Chapter 8
by Travis Anderson

The transporter beams made the air shimmer and vibrate. Five forms materialised from the incandescent fire. Four of them looked about at their surroundings with some confusion. They appeared to have beamed into a cargo bay.

"Where are we?" Derrico asked, voicing the question on almost everyone's mind.

A fleeting smile crossed Danan's face. "We're on the S.S. Odyssey."

"That's not funny," Tarrik growled.

Danan turned to face the other officers. "It wasn't meant to be humorous. This ship is the Odyssey. The registration of this ship was given to the prototype we just abandoned in order to confuse any record searches."

"So what...what kind of ship is this?" Grace asked.

"It's a Blackbird-class," Danan replied with a shrug. "This is the ship Captain Macen and I commanded in the Maquis."

Derrico nearly choked. "This is a Maquis ship?"

Danan gave him a withering glare. "Yes, it is. This ship has saved thousands of lives during that service. I don't want to ever hear you disparage her, or her cause, in any way."

"Yes, sir," Derrico replied crisply.

Danan gave the others a cunning smile. "Then I suggest we get to the bridge and begin to use this ship for something useful."

The group quickly rushed out into the corridors. A handy map of the decks was posted on the wall. Their primary interests were on Decks 1 and 4. That would be the Bridge and Engineering. Tarrik would secure engineering. The rest would proceed to the bridge.

They reached the bridge, startling the two crewmen sitting there. They'd been left as caretakers until the ship was recalled into active duty. The sight of four armed Starfleet personnel bursting into the bridge was enough to thoroughly unnerve them. Danan could easily understand how the two had drawn such a pathetic assignment.

"Computer," she said aloud as Derrico escorted the two men to the rear of the bridge and "advised" them to stay quietly at the work table there. "Initiate command release to Lt. Commander Lisea Danan, authorisation Expedition Kurzon Twelve."

"Command codes accepted," the computer chimed back.

Danan sat down comfortably in the command chair and activated her two display consoles. Grace went to the helm/ops station at the front of the bridge and began de-coupling procedures. Derrico hurried to Tactical, which sat to the right of the command chair, facing forward. T'Kir plopped down into the Science station, which was arranged like Tactical only on the left instead, and began running sensor diagnostics.

Derrico turned towards Danan with professional admiration on his face. "How'd you know...?"

Danan grinned. "Captain Macen discovered they'd put it in storage while we were searching the captured database from Gulag. He activated the command codes through subspace transmission while we were en route."

Derrico shook his head while grinning ear to ear. He returned his attention to his console. "Phaser banks are fully charged. Torpedo racks are stocked and ready. Shields are ready at your command."

"Understood," Danan acknowledged. "Helm?"

"I have cleared all moorings," Grace reported. "I have impulse engines and thrusters on-line."

Danan tapped her comm badge. "Tarrik, what's your status?"

"Engineering looks good," he replied. "I brought warp engines on-line. I could use another hand down here."

Danan nodded to herself. "You've got it." She turned to T'Kir. "You've just been elected."

"Why me?" T'Kir protested, and pointed at Grace. "Why not her?"

"You've more experience," Danan replied in a warning tone.

"Whatever," T'Kir muttered as she left her station. "You just don't like me."

Danan routed the sensors to one of her display. The other showed the ship's tactical data. The technical data on the Blackbird class had revealed that the ship was designed to operate under "extreme conditions with minimal staffing". She wondered if her designers had ever contemplated going into battle with a crew of 5. It shouldn't be much of a stretch considering her normal complement of 22.

"Ahead one quarter impulse," Danan ordered.

"One quarter, aye," Grace replied quickly as her hands flittered across her controls.

"Increase speed to full impulse once we've cleared the orbital dock," Danan continued confidently. "Plot our course take us in an elliptic orbit to the other side of the planet."

She turned to Derrico. "Raise shields. Ready phasers and torpedoes."

The Odyssey cleared her moorings and accelerated as she sped around the planet. She'd been parked in a high polar orbit. Her new course put her on an intercept course for the last known location of the Fortitude. Danan glanced down at her display and saw the three ships ahead of them. They were engaged in combat, two against the Enterprise.

"Lock phasers," Danan snapped off. "Fire at will."

The Odyssey dove in, phasers blazing.

"Another starship has engaged in the contest," a nervous tech reported.

"Which ship?" Ran hissed.

"The Odyssey, sir," the tech gulped.

"What?" Ran asked dumbfounded.

Picard and Drake both chose that moment to move. Drake hurled herself into Voos. Picard made for a nearby console. His fingers groped for the transport inhibitor controls. Finding them, he deactivated the inhibitors.

Ran yelled in rage and took aim for Picard. Another cry lifted as Jellico interposed himself between Picard and Ran. The phaser burst meant for Picard grazed the Admiral across the shoulder. Ran never had the opportunity to fire another as Starfleet Security officers beamed in behind him and fired.

A Security Lieutenant Commander pulled Voos off of Drake. He wrenched her arm behind her in a restraining hold. He gave Drake a bland smile. Drake gave him an appreciative pat on the shoulder as she focused her attention towards the Nerve Centre's techs.

"Patterson," she snapped. "I need an update!"

"A Blackbird-class has joined in the orbital skirmish," Patterson reported. "She has sided with the Enterprise."

"What is the ship's name?" Picard asked, having left Jellico to a medic.

"The Odyssey," Patterson reported ironically.

Macen had transported to the President's office only to find that the august representative had already departed to attend the Federation Council meeting. The Council met in the adjoining Chambers building. Alarms set off by his unauthorised transport were already sounding. He had to get to the Chambers quickly.

Macen stepped out of the office, past the startled secretaries and aides. He stepped out into the main corridor and saw several uniformed men approaching him. Their serious demeanours indicated a succinct unwillingness to discuss Macen's reasons for being there. He took a deep breath and readied himself for the battle that was about to occur.

Several minutes later, Macen was strolling down the corridor. The secretary occupying the room he'd thrown a Protective Services man into, through the transparent aluminium door was on her comm. He only stopped his march long enough to pick up a pair of phasers dropped by the men he had just incapacitated.

He'd studied the layout of the building during the long flight here from the Gulag. One level down was an access to the nearest skybridge interconnecting the Chambers complex with the Office of the President. That route would be blocked. However, he might still be able to get there from this level.

Macen strode towards the enclosed balcony overlooking the bridge. A Services man lunged out of a corner at him from behind. Macen allowed the man to get one arm around his shoulders before thrusting his elbow into the man's mid-section. He finished the movement by sweeping the man's moving legs with one of his, and dipping his shoulder down.

The Services man fell to the floor. Macen kicked him square on the nose with his knee. The man went over backwards, his head hitting the duracrete floor. He went limp as unconsciousness overwhelmed him.

Macen bent down and retrieved another phaser. He calmly walked up to the balcony's enclosure. He thumbed the phaser's power setting to overload and walked away. Macen took cover behind a structural arch as the phaser's whine hit its crescendo.

A brilliant flash of light accompanied the phaser's detonation. Bolts of iridescent energy flashed down the corridor, resembling lightening. Several Services men approaching Macen's position were caught in the discharge's wake. They were knocked unconscious.

Macen removed himself from his shelter and approached the hole he had created in the outer wall of the building. He leapt across a corresponding hole in the skybridge's ceiling. He began a jog and made for the other side of the bridge. He had to get there before the Service's agents could block his entry into the building.

He reached the end of the bridge without encountering opposition. He could see several agents yelling at him through the plastisteel windows. He ignored them and retrieved a piton launcher form his utility belt. He aimed for a balcony several stories above his position and fired.

The piton sank into the balcony. It formed a molecular bond with the balcony and held solid. Macen attached the other end of the launcher to his belt and depressed the retrieval stud. He suddenly began an ascent upwards as the cable was shortening back into the launcher.

He stopped the cable when he was still several metres below the balcony. He fired a phaser at the wall, disintegrating it. He swung like a pendulum and released the launcher's connection to his belt when he had achieved sufficient momentum to reach the building. He landed on the floor, tucking into a roll.

Macen got to his feet and headed for the stairwell leading to the roof access. He ran up the stairs until he reached the roof. He slowly stepped out onto the roof with a phaser ready. Finding the way clear, he began a sprint across.

He was halfway across when two Type Nine shuttles streaked in towards him. They opened up with phaser fire. They barely missed him on either side. He stumbled and went down, rolling across the roof.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the searing pains coming from several joints and muscles. To his left was the dome that housed the Federation Council's meetings. Straight ahead and behind were angled drops, modelled after Gothic cathedrals. The shuttles were looping back for a second pass.

Macen adjusted the power setting on first one phaser, then another. He then steadied himself and prepared for his run. The shuttles came in much lower. They were only a hundred metres above the roof.

Macen aimed at the one on his right and fired both phasers at it. He had set the weapons to release their entire charge in a single blast. The shuttle's shields flickered and its flight path wavered. Macen threw the two phasers away and began a mad dash for the slope.

The two shuttles broke off and gained altitude. Macen leapt off the side and landed ten metres lower. He landed on the slick crystalline surface and began to slide. As he careened down the angled side of the building, he withdrew another piton launcher form his belt.

He clipped the line to his belt and waited for the moment to fire. He waited until seconds before he slid over the edge. He plummeted in freefall for several seconds before he stopped the line form playing out. The rope snapped taut and broke his fall in an awful snapping motion.

He bounced off the side of the building once. As he swung away from it, he pulled his pulsar pistol form his holster and fired several bursts into the wall. It demolecularised a gaping hole. Macen released the line and sailed in through the hole.

He staggered to his feet and continued his march towards the Chambers.

The Odyssey broke away from the Fortitude. She continued around the Earth's curve at full impulse. The beleaguered Fortitude followed. She fired phaser bursts at the rapidly manoeuvring Odyssey. The targeting system couldn't lock on to the ship while it engaged in all of its evasive turned and jigs.

Danan smiled like a wolf. She had hurt the Fortitude. Her captain was a proud woman. She'd never let a gnat like the Odyssey escape unpunished.

The simple fact that the Odyssey's phasers were nearly as powerful as the Fortitude's would never factor into that mental calculus. The smaller ship was manoeuvrable enough to literally fly circles around the larger ship, a fact it had demonstrated with skill. Nothing would succour MacKenzie's wounded pride except the defeat of her opponent by her hands.

Danan was counting on that reaction. Her plan depended upon it. They had set course straight for the massive SpaceDock complex in orbit a bare seven thousand kilometres away. The Fortitude was nicely co-operating by being led blindly by the nose.

"SpaceDock is hailing," Grace announced.

"They want us to turn about," Dellico added.

"We will," Danan assured him. "Shortly."

She opened a comm channel to the Fortitude. "Once I clear SpaceDock, I'll head out of system at full warp. Catch me if you can."

Derrico stared at her in bewilderment as she closed the channel. She shrugged while wearing an impish smile. "The old taunts are the best taunts."

"The Fortitude is arming photon torpedoes," Derrico warned.

"Good," Danan said in satisfaction.

"Torpedoes away!" Derrico announced.

"Wait for it," Danan told Grace calmly. Seconds ticked by before she called out, "Evasive action, bring us about."

Grace nearly turned the Odyssey up on its "end". She vectored the ship away from the atmosphere. The four torpedoes were unable to manoeuvre that tightly and sped past. Grace continued the loop and brought the ship around, with her primary weapons array aimed squarely at the Fortitude.

Derrico fired the phasers. The staccato pattern of the phaser fire resembled ancient anti-aircraft fire. The Odyssey maintained a four-second burst before vectoring off and leaving the Fortitude behind. The Odyssey was returning to aid the Enterprise, if she needed it. The Fortitude had larger problems.

The torpedoes sailed past the Odyssey, and squarely into Stardock's shields. Their primary weapons array was targeted on the Fortitude, and began firing as the Odyssey broke off. Impulse sleds and fighters launched and surrounded the crippled starship. MacKenzie and her crew were out of the fight.

"The Perseverance is signalling her surrender," Data informed Riker.

Riker grinned triumphantly. Once the Enterprise only faced a single opponent, she'd quickly knocked the fight out of her. The imminent return of the Odyssey galvanised Captain Guttman into action. He assumed he stood a better chance with Riker than with whoever was in command of the Odyssey.

"Signal our acceptance," Riker told Data. "Then hail the Odyssey. I'd like to thank them for their timely intervention."

"The Fortitude has attacked Stardock," Patterson informed Drake and Picard. "They have returned fire and launched defence forces."

"Where is the Odyssey?" Picard asked.

"Rejoining the Enterprise, sir," came the report. "The Perseverance seems to have signalled her surrender."

"Very good," Picard replied in relief, then turned to Drake. "But, where in all of this is Captain Macen?"

"Where else?" Nechayev asked wearily form a communications console. "He's trying to break into the Federation Council Chambers."

"We must go there immediately!" Picard exclaimed.

Nechayev chuckled. "As usual, Captain, I'm already ahead of you. Transporter Six is waiting for us. We can beam directly to the Council floor."

The shuttles were circling back around. Two more shuttles came bearing in on them. The original shuttles turned and opened fire on the new arrivals. An aerial battle quickly erupted.

Macen didn't care. It provided a greater distraction for him. He continued down the corridor. Ahead, it reached a "T" junction. Just around the corner to the right, there should be a door that granted access into the Chamber's back anterooms.

Macen came to the junction and stopped he cautiously peered around the corner, weapon ready. The left was clear. He holstered his pistol and began to approach the door on the right. It opened.

Macen's hand flew to his pistol of its own accord. He had the weapon aimed and ready. The person facing him never flinched. The man was a Vulcan wearing ambassadorial robes.

"Your actions are illogical," the Vulcan informed him. "You must cease them immediately."

Macen kept his weapon trained on the Vulcan as he scornfully replied, "My actions are illogical? Where's the logic in deporting your citizens?"

The Vulcan remained unperturbed. "Their thinking was in error. They refused to see the fallacy of their logic. For the good of the many, they were removed."

Macen shook his head angrily. "That sounds similar to the Cardassian Union."

The Vulcan's eyebrow rose. "It is a logical society. The state must prosper in order to provide stability for its citizens."

Macen snorted. "The only thing their state ever provided were endless wars to expand the borders."

"Nevertheless," the Vulcan replied calmly, "it also provided you with the cause and purpose to continue your life and in the Maquis you found a society to replace that which you lost to the Borg."

"We survived," Macen replied angrily. "By the mercy bestowed upon us by the Federation. I won't allow anyone to emulate the Borg by creating a place where dissent must be crushed to protect the fanatic dreams of an empowered few seeking their vision of 'perfection'."

"Our actions are in the name of the Federation as a collective whole," the Vulcan assured him.

"I will not be party to a system always sacrifices the individual for the so-called 'collective'," Macen said is low, measured tones.

"I shall not let you pass," the Vulcan informed him.

"We'll see," Macen replied. He stepped forward. The Vulcan moved swiftly, trying to grasp the nerve bundle in Macen's neck.

The Vulcan's eyes widened. He staggered back and gazed down at his mid-section, where his heart had been. Now, only charred hole remained. He fell to the ground with a look of absolute shock on his face.

Macen keyed the door and it slid open. He entered warily, weapon poised. Before him stretched a hall with multiple doors. He slowly moved past them, expecting an ambush. He reached the door at the other end without incident.

This door opened and he repeated his previous approach. This time, he was at an observation deck above the Council floor. Below him, the rotunda seating all of the Council members circled the President. Macen saw that he wasn't alone.

He was male, slightly older and heavier than Macen. His thinning hair was already white. His blue eyes stared malignantly at Brin. The man stood there with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Persistent bastard, aren't you?" he asked Macen.

"No less than you, Tetran," Macen replied disdainfully.

Tetran Ridl laughed. His laugh was as venomous as his gaze. Macen had known Ridl for nearly two decades. He had been a commander in the Starfleet Reaction Forces. That was the division of the Starfleet Commandos that responded to the threat of "domestic" crisis.

Macen and Ridl had battled throughout their association. Ridl's arm snapped around from behind his back. Macen was growing weary. He'd allowed his arms to droop so that his pistol was pointed at Ridl's feet. He brought the gun back up to pointing at Ridl's chest. Ridl now had a gun pointed at his chest as well. They stared at each other. Hate radiated from Ridl's eyes. Disgust and pity shone in Macen's. Neither gave quarter nor asked for it.

"You'll never kill me," Ridl mocked him.

Macen pulled the trigger. Ridl fell to the ground. He was dead before he hit the floor. Macen holstered his pistol. He left the observation lounge without a word.

Picard and Nechayev materialised in the middle of the Council Chambers. Dozens of members leapt to their feet. The President stepped off the podium towards them. His look of surprise matched that felt by all those in attendance.

"Admiral, Captain," he said softly. "How can I help you?"

"Actually," Nechayev replied wryly, "we're here to help you."

"With what?" the President asked, even more perplexed.

The Chamber doors flew open. Brin Macen stood there. His eyes blazed. He moved forward and walked forward.

Macen's movements reflected the pain he felt. Anger was all that moved him forward. He marched straight towards the President. He purposefully ignored the stares of the Council members as he passed.

He similarly ignored Nechayev and Picard as he came to attention. "Mr. President. I have evidence you need to see."

"Evidence?" the President repeated uncertainly. "Why present it to me? Is it not proper to present such things to Starfleet Command?"

"Not in this case," Macen replied stiffly. "I have uncovered evidence of an illegal operation conducted and condoned by elements of Starfleet, an underground movement, and by members of the Federation Council itself."

"What?" the President exclaimed.

"Mr. President," Nechayev joined in. "Commander Macen is correct."

The President looked stricken. This was too soon after the conclusion of the war. How many crises was he supposed to deal with?

"What evidence do you have?" the President croaked.

"The complete list of conspirators and all activities," Macen reported.

"Lies!" an Andorian representative shouted. "He is a terrorist! He has assaulted Security Services in both the President's Office and here in the Chambers. He has killed people."

"How many have you killed?" Macen snarled, turning to face the Andorian. The intensity in the look of contempt he gave the bombastic alien caused the Councillor to shrink back into his seat. "How many people have you condemned in order to justify your sense of superiority? How many lives have paid for you to be able to smugly sit here and feel that you're leadership is the greatest thing for your people?"

Silence resumed as Macen's last words echoed across the hall. His derisive snort echoed across the hall.

"There is no escape," Macen said sweeping his arm across the room. "We have you. We have all of you."

He turned to the President. He reached into a pouch in his belt and withdrew a data record chip. He handed it to the President.

"This is the evidence," Macen said without emotion. "Do what you need to do."

He turned and strode out of the Chamber. He held his head up proudly. He was satisfied. His duty had been done, justice would prevail. The only concern he had now was contacting his ship and checking on his crew...his people.

Three weeks later, Macen stood before Admirals Nechayev, Drake, and Jellico. He was wearing his standard uniform again. Jellico had made a snide comment regarding Macen's refusal to wear the Command Department's colour, but he'd subsided after Nechayev kicked him under the table.

This was the last hearing into the events that had led to the destruction of the Odyssey and to the deaths of several Starfleet personnel in orbit. He had already been cleared of his actions by Protective Services.

"It is the finding of this board that Commander Brin Macen is not culpable for the events listed in the articles of inquiry," Nechayev announced.

Macen grinned at that announcement. The only factor in the investigation that he'd feared might leverage it against him was Jellico's involvement. Having discussed the Admiral's line of questioning with his Senior Staff, he'd lost that fear. After that, it was just sitting through the tedium.

Jellico rose and approached Macen. He extended his hand.

"Congratulations," he said gruffly, then left.

Macen turned back to Nechayev and Drake. Nechayev motioned for him to sit in the chair before the table they sat behind. He complied and waited. Nechayev reviewed the data on a padd. She sat the padd down and stared straight at him.

"We shall now discuss the future of your command."

"I assumed I would resume command of the Odyssey," Macen replied.

"That's essentially correct," Nechayev responded. "There will be some changes."

Macen's expression became uneasy. "What kind of changes?"

Nechayev chuckled softly. "Personnel mostly. You submitted several recommendations before the informal inquiry, and now I have time to tell you what my decisions were."

Macen shifted in his seat as he prepared for the worst.

Nechayev ignored Macen's triumphant smile as she continued. "Regarding brevet Lieutenant Junior Grade T'Kir, her temporary rank as been revoked. She may remain in your custody provided..." Nechayev paused, hammering the last word. "...provided that she does not display any more bouts of instability."

Macen nearly cheered as Nechayev pointed a finger at him sternly. "T'Kir will be supervised. In fact, most of the former Maquis are being released. Any infractions or excessively irregular behaviour and they shall be remanded into custody. That includes T'Kir."

Macen nodded. His head was spinning as Nechayev resumed.

"Lt. Commander Danan will retain her current assignment as both your Science Officer and as your First Officer."

Macen was feeling giddy, but stifled the impulse to show it.

"Of your current senior officers, only one has requested to stay aboard. Doctor Kort has petitioned the Klingon High Command and will remain under your command as CMO. Many of the junior officers requested to stay aboard. Some of their requests will be granted."

Macen felt some disappointment, but it was overshadowed by the glow of his victories.

"Furthermore, the Odyssey will be sent to Planetia Utopia to be stripped down for parts."

"Wait a minute!" Macen protested. "You can't do that. She's my ship."

"Yes." Nechayev agreed. "You are retaining command of her."

Macen shook his head. "Not like that. I own her."

Nechayev gave him a thin smile. "Commander, the Odyssey was returned to the fleet upon your...return. She's the property of Starfleet."

"You stole my ship?" he growled.

"It was assigned to you only for the tenure of your assignment with the Maquis," Nechayev corrected.

"What do you want?" Macen asked in resignation.

Nechayev motioned towards Drake. "Admiral Drake is now your direct superior. She will be overseeing your entire Division."

"What Division?" Macen asked.

"A new one," Nechayev replied cryptically. "Assigned to trouble shooting crises."

Macen's eyebrows rose. "Trouble shooters?"

Nechayev sighed. "Surely this episode has proven that we need specialists in dealing with emergency situations? More directly, specialists that can and will operate outside the normal parameters of Starfleet?"

"Certainly, but..." Macen began. "But what exactly the parameters of such an assignment be?"

"It's a joint venture between Internal Affairs and Intelligence," Drake answered. "Recent events have shown Command that we're losing touch with operational realities."

"You can say that again," Macen muttered.

"Excuse me?" Drake asked sharply.

Nechayev suppressed a grin and glared instead.

Macen at least appeared contrite. "Sorry."

"As I was saying," Drake began again. "Command is realising that a lot is going on out there, and in our own fleet, that we don't know about. The bureaucracies have grown too large for our current organisations and institutions to keep track of. We need something new, a new perspective."

"So why me?" Macen asked warily. "I don't exactly abide by the rules."

"You're perfect for the job," Drake admitted ruefully. "You have little respect for ingrained thinking, or the ponderous inflexibility of red tape. You all want to change the galaxy? Well, here's your chance."

"Sounds nice, but a little too neat," Macen commented. "What's the catch?"

"This is also the easiest way to keep tabs on you," Drake admitted. "You're too stubborn to give up on your damned quest to change Starfleet. This is the best way to insure that we'll know if you're about to start another armed rebellion."

Macen sighed. "It wasn't a rebellion."

Drake smiled. "I know that, Commander. It was a group of homesteaders fighting to preserve the homes they'd carved out for themselves." Seeing his surprise, she shrugged. "My ancestors fought on the colonial side of the Argusian civil war."

Macen was familiar with this titbit of Terran history. Argus VI had been settled by a group of humans over two hundred years ago. When the Romulan war broke out, the colonists were ordered to evacuate. They refused. After the war, several ships from Earth were dispatched to deport the settlers. They refused to be deported. Six months of intense fighting broke out, only to be resolved by granting Argus independence and allowing it to sign the original Federation Charter.

Drake read the surprise in his eyes. "I understood the Maquis. I also disapproved of many of their methods."

"I won't argue with you there," Macen allowed.

"Having heard the details, will you join us?"

Macen rubbed his chin. "It's tempting, but it still sounds too good to be true."

"You'd rather be poking around the galaxy looking for a new planet for the Maquis survivors to settle down on," Nechayev finished dryly, waving her hand at him.

"So you say now," Nechayev snorted. "And then you'll go crazy because you didn't accept my offer."

"I doubt it. I've had enough problems with Section 31 without trying to steal their job description," Macen snorted sourly. "So what about my ship?"

"What about your assignment?"

"You can blow it out of the nearest airlock, sir."

"Really?" Nechayev asked disdainfully. "And you think this will help you in your career?"

"My career in Starfleet ended five years ago," Macen answered, voice flat. He reached for two padds that sat in the seat next to him. He picked them up and carried them over to the Admirals. He sat them down in front of Nechayev.

"And this would be?"

"My retirement papers," he explained. "And Lisea Danan's resignation."

"Is this your final decision?"

"Yes." Nechayev heard the steel in his reply.

"Very well." She shrugged. "Your requests will be refused immediately."

"What?!" he shouted suddenly.

Nechayev gave him a cool, appraising glance. "Starfleet is handling the repatriation of the Maquis. The colonies are being re-established as a Federation Protectorate. If you are looking for a place to be 'needed', it's right here Commander."

"Brin," Nechayev said with sigh. "You're one of my best. Both the Federation and Starfleet are at crossroads now that the war is over. I, we, can't afford to let you go now. I'm asking you again, will you accept the offer?"

"Thank you, Admiral," Macen replied quietly. "I think I will."

Nechayev's face nearly fell. She waved him away. "Get out. Leave now. If you start being proper now, I'll have you arrested."

He threw her a cocky salute. "That'll never happen." He turned serious again. "So what happens next?" he asked.

"Lt. T'Kir will undergo an advanced training program to bring her up to speed on Starfleet protocols. She'll also be observed and treated at that time. It should take three months. The rest of you will be assigned to the Academy as temporary lecturers."

Macen smirked.

"Don't do it, Brin. This isn't an opportunity for you to mangle cadet's minds."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Just leave, and take that rabble loitering on the plaza steps with you."

Macen stepped out into the plaza stretching out in front of Starfleet Command. Danan, Kort, and T'Kir stood together. They all looked nervous as he approached. He came toward them, his face a stony masque.

They saw the glower on his face and fell silent. No one spoke for several heartbeats.

Lisea broke the silence. "What did they say?"

"What do you think?" he replied sourly, "They want to assign us to a new ship, and they tried top recruit me into a new service division."

"What kind of division?" T'Kir asked suspiciously.

"Flying around kicking Federation petard," Macen replied. "They want us to do what we do best, annoy lazy, corrupt bureaucrats, outwit Starfleet officers and generally wreak havoc. We'd be the first agents of a new joint Starfleet Division created by Intelligence and Internal Affairs."

"What did you tell them?" Danan asked with a hint of worry in her voice.

"I told them it was about time they let us loose and that we would've done that with or without their permission." He grinned. "So, they're assigning us all to another ship together."

It took several minutes for his words to sink in. They stared at him while they tried to digest what they'd heard. Lisea figured it out first and laughed happily, hugging him fiercely. Macen broke into a laugh and the others followed suit, realising they'd been had.

They enjoyed the moment, knowing it was only the first of many yet to come.