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Colin Becker could hear them arguing several moments before the officers he had summoned came into view. No, they weren't exactly arguing. Strongly disagreeing might be the more accurate phrase. Something about the cultural habits of Bynars.
When they entered the ready room and spotted him, they lapsed into an abrupt silence, murmuring a greeting.
"Gentlemen." Colin said pleasantly. "Sit down."
His XO, Mark O'Conner, and his tactical officer, Turek, promptly complied.
Colin came to the point immediately. "I've recieved a communique from Starfleet asking us to investigate a suspicious matter in the Lyad system."
"A suspicious matter?" Mark asked, the delight in his voice evident. "What kind of suspicious matter?"
Without looking in his direction, Turek said reprovingly, "Perhaps if you refrain from further interuptions, the Captain will tell us."
Glancing sourly at Turek, Mark managed an apology. "I'm sorry, Captain. Please continue."
With a faint smile, Colin opened a small flat holovid and a three dimentional image of the Lyad system materialized over his desk.
"There are three small Rigelian trading outposts here, one on each moon. Their exports include luxury items, foodstuffs, and local Rigelian craftwork." He paused and pointed at the smallest moon, slate blue in color. "Recently, the outpost of Naare has added drug dealing to its list of revenue makers. Koma to be precise. A powerful hallucinogenic and illegal within Federation borders."
"Who are they selling to?" Mark asked.
"They're trading on the black market, to anyone with enough latinum, but Starfleet suspects the Orion syndicate are frequent customers." Colin terminated the holovid abruptly and Lyand's three moons disappeared. "We need to find out who's responsible and prove it. The Federation's drug enforcement arm will do the rest. I asked you both here to help me choose someone for a covert mission to Lyad."
"I'll go." Mark volunteered immediately.
"I believe I may be the more appropriate choice, Captain. With my background in tactics and security, I am well versed in the technique of subterfuge. I would most likely also assimilate better into a Rigelian colony than a human."
"Captain, you need somebody flexible and quick thinking. Logic alone won't work here. And if you want someone to infiltrate an underground organization, I think a Vulcan would seem more suspicious than a human."
"Good points. Why don't you both go?" Colin said abruptly.
"Both of us? Wouldn't one person seem less suspect?" Mark asked warily.
"I agree with Commander O'Conner. One person is more efficient--fewer questions would be asked." Turek responded.
"No, I think I've decided. You're both going. It will give you a chance to work together. Unless that's a problem?" Colin's expression dared either man to protest.
"No, sir."
"Of course not."
"Very well then. We're stopping at outpost 112 to pick up your shuttle and your new identities. I'll brief you further once I recieve all the details. If there are no questions, let's retire to the observation lounge. The rest of te senior staff is waiting to be briefed on our new mission.
***************
"No! You set your elbow at THIS angle." Seyla Ta'quith commanded, gripping the taller human by the hand.
"It is a matter of balance. The closer you are to your opponent, the more difficult it is for him to use his weapon." she explained as she stepped in towards him.
"Now, let us begin."
The unwitting Ensign hooked his foot around her ankle in an attempt to bring the Klingon down, but Seyla anticipated the move. She threw her hip against him and used her thigh as a fulcrum to neatly flip him over and to the ground.
She stood over the fallen man, hands on her hips and admonished, "If you had followed the sequence correctly, you would have met with more success."
"Lieutenant."
Seyla glanced in the direction of the voice. Lieutenant Commander Turek stood quietly in the doorway of the gymnasium, where he had apparently been observing them for some time.
Seyla stiffened. She disliked surprises and she particularly disliked the way the Vulcan habitually seemed to appear without warning. She helped her sparring partner to his feet and murmured a dismissal. Straightening her white jumpsuit and smoothing back her long dark hair, Seyla walked over to him.
"Yes, Sir?"
"I wish to inform you that i am going on an away mission which will take several days."
Seyla did not comment. That explained why they were currently in orbit around Outpost 112. She had been curious as to the purpose of thier visit.
"My task is to investigate black market hallucinogen sales in a Federation colony nearby. I intend to complete this mission and return to Prometheus as expediently as possible. While I am gone, you are in charge."
Seyla suppressed a surge of joy.
"Understood."
"I will expect a full report on my return." he warned her.
"Of course you will. When will you be leaving?"
He raised an eyebrow at the eager tone of her voice but did not comment on it. "In 75 minutes. I have prepared several tactical drills for the staff to undergo in my absence. Please append an evaluation of thier performance to your report."
He removed several discs from his pants pocket and handed them to his aCSO/aTAC. Seyla accepted them without comment, depositing them absently into the pocket of her jumpsuit.
Busy work.
But she would obey--she couldn't afford a poor evaluation if she wanted to be considered for the position Turek now held. She scanned Starfleet's manifests repeatedly, looking for an open CSO/CTO slot that she might apply for. Her day would come. Untl then, she would be nothing if not expertly efficient. She knew the qualities the Vulcan prized and she made sure he was aware she possessed them.
"I will meet with you on my return." Turek said, glancing at his chronometer.
"Good luck, sir."
"Luck has nothing to do with my success or failure. Goodbye, Lieutenant." Turek said briskly, and exited the gymnasium.
"There is no need to hurry back." she murmured under her breath,taking care to speak softly. She had learned, first hand, of the acuteness of Vulcan hearing.
***********
"Adjusting course to 3,0,12 mark 2." Mark announced the course correction, breaking the silence, as he pressed several panels on his display console.
As expected, Turek did not bother to reply. He kept his eyes on the starfield before them, his posture rigid and unmoving.
"Should we speed up to warp 2?" Mark asked conversationally.
"I leave the decision to you. I do not claim expertise in piloting."
"Very well." Mark flipped a switch beneath a green light. "Bringing her up to warp 2."
The old runabout shuddered slightly at the increased demand on her engines. Turek shot Mark a questioning glance but remained silent.
"Dont worry. She'll hold together." Mark assured him.
The shuttle they had been issued was battered and scratched, but it had adequate armament and weaponry--just what one would expect from the seedy traders they professed to be. Mark had studied his new identity and history, confident he could pull it off. He was less sure, however, of Turek's acting ability.
"Hopefully we'll be there soon. I dont anticipate any problems. In the meantime, do you want to listen to some music?"
"No. I do not."
"How about a holovid? There are several in the storage compartment. Surely there's something you'd find of interest."
"That would be unlikely. Thank you, but I prefer silence."
"Suit yourself." Mark shrugged and refocused his attention on his display once more.
"The silence is a meditation aid." Turek added grudgingly.
"You're planning on meditating for the rest of the trip?"
"Indeed. I plan to use the time to contemplate our mission."
Mark opened his mouth as if to speak, then seemed to chance his mind. At that moment, a small warning light blinked yellow on his display screen. Frowning, he called up a series of overlapping schematics and magnified them.
"Is there a problem, Commander?" Turek eyed the warning light suspiciously.
"Not really. It's just the deuterium injector. But I can fix it." he assured the dubious tactical officer.
"We are dropping out of warp."
"Thanks for stating the obvious, Turek. I've got it under control." Mark's fingers were flying across his console as another warning light began to flash.
Craning his neck to read Mark's display, Turek quietly pointed out. "The bipolar flow junction is offline. And the magnetic plasma guides are at 20% capacity."
Before Mark could retort, the small shuttle was completely ejected from subspace, its display screens flashing red and yellow.
After a moment, Turek spoke. "Our mission appears to be over."
"Says who?" Mark demanded, coaxing the shuttle to 1/2 impulse.
"At our current speed, it will take us six days to reach our destination." Turek persisted.
"She's just temperamental. I'll get the warp engines back online."
"Your intent is commendable but unrealistic. I suggest we signal Prometeus with our coordinates and request a retrieval."
"I'll take your suggestion under advisement."Mark said absently, as he began prying open several panels. A faint beep alerted them both to the view screen. Thier runabout vibrated and the space before them seemed to waver briefly as a small shuttle dropped out of warp. It was very similar to thier own; old, battered and well armed.
Mark raised shields as they watched the newcomer circle them. With a nod from Mark, Turek charged weapons and waited for any sign of hostile intent.
"We are being hailed."
"Let's answer, by all means." Mark flipped a switch and peered into a small viewscreen. A rather unattractive Tellarite male peered back at him, his prominant snout dominating much of his face. He wore his reddish grey hair thick and long and Mark noted with obvious distaste that hygiene wasnt one of his virtues.
"Greetings. I am Garn." the Tellarite announced.
"Glad to meet you. I'm Jack Smith and this is my partner, Merek."
"Wait." the Tellarite ordered and his likeness momentarily vanished.
"We are being scanned." Turek remarked.
"That's alright. Let him have a look. Keep weapons at ready." Mark commanded, eyeing thier visitor's ship warily.
Garn's image reappeared. "Your shuttle is damaged. Do you require assistance?"
"I do not believe---" Turek stopped in midsentence at Mark's warning glare.
"Sure. We could always use a helping hand." Mark grinned, ignoring the Vulcan.
Garn nodded, as if he expected the answer. "You have a short in your power transfer conduits. But I've got some spare parts. I could beam over with them." he offered.
Mark readily agreed. "I'll lock onto your coordinates. Smith out."
"I do not believe that was wise. He could be planning to take our ship." Turek warned.
"I doubt it. He would've attacked by now if he meant us harm. Our cargo isn't very impressive anyway. There's nothing here he would want. But get your phaser ready as a precaution."
He pressed several keys and the Tellarite materialized with an armful of metal plates and wiring. He glanced around the shuttle with undisguised curiosity, his gaze settling at last onto the two Starfleet operatives.
"Welcome to our ship, Garn." Mark said pleasantly.
Once Turek felt assured they weren't in immediate danger from the Tellarite, he subtley slipped his phaser back in its holster.
"Your ship is larger than it seems from the outside. An efficient use of space." Garn said grudgingly.
"We like it." Mark rose, and accepted the mass of circuitry, freeing the Tellarite's hands.
"Where did you purchase it?"
Thinking quickly, Mark answered, "From a used shuttle supplier on Ganaris IV. We traded our old ship in after making a good profit selling Arcanian crystals. It was time for an upgrade."
"Arcanian crystals." Garn repeated, obviously impressed. Arcanian crystals were illegal on Federation worlds. "They are difficult to find. How did you manage to smuggle that past customs?"
Mark smiled, but refused to elaborate further. "We have our ways."
Understanding he may have overstepped his bounds, Garn continued on a different vein. "I saw you drop out of warp. You're lucky I noticed or you would have been stranded. The closest inhabited system is two days away."
"And we thank you for stopping to help." Mark said carefully.
"So you are traders." It was more a statement than a question.
"Of a sort."Mark allowed. "Our specialty is exotic and hard to get items. We were heading to Naare when our shuttle gave out."
"Naare? How coincidental! I am a trader as well and the colony is on my regular route. What brings you there?" Garn's question was elicited by more than just curiosity. He wanted to discover whether the newcomers were a threat to his business.
"Oh, this and that. "Mark shrugged as he answered, vaguely, "I heard you could buy all kinds of interesting items there and it peaked our curiosity."
"I might be able to help you." Garn said gruffly, immediately deciding he would feel better if he could keep a closer eye on them. "I know the ins and outs of Naare colony. I'll guide you, introduce you to the local guilds for a share of profit from what you sell." he offered.
Mark made a pretense of considering the Tellarite's offer. After a moment, he nodded. "You've got a deal."
Garn rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Good. Then let's get your warp system back online."
He tilted his head questioningly in Turek's direction. "Your friend doesn't talk much."
"He's shy." Mark said hastily. "Don't mind him."
Garn looked at Turek as if seeking confirmation.
"Yes." the Vulcan said at last, with obvious effort.
"I am....shy." •••••••••••••
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