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From: [e-mail] (james vassilakos)
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Subject: STORY: ST-PBeM Turn #30 - The Third Chameleon
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Date: 17 Apr 1995 10:06:01 -0400
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*******************************************************************************
                           Star Trek: Play by E-Mail
                              The Forbidden Years
                               Campaign Write-up
===============================================================================
                                 Adventure #2
                              A Matter of Policy
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                   Turn #30
                              The Third Chameleon
===============================================================================
              Copyright 1994 Jim Vassilakos / All Rights Reserved
*******************************************************************************


  Cast & Crew
  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
  ST-PBeM GameMaster       Jim Vassilakos      [e-mail]
  Lt. Bellasario           Alan Ward           [e-mail]
  Lt. T'lar                Ronnie Simonds      [e-mail]
  Lt. Morchainte           Brian Chrisman      [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. Duran          Tony Hayes          [e-mail]
  Lt. St. James            John Brengman       [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. de la Sangre   Carlos Jensen       [e-mail]
  Lt. Cmdr. Hawkins        Tony Hayes          [e-mail]
  2nd Lt. Xelha            Dave Shue           [e-mail]
  Dr. Bannister            Jason Stripinis     [e-mail]
  Lt. K'tar                Steve Mays          [e-mail]
  Lt. Soroc                Jeff Ellis          [e-mail]


Stardate 6003.27 at 2115 hours: Albuquerque Station, The Flower Garden
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vince takes a deep breath, wondering when he's last sniffed air so sweet. 'So
Ash has his own flower garden. What will that old codger think of next?' And
flowers there are: red ones, white ones, pink, yellow, and blue, some sorted in
bunches according to their color, others growing haphazard with no organization
save the mystery of nature. When Vince finally spies the old man, he finds
himself strangely amused by the spectacle. The Commodore, a man he's respected
for years, has seated himself on his knees, carefully digging a small hole in
the rich black soil as though a life depended upon its flawless precision. His
steel trowel, brown-handled and rusty, leaps deftly from one hand to the other,
finally resting at his ankle alongside a small flask of green hydroponics
solution, out of which appears to have sprouted a single red rose, waiting
patiently but with keen interest for its new home to be readied for occupation.

Vince scratches his head in puzzlement, not sure what to do. Finally he goes
for the traditional and well-worn approach, snapping to attention, back
straight, chest out.

"Lt. Cmdr. Vincent de la Sangre reporting, sir!"

Ash looks up, mildly startled. "Oh, it's only you, is it?"

"Sir?"

"What with that tone of voice, I thought my dear Martha had risen from the
grave. You're just in time, Commander. Come nearer."

"Uh, aye sir." Vince approaches, watching as Ash sets the rose carefully into
the soil, pouring the solution around it and then filling the hole back up
again.

"She used to love roses. Red ones were her favorite."

Vince remains attentive but silent, not sure how to respond. Finally Ash
struggles to his feet, clapping the dirt from his hands. "I can assume you come
with a purpose in mind?"

"Sir, I thought it best to inform you personally on the progress of our mission
and get your opinion on the plans we have laid." And for the next few minutes,
he does just that, pausing only once to mention the need for additional
security staff.

Ash shakes his head, "How am I to give you more people, yet hide the fact? Any
additions to your crew will be observed, catalogued, and analyzed by the enemy.
Secrecy-wise, we are borderline as it is."

"Yes, I understand that. Just thought it was worth a try. Once we get the old
bird in shape, I will call out other crewmembers to guard Sarin. But otherwise
we have your approval?"

"The plan seems sound enough. I'll go about the standard bureaucratic motions
to facilitate your cover."

"I would like to leave as soon as possible, at 0800 tomorrow morning if
everything works out right. The sooner we leave, the safer the Ambassador will
be. At least now, if they want to take him, they will have to do so outright,
risking a war."

"I doubt very much they even know he lives."

Vince nods, looking about. "Sir, it really is a beautiful flower garden.
Haven't seen anything like it since, well... sense last time I was in a flower
garden. And I don't get to those very often."

Ash smiles, "You should take up gardening, Commander."

"Oh, I can barely keep a goldfish alive."

"Then I hope keeping your crew alive will not be too much trouble."

"I'll certainly do my best sir. Thank you for your time, and I hope we meet
again soon." Vince turns around and strolls out, wondering if he means a word
of it.


Stardate 6003.27 at 2140 hours: USS Excalibur, Random Corridor
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I don't understand it," Histlin shakes her head, "We'd all agreed it would be
put here, somewhere along these ventilation ducts."

"Tricorder shows nothing in there, sir."

"Assuming it has a rovlicon-polymer casing like the others, it might not
register on the tricorder. We may have to physically eyeball it."

"Give me some more light up here, will ya?"

"I'm giving ya as much as I can, unless you want to tear open those ducts."

"Do it."

T'lar watches as protonic-hatchets are applied to the entire surface of the
ceiling, baring open the interior of the airflow corridors. But no rovlicon-
polymer lunchbox drops out.

"I don't understand it," Histlin shakes her head. "We'd agreed."

"Who was in change of placing that one?" Gunner queries.

"Karameth."

"Maybe she decided to skip it when the general quarters alarms went off. High-
tailed it to a transporter and flew the coop."

"On general quarters four?" T'lar asks.

"Who knows? Maybe she grabbed a pressure suit and got out through an airlock.
I'll check the logs and inventory. In the meantime, I want this whole area
checked over in case she found some place more convenient to stow her little
bomb."

Histlin looks at the two vulcans, an expression of worry etched into her
features.

"Maybe we should warn the Phobos," Soroc advises. "If for some reason Karameth
made it to the Phobos, the bomb may be there."

"The Phobos?" Histlin looks confused.

T'lar jabs her Vulcan counterpart in the ribs. "If we can find the rest, will
one bomb really pose that much of a threat?"

"Well, according to my readings, they'll pack nearly the punch of a photon
grenade."

T'lar winces. "Great. Forget I asked." She studies the chameleon for a moment.
"Histlin... I think it's time you told us who the third agent is. Or was, at
least. The more time passes, the greater the danger she will be discovered
anyway, perhaps by..." T'lar steals a quick glance to make sure that Bellasario
is occupied, "...by some fool like Gunner, who thinks this can only be solved
with her death... or the Romulans may decide the mission is a total loss, and
kill her anyway. We need to get that implant removed from her, and we may need
her help to find this last explosive. Will you help us, Histlin? Will you help
Karameth?"

"I'll do what I can, T'lar... but I tell you this. She won't be easy to find."

Gunner steps over, looking annoyed as usual, "Did I hear someone mention my
name?"

"In the most glowing terms possible... considering everything."

Soroc groans silently, realizing that it's up to him to diffuse what may well
become the argument of the century. "So what are our options?" He interjects.
"We may have one bomb that could blow a hole in the hull that we have not
found. It may or may not be on this ship. It's possible that it's on the
station or some other ship, and we have only two hours, six minutes, and
twenty-five seconds to go, roughly speaking. Even if nothing happens in two
hours, we don't know if it's still hidden waiting to go off at some other time.
We could see if the internal sensors can find the bomb or the device in
Karameth's neck, however. If the bomb is still set to go off, it would take
major security sweeps to blindly search every ship and the station for it.

T'lar shoots a glance at Soroc. "That may be the key... the device in her neck.
It may be detectable. Get the doctor to go over the debris left from Histlin's
device with a fine comb and see if it has any distinctive signatures
whatsoever."

Gunner nods, "Consider it done," and heads off down the corridor.

T'lar turns back to the chameleon. "Thank you, Histlin. You've done all you
could for us... and more." T'lar makes a thoughtful expression. "Could you
recognize a chameleon if you were in their presence for a while? Is there
anything distinctive that our races cannot easily detect: an attitude, an odor,
a way of walking or posture? Or something even more subtle?"

Histlin shakes her head. "What you ask is beyond my power, or that of any of my
kind."

T'lar nods, "I feared as much. But we must find her before it's too late."

"We did rent a cabin aboard the Albuquerque, but I doubt that it'll be of any
use to you. She would not be so foolish to return there."

"Nonetheless, it's worth a try. Soroc, go to... wait. Notify security and have
the room placed under surveillance. It is NOT to be entered at this time."

Soroc is just about to say something unique and entertaining when a loud yell
is heard from down the corridor. "What're ya'll doin' to mah ship?!" Hawkins
points toward the ceiling where various ventilation tubes are split and
dangling in a rather obnoxious fashion. Gardner seems to barely notice,
however, his gaze focused on T'lar.

"We're a bit busy right now, gentlemen," T'lar informs the approaching men.
"Unless you want to help find a bomb, we're swamped."

Hawkins cocks his head to one side, "A bomb?"

"The chameleons hid several aboard this ship. Now one seems to be missing."

"Why isn't the ship on alert status? Why wasn't I called? Where are the other
bombs? When are they set to go off?"

"Because it was unnecessary. Ditto. In the armory. And at midnight. Any
other questions?"

Hawkins blinks once or twice, trying to figure out which answer goes with which
question. "Computer, scan the romulan bombs held in the armory."

"........Warning, scanner request unnecessary. Scans of all objects already
on file."

"We already de-sheathed them and ran them through intensive scans," T'lar
explains. "They're cased in a rovlicon hybrid-polymer. Enough of it make them
essentially invisible to both internal sensors and our tricorders."

"Hurmph, if they don't show up on sensors, we're facin' a classic needle in
a haystack."

"True, but there may be a way to narrow the haystack."

She finds herself a PADD and brings up a display of the Excalibur's deckplans,
marking little circles here and there.

"Excuse me, but what are you doing?"

"I'm recording the locations of where we found the other bombs. "We've been
told there's no *intended* pattern... let's look for a subconscious one." She
hits a series of virtual keys, effectively asking the computer to find
correlations between the points she's marked and extrapolate a missing point
based on the data. It comes up with several possible alternatives, but the
factor of variance is high enough to make the entire exercise look like a long-
shot at best. "We should concentrate the search in these places, at least
according to the computer. Let's go."


Stardate 6003.27 at 2150 hours: Albuquerque Station, Surreal Park
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Tsandzia finally finds the Commodore, it's underneath several floating
globules of water shaded green and purple by the surrounding lights. The place
is so dim, she can barely discern his shape from a distance, and if it wasn't
for the candlelight at his table and the security chief at his side, she might
not have noticed him at all. Security chief at his side? Tsandzia pauses,
listening to their conversation as Lt. Cmdr. Lorraine McReynolds, tall, strong,
and from the tone of her voice, more than a little pissed, makes grumpy noises
at the Commodore.

"I don't get it! She disobeyed my direct orders! Now you're going to stick a
pin on her chest and promote her to full Lieutenant?!"

"Ah... well, speak of the devil," Ash gets to his feet. "Lt. Morchainte, I
believe you'd already met my Port Inspector."

"Uh, yes, hello Commander," Tsandzia steps into the light, watching McReynolds
tan eyes glare at her in seething anger. "I suppose this isn't a social call,"
Tsandzia mumbles, "though I wish it were. I guess you want some sort of
explanation."

"I ordered you _not_ to expose your knowledge to Duran," McReynolds practically
hisses, "to simply stay on the fringe and help him if possible, and next thing
I hear, you two are at each others throats, in the friggin' brig of the..."

"Actually," Ash interjects, "those were _my_ orders Tsandzia chose to disobey,
so you needn't feel personally offended, Commander. Thank you for your input,
that will be all."

McReynolds stares at him, "Sir?"

Ash takes a deep breath, then leans over. "You're angry, and you're making a
scene. I'll discuss the outcome of this with you later, but until then, I would
prefer to handle it in private. No disrespect intended." He leans back again,
studying her eyes. "Please, Commander."

She gets up from the table, "Aye sir." Then leaves. Ash meanwhile, produces a
handkerchief from his pocket, which he uses to blot the perspiration from his
brow.

At the sight of McReynolds leaving, Tsandzia launches into a stream of excuses,
veiled apologies, and other miscellaneous babble. "Sir, I wasn't going to tell
him I knew who he really was, but then I realized that I didn't know how deep
this setup went. I got to wondering about the competency of everybody involved.
I mean, why weren't they informing Khemsa that they had discovered him? Then I
realized that the gothmogs and starbase security both knew who Khemsa really
was, and the only person who didn't know about his blown cover was Khemsa
himself."

Ash blinks once or twice, pocketing the handkerchief, and opens his mouth to
interject a few words, only to be run over by Tsandzia's stream of semi-lucid
consciousness.

"What if this whole thing was some cover-up for an even larger game? Maybe
someone was trying to fool starbase security into thinking that Khemsa was a
federation agent, when actually he wasn't. Maybe this was all some big smoke
screen for some other agent?"

"Lieutenant!" Ash withdraws his handkerchief again, blotting an even thicker
coat of perspiration. "I implore you, stay your tongue a moment so that my
brain might catch up. And please... sit down." He motions her to take
McReynolds' chair. When she is finally seated, he withdraws a pin from his
pocket.

"What's this?"

"Your promotion came though from Star Fleet Command. You are now a full
Lieutenant. Congratulations." Though he says "congratulations" with all the
sincerity of a Ferengi salesman, Tsandzia grins from ear-to-ear over her
newfound status, wondering if she knows anybody she can now boss around. Then
she drops the grin, realizing that something is not quite right.

"Isn't there supposed to be a ceremony?"

"I thought it best to dispense with the pomp and circumstance, as I've only
just eaten."

Tsandzia nods, wondering if they'd been planning an banquet for her.

"As for your mistake regarding Khemsa," Ash leans forward slightly, lowering
his voice, "...to be perfectly honest, I don't know what to make of it. On the
one hand, at least according to what reports I've read, you have in the past
behaved with uncommon intelligence, foresight, and creativity, not only
benefiting your crew but saving all their lives as well. Commander Elineva was
very explicit upon this point in her report. And yet, ever since you've boarded
my station, I have to wonder if you haven't left parts of your brain behind in
that alternate universe. Perhaps that creature on your shoulder is siphoning
your intellect even as we speak."

Tsandzia looks at Blobby, then back at Ash. "He wouldn't do that, sir, would
you, Blobby."

Ash sighs, "I don't mean to be insulting, though I'm certain I sound it, but
when I asked you to follow Khemsa, I meant just that. It's not that I don't
want you to think for yourself, Lieutenant. I was counting on it. But to
fabricate some bizarre story without so much as conferring your ideas with
either myself or Commander McReynolds..." Ash shakes his head.

"Well, the entire thing caught me kinda by surprise. All I wanted was to make
sure that he really was an SFIC agent. So I invented a story that he just saw
right through immediately. Truthfully, I'm not sure he isn't half betazoid. It
just happened that he wasn't satisfied with me knowing who he was, so he
decided to have me transported to the brig, where 'everyone' would find out he
was an agent. Go figure. To tell you the truth though, I was seriously doubting
the competency of starbase security, and that's one more reason I did it. If I
were a super-duper secret agent, I would want to know if my cover was blown. I
was hoping that if he really was an agent, he would accept my help in
protecting the ambassador, but I wasn't intending on him knowing that you guys
knew about him... not immediately at least."

Ash nods, "I see. Well, nonetheless, the events are past and the matter moot.
Though I do acknowledge, whatever blame there exists rests on the shoulders of
many, not yours alone, which is precisely why I am less irate than the good
inspector... because I know my own portion which is as great as anyone's." He
stares out, vaguely preoccupied, toward the green and purple lights and the
crowds of people, some floating in the nullfield above. "By the way, I
understand that the Phobos will be departing at 0800. Do you think she's
ready?"

"The Phobos? Ready? Well, I don't know if she's any more ready than she was
when she had a donut for a saucer. But I would say that it's disrepair could be
just as much an advantage..."

Ash interrupts rather abruptly, "According to recent reports, there has been
some instability observed in the Antimatter Containment System. We'll be
sending you back to Starbase 75 to have it looked at."

"Back to SB75? But I thought we were going to be delivering Sarin to..."

Ash cuts in again, "No, his corpse is already aboard a warp shuttle heading
toward the Eridanus Sector. I thought it better to send it away immediately
rather than insult him with the indignity of travelling aboard a dysfunctional
ship like the Phobos. I was thinking of sending the SFIC agent along with
Sarin's corpse as well, since it was his duty to guard Sarin, but I imagine
that Commodore Srikanna may have some use for him. Cleaning latrines and such."

Tsandzia stares at Ash with a blank look on her face, not exactly sure what's
going on. Then Ash suddenly gets up from the table. "Actually, if you have some
spare time, Lieutenant, there is a particular scientific oddity I'd like to ask
you about. Please follow me."

When they're finally in a corridor adjacent to the park, Ash stops and
withdraws his communicator. "No. Do not approach her. Under no circumstances."

"But sir, it's a chameleon. I've already got a positive ID."

"I already heard you over my sub-derm. You are to do nothing for now but watch
and follow." He closes the channel and looks toward Tsandzia with a wide-eyed
grin. "I can't believe it. It worked."

"What worked?"

"Hold a meeting in a public place... bait for a spy. Only according to LeBonk,
this one may be carrying a bomb. We must approach with care." He hits a comm-
port. "Call the Excalibur and inform them that we have number three. If that
chameleon of their's is still on friendly terms, I want it beamed here
immediately with the liaison team."


Stardate 6003.27 at 2210 hours: Albuquerque Station, Outside Surreal Park
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zix heads down the corridor, stepping around packs of slow-goers as he follows
the chameleon. "Looks like she's making for the starboard lifts, sir. Can we at
least seal off the area?"

"Is she carrying a box?" his earphones answer back.

"Black, rectangular..."

"How is she holding it?"

"Like a purse, Commodore. Wait a minute, she turned around." Zix keeps walking,
trying not to look directly at her as he passes. Then he steps up to a
comm-port and pretends to make a call, jabbering away as she passes directly in
back of him.

"Zix, what's happening?"

"She got lost for a minute, but I think she figured out where she is." He steps
up the pace, ducking to the side as she glances over her shoulder.

"Don't let her out of sight. Reinforcements are on the way."

"Uh huh. What's in the box, Commodore?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

Zix quickly rounds a corner, cutting the channel. "I was afraid he was going
say something like that." When he looks up again, however, the chameleon is
directly in front of him, her eyes glinting as she takes aim.

"Oh sh..."

T'lar and Soroc hear the screams first and break into a solid sprint, O'Neil,
Tsandzia, and Histlin trailing a few seconds behind.

"She went in the turbolift," somebody points. Other people stand around Zix who
has seated himself on the floor, his hands over his stomach which is gushing
blood. "Oh God! Oh God!!"

T'lar comes to a screeching halt, "Soroc! Tsand! Stay with this man. And
someone deactivate this turbolift!" She strides to the turboshaft doors and
ends up peeling back a maintenance panel more by brute strength than anything
else.

Hawkins reaches inside and yanks out a sizable cable, causing all sorts of
beeping noises as the turboshaft fills with air. "That'll stop it."

T'lar glances over her shoulder again, "Histlin... how fast can you change
form?  How much range do you have? Could she slip out of a small opening, or
will she have to open up the emergency hatch like everyone else?"

"We are not shapechangers, T'lar. Merely chameleons."

"I'll take that as a maybe." T'lar quickly finishes with the overrides, pulling
down the emergency lever and opening the doors manually. As expected, the
turboshaft is the epitome of zero-gravity, none of the surrounding fields
bleeding into the shaft like they always do on the Phobos. T'lar glances
inside, trying to figure out where the lift went. From the looks of things,
it's parked about eight stories up.

"Transporter room 3! Lock on life signs in turbolift 13 NOW, and transport
directly to the brig!"

"Uh... who is this? Identify yourself."

T'lar jumps up and down, letting loose an emotional upheaval which is surely a
disgrace to every Vulcan in the immediate vicinity, namely Soroc. "Just do it,
damnit!"

"This is Ash," the Commodore's voice breaks through, "do as she asks."

"Uh... sorry sir. We aren't scanning any lifeforms in 13, at least, not
anymore."

T'lar grumbles, realizing that Karameth must of gotten out the top-hatch.

"I can beam you into the turbolift if you like, ma'am."

Hawkins interjects, "Do ya know which deck the lift is sittin' at? Or, if it's
between decks, which it's nearest to?"

"Uh... theta moors, just below the thirteen three junction. Looks like she's on
theta-one. Shall I request a seal-off?"

"I'll handle it," the Commodore's voice cuts across the line. "Lt. T'lar, I am
sending a security squad to back you up. But keep in mind, if she detonates
that bomb of hers, it'll blast right through the outer hull."

"Worse than that, Commodore," Hawkins cuts in. "Those small traders docked
inside for repairs will probably have their A/M bottles ripped open by such a
blast. It'll be a chain reaction."

"Oh my God."

"We'd better move fast," T'lar glances toward Histlin. "Are you willing to come
with and try to calm her down? If the first thing she sees is someone she
recognizes as a friend, she may at least not blow us up right away."

Histlin nods, "I'm with you whether you want me or not."

"Good. Let's go."

T'lar, Hawkins, and Histlin float up to Theta-1, entering the turbolift through
the bottom hatch and finding the top hatch wide open. On the floor of the lift
itself is some sort of video camera with a directional mike and headphones.
This is probably how Ash's man spotted her in the first place. No doubt, she
must have ditched the equipment for fear of being spotted in her new form,
whatever it is. Just as T'lar climbs through the top-hatch, she sees a
grungy-looking long-hair grinning down at her from the turboshaft accessway.

"What'sa'matter? Lift outta pep?"

T'lar peers upwards, "You might say that. Have you seen anyone else leaving
this turboshaft?"

"Uh... yeah," he looks back over his shoulder. "She said somethin' about
havin' to take a leak." He grins again.

T'lar finds her communicator, "Commodore, do we have the shutoffs on theta
yet?"

"Still in progress. In order to shut off theta, we have to shut off the entire
ring. Security should be arriving to do that even as we speak."

She quietly begins fiddling her tricorder, taking readings of suspect #1.

"He's clean."

"I am?"

"Not literally."

"Can't we shoot it anyways?" Hawkins whispers.

"You want to do the paperwork?"

He shakes his head, then stares up at the unshaven "dude" overhead. "Which way
did she go?"

He waves an errant hand toward the docking bay, murmuring, "Just over there,"
like it's no big deal. Then he gets a curious grin on his face, before his head
pivots from view. "Aw... lady, you'd be needing the combo to get in there."

Hawkins leaps up to the doorway, phaser ready, as the chameleon scrambles for
cover from the top of a starship's hull. The chamber, as expected, is somewhat
immense, being five-stories deep and twice as wide. Orange walkways cling to
the walls providing direct access to various robotic arms and other equipment.
And at the center, of course, is the cargoship, parts of it spread about
on the floor some sixty feet below like a corpse, disemboweled. Hawkins
leaps forward, hoping to take a clean shot, but in a split instant decides
against it, imagining that he'd just miss and piss her off, or worse, hit the
little black box she's carrying. No telling what would happen then. "Damn!" He
watches, powerless, as Karameth scurries across the starship's roof, kneeling
down at the far edge and preparing to scale its opposite side.

Instead of taking a ladder down to the top of the hull, where he'd be forced to
follow her step for step, handhold for handhold, and probably end up either
getting shot or plummeting to his gory death, he decides to do the intelligent
thing and bolts around the orange steel walkway to the opposite side of the
bay, hoping to plug her as she descends. Unfortunately, by the time he gets in
position, her feet are disappearing up a hatchway just between the landing
columns.

"Christ!"

The longhair runs up, "Hey, man, what's going on?"

"We're chasing an armed criminal, and you idiots left your ventral hatch wide
open."

"Aw no... you mean she..."

"Got inside." Hawkins gathers up his courage and takes a leap for the topside
of the hull, hoping his legs are strong enough to carry him over the couple
meters of empty drop between ship and the wall. Meanwhile, the long-haired guy
pulls out a communicator, "Uh... Katie... no need for alarm or anything but I
think you got an intruder onboard." As the guy's talking, several security
troopers are heading in from a side corridor, Soroc among them.

"I asked you to stay back," T'lar reminds him.

"Ash's man is going to be okay. Where's the chameleon?"

"In there," she points toward the cargoship.

The chief guard takes this as his queue and approaches the long-haired guy
who's now growing mildly frantic. "Katie? Katie!?"

"Is this your vessel?"

"Naw, man. My ol' lady has the pinkies." He grabs the walkie-talkie a little
tighter. "Katie?! Katie, you listening to me?! Look, I don't want to raise
a fuss if you're playing it cool, but there's somebody in there, okay?!"

The head grunt grabs his communicator, "Miss, we have the ship surrounded and
will be boarding momentarily. The situation is under control." He switches it
off and begins barking orders to his men who are descending the ladder in a
tight column to the top of the ship's hull. Suddenly, however, a plasma turret
pops up from a few meters from Hawkins and begins firing blasts or white hot
death at the security people. The lucky ones dive immediately and belly-flop
off the hull. Others are caught in the blast, limbs burning, bones splintering,
falling end over end to their ignoble deaths. The ladder, meanwhile, is quite
seriously slagged.

"Oh shit!" The longhair grabs his walkie-talkie back from the chief guard.
"Katie! Dis the power! We're being hosed with the canon up here!"

The firing stops a moment later, the distinct smell of burnt meat hanging about
the area like a rotten fog.

"Oh, perfect. Just, perfect." T'lar takes a running leap, gritting her teeth
as she hits the ship's roof a moment later. Soroc, meanwhile, is right behind
her, almost sending her over the edge when he lands. "This will not look good
on my record," she mutters under her breath. The local long-hair is the last
to attempt the daring leap, certain that if three people made it okay, it
couldn't be all that dangerous. He ends up slipping in some grunt-blood as he
lands, however, and has the distinct pleasure of face-planting his over-sized
shnoz into the hull. Hawkins winces. Nonetheless, the guy gets up, tromps over,
blood now dripping down his chin, and keys open the dorsal airlock.

"You could have just told us the combination," T'lar observes.

"Katie said never to give it to anyone."

At that precise moment, the plasma gun comes back to life, for all of about
half a second as Hawkins blasts it with his phaser.

"Nice shot."

"I was expectin' her to tap into auxiliary. Let's go."

They head inside, looking for trouble (and for some idea as to where to go to
find it). Someone hits the PA and with a worried voice shouts, "Katie!!!"
There's no answer, however, and he takes enough pause for an "Oh shit," before
hightailing it toward the engine room, T'lar, Soroc and Hawkins firmly on his
heels. Karameth is there with Katie in a corner, gun drawn and black box
sitting right next to the A/M containment cell, her chameleonoid finger on the
button.

"Stop or I'll blow us all to hell!"

Everyone comes skidding to an abrupt halt.

"Whoa there, jus' relax. No need ta do anything rash. No one is gonna harm ya,
so take it easy." Hawkins makes a show of holstering his phaser.

"No, put it on the deck and kick it over here. You too, Vulcan." She glances
from Soroc to T'lar. "Both of you."

"Okay. It's okay. Look the mission ya was on is over. The ambassador is dead.
There's no need for any more deaths."

"There will be more deaths unless you do exactly as I say." She glances toward
the long-haired guy, "You... tell me who's the pilot of this craft."

"You're lookin' at him."

"Take us out of port. Tell Albuquerque that if they interfere, I'll blow this
ship to pieces and everyone on it."

He looks toward T'lar and Hawkins for confirmation, and a nod between them is
all the two can manage. In a way, it's well within their interests, for once
outside the station, her little black box can no longer do quite so much
damage.

Hawkins continues, "Look from what I heard there's a miniature version of that
there box in your neck. The Romulans have already triggered the other two. It's
only a matter of time before they trigger yours too."

"What are you babbling about, human?"

"The suicide device in your neck... we can remove it. All ya have ta do is
cooperate. I know ya don't believe me, but we got your buddy here and ya can
ask her for yourself, okay? Just give her a chance to say her piece." Hawk
looks toward T'lar, "Git that other one up here so she can talk to her... now!"

"I'm here," Histlin answers not more than a few meters behind Hawkins.

"Histlin?!"

"They speak the truth, Kara. Defeat means death. The Romulans weren't joking."

"But we succeeded."

"We were caught. Now we are less than useless to them, and they would kill us
for the sake of appearances."

Karameth's finger hovers over the button, obviously torn between ending it all
and giving up.

"Look, I'm not in security," Hawkins breaks in, "so I haven't had any of that
fancy negotiations classes. I don't know how ta talk to ya other than ta jus'
tell ya the truth. I don't wanna see no one else git hurt today... least of all
me," he tries to grin. "I gave ya my phaser... you still got yours. Do me a
favor an' jus' take yer hand off the switch, okay? Ya got a gun an' ya got me
covered, I jus' don't want no accidents. Okay?" A bead of sweat runs down his
cheek.

Karameth considers for a moment and then kicks his gun over to Histlin, "Pick
it up."

"What are you doing, Kara?"

"We're getting out of here. Pick up the damn phaser."

Histlin does, not exactly sure what she's supposed to do with it. A moment
later, there's a slight lurch and outside the portholes, the grand expanse of
starry space comes into view.

"We're free of the station," comes longhair's voice over the PA.

She motions Histlin over, "Put your finger on this switch, and don't let go of
it for even a second."

Histlin shakes her head, "This is stupid, Kara. The Romulans will just kill us.
They already tried to kill me."

"They're only afraid of us being interrogated, you fool. Did you honestly think
they would let us be captured? With what we know??"

She steps away from the bomb and hits a comm-port, "Pilot, are the Romulans
still in scanner range?"

"Aye."

"Go there. I want to see them out the starboard porthole."

"Uh... fine. I hope you don't mind the wait."

"What?"

"We don't have any warp."

"How long at impulse?"

"Oh... about eight hours."

Karameth groans, "Of all the ships to steal, I had to pick this piece of space
garbage. Okay, set up a subspace two-way. Tell them that it's Stinger-1, and
patch it through to this channel."

"We ain't got no omegaon transceiver on this boat. You're looking at a transit
delay of... about twenty seconds."

"I'll live with it. Just do it."

Tsandzia slides against the wall, thankful that she's not trapped in
engineering with the rest of them. The chameleon doesn't even know she's
aboard. Nobody does. She begins making toward the bridge, finding the long-
haired guy inside, setting up the channel as ordered.

"No, call Albuquerque. They can beam you aboard."

"Who the heck are you?"

"Lt. Tsandzia arul Morchainte. Full Lieutenant," she emphasizes. "We have to
get you out of here."

"Huh? No way lady. I'm not ditchin' Katie."

"Katie? Your ship?"

"My fiance! She's was poundin' on the engines when this all started."

"I see. Are there any other hostages beside her?"

"Just the cavalry." He means Hawkins, T'lar, and Soroc. As for Histlin, it's
difficult to know whether she's also a hostage or whether she just switched
sides again.

"Histlin..." Hawkins pleads, "I'm beggin' ya... jus' take yer finger off that
button. I don't wanna git killed when one of the engines on this junk heap
hiccups!"

"Don't listen to him," Karameth warns. "His plotting something."

"Kara, he's trying to save lives."

Hawk leans against the wall, "I don't think Kara understands that the Romulans
are probably still gonna kill her. If she would jus' cooperate with us, we
could protect her. At this point, if y'all wanna go back ta the Rommies,
that'll be fine by me, can't ya jus' let me off?"

"I'll let you off," Kara states. "Right out an airlock unless you shut your
trap." She hits the comm-port again, "Do we have that channel yet?"

"Sure as hell do. In twenty seconds, they'll hear everything we're saying."

"Good. I want any return messages broadcast over the PA. Commander Selarius,
Stringer-1 reporting. Mission accomplished." She pauses for a moment, then
finally takes out the iso-chip that used to be in her camera. "I can't send you
these images, but from voice analysis, you should be able to recognize one of
the parties as Commodore Ash. She finds a computer terminal and slides the chip
in place, playing the conversation she'd recorded between Tsandzia and Ash at
the fastest speed allowed by the machine. "I'd recorded that conversation just
a few minutes ago, and managed to avoid capture. Unfortunately, this ship which
I hijacked doesn't have warp capability. I request retrieval for myself and for
Histlin. Please, Commander. We have performed all that has been asked of us."

Tsandzia comes marching in about half a minute later, sliding her phaser across
the floor before it even becomes an issue (not that she needs it anyway).

"So what are you planning to do? Get us all killed at once? Do you seriously
think the Romulans want to pick up the 'known' assassins of Sarin? Are you
crazy?"

"She's right, Kara," Histlin chimes in, "we have to get you behind a forcefield
before it's too la..." Histlin's mouth drops open as her friend's neck
splatters open. Fortunately, her hand doesn't twitch enough to accidentally
throw the switch.

Hawkins wipes the sweat off his forehead. Tsandzia stares. T'lar stares. Soroc
does his nails. And Histlin... well... what else is there to say? "You fucking
Romulan basards!!!!!!"


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

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