ftp.ee.pdx.edu/2014.02.ftp.ee.pdx.edu.tar/ftp.ee.pdx.edu/pub/frp/Archives/774

Internet Message Format | 1994-12-07 | 26KB

Path: usenet.ee.pdx.edu!cs.uoregon.edu!reuter.cse.ogi.edu!uwm.edu!cs.utexas.edu!swrinde!pipex!uunet!not-for-mail
From: [e-mail] (james vassilakos)
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.archives
Subject: STORY: ST-PBeM Turn #21: One Down
Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc
Date: 6 Dec 1994 09:03:29 -0500
Organization: UUNET Technologies Inc, Falls Church, VA, USA
Lines: 604
Sender: [e-mail]
Approved: [e-mail]
Message-ID: <3c1qvh$[e-mail]>
NNTP-Posting-Host: rodan.uu.net


*******************************************************************************
                           Star Trek: Play by E-Mail
                              The Forbidden Years
                               Campaign Write-up
===============================================================================
                                 Adventure #2
                              A Matter of Policy
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                   Turn #21
                                   One Down
===============================================================================
              Copyright 1994 Jim Vassilakos / All Rights Reserved
*******************************************************************************


  Cast & Crew
  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
  ST-PBeM GameMaster       Jim Vassilakos      [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. Duran          Tony Hayes          [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. Hawkins        Tony Hayes          [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. tr'Remas       Jeremy Lakatos      [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. de la Sangre   Carlos Jensen       [e-mail]
  Lt. Bellasario           Alan Ward           [e-mail]
  Lt. St. James            John Brengman       [e-mail]
  Lt. T'lar                Ronnie Simonds      [e-mail]
  2nd Lt. Morchainte       Brian Chrisman      [e-mail]


Stardate 6003.27 at 1300 hours: USS Excalibur, Holodeck
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When T'lar finally arrives at the holodeck, she sees the do-not-disturb light
blinking somewhat ominously.

"Computer, who is on the holodeck?"

"........Commodore Ash."

"Computer, please inform the Commodore there is a message labeled 'Assassins'
for him, from Lt. T'lar."

"........Warning, there is no such message on file."

"I'll prepare it when he responds."

"........Warning, there is no such message on file."

"Fine. Just," on the edge of exasperation, "tell him I want to talk to him."

"........Please access communications via the nearest comm-port."

T'lar steps up to one and patches a line from one side of the wall to the
other. "Hello, is anybody in there?"

A moment later, the door opens, and Ash is standing there with a phaser.

T'lar peers at him thoughtfully. "You may wish to know about a possible
assassin after Sarin."

He slumps his shoulders and makes a weak looks of relief. "Not to fear, T'lar.
The trap is laid. Come." He motions her inside. Sarin is sitting in the center
of the room, looking somewhat bewildered. He finally raises his arm to half-
mast, holding his hand toward her. She accepts it and seats herself beside him.
"I have a story to tell you, Sarin."

"With your mind, young one."

She presses her hand to his, reliving the morning's events in what seems like
an instant. No move it made to infiltrate his memories, as before. No tug of
war between truth and secrecy.

"I'm tired of playing games," she finally decides. "I've told you everything I
know. Will you be so kind as to return the favor? Or do you really want to find
out how strong your mental defenses are? At least one person here believes the
good of the entire Federation is at stake. Why? Why do they want to assassinate
you?"

He takes a deep breath, "Because, I suppose, 'they' are afraid. Afraid of me,
and of what I represent."

"The Federation?"

"Of what the Federation stands for. Peace. Peace between all nations, no matter
how sordid their respective histories."

"You're talking in riddles, Sarin."

"Perhaps a riddle is the only way to accurately describe this dilemma. Know
only this, T'lar. That those who oppose me, oppose peace. That is all that
matters."

Suddenly his eyes dart to the side, as a hologram of Captain LeBonk approaches
the semi-transparent door where Parker's image is standing guard.

"I am afraid we are about to be interrupted," he notes, standing and turning
toward the door, his simulacrum in the Ambassadorial Lounge matching him
movement for movement. T'lar watches from the center of the chamber as the
captain says a few words to Parker. He promptly opens the door for her. Sarin,
of course, is ready and waiting, the illusion of omniscience carefully
prepared.

"Captain, I have been expecting you."

She nods, a wary edge of uncertainty betraying itself in her step and
expression. Finally the door closes behind her, and she looks about
uncomfortably.

Sarin smiles, "As you can see, Captain, I am alone. I hope you do not find the
temperature unpleasant."

She gulps down and draws a small pistol from beneath her vest, rapidly
squeezing off several shots at point blank with no appreciable noise. With each
pull of the trigger, another bullet impacts with the simulacrum, sending grey
ooze dripping to the floor. Meanwhile, Sarin's 'bleeding' puppet begins to turn
around in circles and babble incoherently. She stares at it in a state of
disbelief, a look of sudden comprehension crossing her face.

Ash stares also, as the spectacle unfolds. "Computer, where is Captain Lebonk?"

"........Captain Lebonk is on the Bridge."

He grins. "Then who is in the Ambassadorial Lounge."

"........Ambassador Sarin and Crewman Matsalla."

His grin grows wider, "Indeed. Beam Crewman Matsalla to Brig Cell #1." He looks
at T'lar and winks, "This is called the Duran-maneuver."

She fingers the bandage on her lip, "So is this."

"Ahh, but our methods shall not be so obtuse." He taps a comm-port, "Brig, this
is Ash. I'm transporting a guest to your custody. See that this individual does
not... wander."

Somebody on the other end sighs, "Not again."

"What's that?"

"It isn't the princess again, is it?"

"No, why?"

"Well... after the incident with Tsandzia, she ordered me not to participate in
such a thing ever again... at the risk of losing various... ummm... private
portions of my anatomy to extreme electrotherapy."

Ash raises an eyebrow in patented T'lar-like fashion. "Perhaps there is hope
for her after all." When he finally turns back toward the lieutenant, he can't
help but notice the confused look on her face.

"Sir," she begins, "Are we going to let Security know *someone* has just
attempted to kill Sarin?"

"That, fortunately, is not for me to decide." He hits the comm-port again.

"...LeBonk here."

"The trap is sprung, and our suspect is in the brig."

There's a thoughtful pause on the other end, "No security alerts?"

"The assassin used a projectile-based weapon. All behind closed doors. In fact,
for all security knows, your currently talking with the good Ambassador talking
vulcan trivia." He nods politely toward Sarin. "If you wish to inform them..."

"No." It's her ship. Her security staff. And Sarin is her passenger. It's not a
matter of rank but one of jurisdiction. "Tell Sarin to continue to lay low.
I'll go speak with this 'assassin' and find out if it's a one-man show. If not,
it may be better if the assassination appear... successful."

Ash winces, "You go to the brig, and the whole ship will know about it."

"What would you suggest?"

"Well, Lt. T'lar is on hand. And I understand that she has already proven her
value as an interrogator." He winks.

There's another short pause. Then a curt "Okay. But I want a full report as
soon as possible." The line clicks into a dead sea of static a moment later,
leaving Ash stroking his chin whiskers.

"It seems," he finally concludes, "that you have arrived just in the nick of
time."

T'lar turns about, "Before I go, sir, there are a few things I'd like to tell
you about."

"Oh?"

She sighs, "Unfortunately, I can't go into much detail now. I want to
interrogate our attempted assassin first. But a word of caution. Watch out for
Khemsa... or Duran, as he's also calling himself. Tsandzia found a chip in the
dead girl's room... the girl who was, ahem, blown to smithereens... linking him
to SFIC and assigning him to Sarin."

Ash frowns, "Where are you getting your information?"

"Tsandzia... er... Lt. Morchainte, sir."

"Lt. Morchainte. I see." He casts a dark grimace toward the deck. "I suppose
I should have predicted as much."

"Predicted sir?"

"Her inability to keep a secret. Royal blood, indeed. I knew that she disobeyed
my orders about keeping her distance from Duran... but spewing her knowledge
left and right. That's another matter entirely. To correct your 'facts', it was
McReynolds' security team that found the chip. And as for it assigning Duran to
the good Ambassador," he shrugs, "that information is erroneous. On the
contrary, it assigned the 'smithereens' to Duran, for all the good it did him."

"For what purpose?"

"We don't know. According to his own testimony, he's on vacation." Ash
chuckles, "Can you imagine? My God, I was a better liar before I was out of my
diapers. No, he's here to protect Sarin alright. And a fine job of it he's
doing." Ash waives a finger toward the 'bleeding' hologram of Sarin's
simulacrum, which has by now dropped to the floor in a twitching muddled heap
of imitation carcass. "A fine job if I've ever seen one. Are there any other
matters you wish to have cleared up, Lieutenant?"

T'lar murmurs, "Yes, Commodore, a great deal." She's about to bring up her
continuing suspicion that Duran is not a protector, but rather an assassin.
However, before the words can trip off her tongue, she senses a sudden burst of
tension from Sarin, as through the ice upon which she is treading is very thin,
and the sea beneath, very cold and very deep. "However, perhaps it would be
best to wait until later. Before long everyone on board will know we have
another transportee in the brig." She sighs. "I will see you soon, sir...
Ambassador."


Stardate 6003.27 at 1245 hours: USS Excalibur, Bellasario's Quarters
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gunner dozes, watching the starscape outside the window. From the direction his
quarters are facing, there is almost no traffic. Only the occasional drifting
patrol boat. And Tsandzia. Waving at him. Tsandzia!? Waving at him!??

He gets up and stares out the window. There she is, without so much as a vacc
suit. Then, a moment later, she's out of view. He blinks, wondering what sort
of drugs O'Neil is dispensing.

"Heh... stress Gunner." He remembers the vision he had of T'lar trying to run
him down in her shuttle. Oh what a nightmare that had been. "There is no such
thing as flying Calainians who don't wear vacc suits." He opaques the window
just to be safe. "No such thing. Only your imagination."

When he finally opens his eyes again, it's to the sound of a beeping comm unit.
He glares at the clock. 1320. Oh terrific. Not even an hour's sleep. 'Can't
this jar of bolts hang together for even one lousy hour without my constant
supervision?'

He hits a switch. "Gunner here."

"Lieutenant," it's the Captain's voice, "I'd like you to report to the brig
immediately."

"Wha... what's going on?"

"You'll be briefed by Lt. T'lar. Do not make a scene on your way there." The
line goes dead, and with it, Gunner's hope of catching a prolonged nap. He
splashes water on his face and makes a bee-line for the brig. T'lar is already
there, as expected. It looks like the jailkeeper has been keeping her at bay
for a minute or two until Gunner's expected arrival.

"I'm here. What's the big ruckus over? Tsandzia up to her old tricks again?"

T'lar's forehead creases in a slight hint of annoyance. "No, as far as I know
the lieutenant has been perfectly acquiescent for the last several hours. No,
this is a new prisoner. Now that you are here, will you order us a bit of
privacy?"

"Privacy?"

Ensign Nguyen points to the monitor, a worried sound to his voice. "Sir, I
think there's been some sort of mistake."

Clearly visible is a very pissed-off Captain LeBonk, pacing the containment
cell from one wall to the other.

Gunner blinks, "That's impossible. I was just talking to..."

"It's not her. It's an..." T'lar stops herself from saying "assassin"
in front of the Ensign.

"Should I let her out, sir? She was transported on the Commodore's orders. And
this is very odd. According to the computer, she's wearing somebody else's
badge. A Crewman Matsalla's."

Gunner reaches over and switches off the monitor display.

"Sir?"

"Don't tell anybody about this. Understand?"

"But sir..."

"Do you understand?"

Nguyen nods, "Yes... yes sir."

"Good." Gunner nods toward T'lar, "C'mon. Let's find out what's going on."

T'lar raises a semi-sarcastic eyebrow, as if to shout, "That's what I've been
trying to do for the past century!"

"Actually," Gunner begins, once the door has closed behind them, "why don't you
tell me what's going on."

"It seems the *Captain* here has shot a hole in Ambassador Sarin." She turns to
the cell, regarding the occupant impassively. "Would you care to say something
*before* we get started? My current activities are quite time consuming, and I
will have to do this as briefly and directly as possible."

"Lt. Bellasario, let me out at once. T'lar and Sarin are attempting to seize
control of the..."

"It won't work. I know you're not the Captain. I also suspect that you're not
Crewman Matsalla. What, did you have to steal a badge to get on board? Who are
you?"

The prisoner takes a weary breath, slumping back toward the corner of the cell.

T'lar glances back at Gunner. "Sir, permission to perform the meld with... 'the
Captain'? Our time is exceedingly brief." A glance back. "Unless she wishes to
be forthcoming herself? I understand her loyalty to her employers... it will
doubtless make the meld very difficult, but I feel certain I can crack her mind
sufficiently to get what we need."

Of course, there are certain dangers involved, and indiscriminately mind-
melding with suspects is against due process and all that, but Bellasario
doesn't blink when he says, "Good idea."

He presses a button, letting down the forcefield, and fires a burst of stun at
the prisoner. She, naturally, falls to the floor, and just in the nick of time.
She was drawing her pistol, and had it almost out of her vest before falling
unconscious.

"Two bullets left in the magazine," Gunner announces. He proceeds to frisk her,
picking up only a communicator and Matsalla's badge in the process. And an ID
card. Mishmerhag ka Sorath, an Algolian according to the picture. The Algolians
are bald, and they have blue skin. Gunner passes the card to T'lar, regarding
the prisoner again. "Not likely," he finally surmises.

He looks toward where he knows the hidden camera is. "Nguyen, I know you're
watching. Bring me a tricorder, will ya?"

A minute later, Nguyen is there, tricorder in one hand, phaser in the other.

"Thanks," Gunner takes it and hands-off to T'lar. Meanwhile, the prisoner seems
to be coming around.

"Don't try anything funny this time or I may accidentally up the setting. What
have you got, T'lar?"

"Definitely not algolian. Not human either. And here's something odd. There
appears to be subdermal object, metallic... it's embedded in her neck."

"Her neck? Let's take her to sickbay and find out what we're dealing with."

"No, it's imperative that nobody know about her..." T'lar glances toward Ensign
Nguyen, adding, "just yet."

"Why?"

"Commodore's orders."

"You're telling me this piece of puke just shot Ambassador Sarin, and the
Commodore wants to keep it a secret?!"

T'lar sighs, "That's exactly what I'm telling you. If it causes you undue
distress, I officially give you permission to shoot me if, in fact, I am a
member of part of a growing conspiracy concerning Sarin."

Bellasario blinks, gripping his phaser, "Don't tempt me."

Suddenly there's a beeping noise. It appears to be from the prisoner's
communicator. Gunner holds it in his palm, regarding it with an ominous glare.

The prisoner groggily stares up at it, then plops back down to the deck after
a quick pinch to the lower neck. T'lar doesn't waste a second. "Give it to me."

"What are you going to do?"

"Find out who's on the other end. See if you can get a trace."

Gunner knows as well as T'lar that given the Excalibur's facilities, a
communications frequency can be pin-pointed to its source inside of half a
minute. Possibly much less. He nods to Nguyen, and the Ensign sprints down the
corridor.

T'lar then flips open the communicator, saying nothing.

The voice on the other end is not so restrained, however. "Tani, quevayen ako?"

T'lar considers her options for all of two seconds. "zzzt... grrrk..."
Bellasario stares on in disbelief as she continues to spit and hiss into the
communicator. Pillar of logic, indeed! The person on the other end does exactly
what he would do in a similar situation. They hang up.

Nguyen comes back in, shaking his head.

"Not long enough, eh?" Gunner grimaces.

"Not even."

T'lar winces, "I was hoping they'd boost their signal."

"And risk being noticed?" Gunner shakes his head, "Somebody out there is damn
confused. And damn cautious."


Stardate 6003.27 at 1335 hours: USS Excalibur, Tsandzia's Visitor Quarters
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Can I get you some Volucris juice?"

Kris ponders for a moment. "No thanks. I'm not into excretory liquids."

"It's real good," Tsandzia murmurs as she pours herself a glass and sits down
at her terminal. "First business, then pleasure."

   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
   From: 2nd Lt. Morchainte
   To: Lt. Cmdr. tr'Remas
   Re: Borg Artifacts

   I was considering forwarding copies of this message to the
   Captain and Commander Elineva, but I decided that it would be
   smart to send it to you first, and get your comments on this. I
   am not sure that you are aware that several artifacts of Borg
   technology are currently on board the Excalibur. They are
   currently in Engineering, but I am of the opinion that they
   should be in your research facilities instead.

   I would suggest that we transfer this equipment to the science
   labs. Running general tests of what these things do only gets us
   so far. We need concrete details of the physical mechanisms by
   which these objects operate. Currently, we haven't had any
   amazing success in figuring out the wormhole effect, but I think
   that we should first put efforts into understanding the simpler
   phenomena of their technology.

   In essence, I think it'd be easier to figure out a digital watch
   before trying to tackle figuring out a whole computer... which
   becomes much simpler after you've figured out a digital watch.
   Moreover, our science department is vastly better equipped to
   study how these objects work. The engineering department was
   designed to repair/examine things we use currently. They're not
   likely to have the facilities to do in-depth research into alien
   technology.

   -Tsandzia

   /-/-/ Newborn Blobbies in Need of Adoption. Supply Limited! \-\-\
   - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tsandzia looks up at Kris when she's finally finished. "Well, I guess I really
goofed this one. Not my fault, though; I'm a science officer, not a super-duper
intelligence agent."

"Uh-huh... what are you talking about?"

"When I referred to Duran, I meant to say Lt. Khemsa... they appear to be one
and the same. He's from SFIC."

"SFIC? You mean Star Fleet Intelligence Command?"

Tsandzia nods, "Kind of a misnomer, eh? I'm not very certain why he's here,
though it does seem to have something to do with the Ambassador. Unfortunately,
he's either here to protect him, or to kill him it seems, and I don't know
which."

"To kill him?"

"T'lar thinks so. At least, she said that Sarin thinks that he's being
stalked."

"Being stalked?"

Tsandzia leans back, "What were those precise words? Ah. He thinks that
somebody in SFIC has 'been assigned' to him. We don't know why, but apparently
Sarin is fearing the worst. No wonder he's not taking visitors."

Kris stares wide-eyed, "Do you understand what you're saying?!"

"Usually." Tsandzia shrugs, "Another thing is that Duran's cover has been blown
wide open. Again, not my fault, and not even his." Tsandzia pauses, thinking,
"I really don't trust people who aren't what I thought they were... but that's
just my personal experience. Are there any questions you have?"

Kris shakes her head, still dazed by what she's heard, "You've already told me
all you can. If I'm going to find out what's *really* going on, I have to talk
to Sarin himself."

Tsandzia gulps, "Er, I'm not sure that would be incredibly wise."

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm not sure Sarin wants his suspicions getting around... if you know
what I mean."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. We were gonna ask him, but he locked himself up and..."
Tsandzia's mind suddenly takes a left-turn as she begins wondering about her
future in Star Fleet. "Say, do you think hamster-ranching is an economically
viable profession, Kris?"

"Try blobby-ranching. If you can ever get that bugger to reproduce."

"Oh, he has!"

Kris heads for the door, "Uh-huh... look, you can tell me all about it later,
okay? Right now I have to talk with a certain Ambassador."


Stardate 6003.27 at 1355 hours: USS Excalibur, Near the Ambassadorial Suite
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Histlin paces back and forth, staring every now and then down the corridor. No
sign of Tanara. What could be taking her so long? She runs over her orders
again. "If there's a problem, you're the back-up. They'll probably try to move
Sarin to a more secure location. That's when you strike." But so far, they
haven't moved him. His quarters must be protected by a security field, she
thinks to herself. 'That's why my signal couldn't get through.' She thinks
back, again. "If Tani is caught, you can't let them interrogate her. And you
can't attempt a rescue. You have to finish her."

"Tani, what are you doing in there?"

She looks up, bites her lip, winces, then finally takes the plunge, hoping that
the sysadmin isn't keeping careful logs.

"Computer, can you tell me what Crewman Matsalla is doing?"

"........That information is not available."

Of course not. Histlin curses herself for even trying it. Then an idea strikes
her. Maybe the guard overheard something. She walks by again, hoping that she
isn't being too conspicuous. 'No, he's still there. Uh-oh. The other guard is
coming.' Histlin steps off to the side, allowing Lt. St. James to pass by,
unimpeded. She appears to be muttering to herself.

"First Bellasario... now Khemsa... or Duran, or whatever he wants to be called
this hour. What? Is the entire fleet staffed with paper lieutenants?"

She sees Parker as she rounds the corner, not even slowing her pace as she
approaches.

"1357 and all's well," he grins, then notices the scowl on her lips. "Uh...
that is until you showed up. What's the matter?"

"I need to see Sarin."

"Now you know the rules. He's..."

"He's in danger, and if you don't give me the damn key, I'll..."

"Here ya go," he whips it out of his pocket. "You might want to slow down just
a bit, though. The Captain's in there. You don't want to go breaking-up any
high-level talks now."

"Why not? They never did me any good."

Kris steps inside, expecting to see Sarin and LeBonk engaged in a deep and
meaningful conversation, the likes of which she will not know until she is
either a starship Captain, or less likely, an Ambassador. Instead, she sees
only an empty chamber with a door at the far end. It feels like an oven inside,
as though Sarin wanted to slow-bake himself for several hours. Typical for a
Vulcan.

"Not in the main room? Hmm..." She heads toward the 2nd room, finding the door
curiously unlocked. Still no Sarin or the Captain, and that leaves only the
fresher to check. She pokes her head inside, on the off-chance that they're
taking a shower together. It would be one hell of a diplomatic gesture.

'Just like T'lar,' she thinks to herself, wondering if there's some secret
passage out of the area. As she heads back toward the front door to inform
Parker, she finally notices the grey splotches on the floor.

"What the?" She kneels down and gathers up a sample with the tip of her finger.
The substance is slimy and doesn't smell too good. "Something really weird is
going on here."

She suddenly hears the familiar whine of a transport beam and looks around to
see if anybody is materializing beside her. By the time she manages the feat,
however, she finds herself on the inside of the holodeck. Ash is there, phaser
in hand, motioning her to the wall.

"Down on your stomach, arms behind your back, legs crossed, and don't try
anything stupid, because this phaser isn't set on stun."


                      _   /|        Jim Vassilakos
                      \`o_O'        [e-mail]
                        ( )         [e-mail]
                         U          Riverside, California

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------
 This Star Trek PBeM is archived on ftp.cs.pdx.edu in pub/frp/stories/startrek
 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------