," Kort growled. "She is unable to defend herself. There is no honour in this."

T'Kir turned to him, her eyes hard with hatred. "Who cares about honour? I just want revenge."

Kort shook his head sadly as he bent to lift D'art.

Derrico's squad moved silently through the corridors. They were death to anyone that happened across them. Fortunately for both them and others, they did not happen across many people. Derrico knew it would only take one miss for them to lose the element of surprise. He ignored his moral qualms and focused on not missing.

Carasse led the others into a small, cylindrically shaped room. The data core sat in the middle of the room. It was a crystalline structure that sat within a round dais. Molecular scanners stretched from the dais upward, surrounding the crystal. Data terminals were located in a circular pattern around the dais.

"This is our Archive," Carasse said proudly.

"I haven't seen a data matrix for nearly a hundred years," Macen murmured.

"Yes, we were fortunate to find one intact," Carrase replied. He turned to face Carasse. "Have you ever considered what you are doing?"

Carrase looked perplexed. "Why...why should I?"

Macen shrugged. "Maybe to reflect on whether or not your actions are necessary, or even right?"

She was aghast. "No."

He sighed. "That's what I thought." Macen hit her across her jaw, sending her to the floor.

"What are you doing?" Qek asked in alarm. She jerked her pistol out of her holster.

"Listen to me carefully," Macen said slowly, turning towards her with his hands raised and his palms out, "Your superiors have been lying to you."

"Why would they do that?"

"Because they can't stand the truth," Danan replied. "It exposes things they can't stand to have revealed."

"Like what?" Qek stammered.

"Like the fact they aren't needed any more," Macen answered coldly.

"No," Qek snarled. "Its not true." She went for her phaser. Qek's mouth puckered. She sank to the ground. Behind her, P'Ris held her disrupter. The feet of the other Marines could be seen to either side of her.

P'Ris shrugged. "I couldn't let you get killed. I want to see what you will do next."