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From: [e-mail] (james vassilakos)
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Subject: STORY: ST-PBeM Turn #39 - Genesis Again
Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc
Date: 19 Jun 1995 09:05:58 -0400
Organization: University of California, Riverside (Dept. of CS)
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*******************************************************************************
                           Star Trek: Play by E-Mail
                              The Forbidden Years
                               Campaign Write-up
===============================================================================
                                 Adventure #2
                              A Matter of Policy
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                   Turn #39
                                 Genesis Again
===============================================================================
              Copyright 1994 Jim Vassilakos / All Rights Reserved
*******************************************************************************


  Cast & Crew
  ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
  ST-PBeM GameMaster       Jim Vassilakos      [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]
  Lt. Cmdr. tr'Remas       Dave Shue           [e-mail]
  Dr. Bannister            Jason Stripinis     [e-mail]
  Lt. K'tar                Steve Mays          [e-mail]


Stardate 6003.28 at 1605 Hours: USS Phobos, Captain's Ready Room
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Let's get one thing straight, Mister Duran." Kris glares menacingly at the
Andorian. "If I find out that either you or that Tricani plan on killing Sarin,
there is nothing on this ship that will stop me from killing the both of you.
The way you're talking, it would seem that you think we are beneath you.
Perhaps that feeling extends to the Captain, I don't know. But let me tell you
this... I've worked hard for this rank, and this position... and I'd gladly
sacrifice them both along with my life to protect Sarin."

Duran looks around, from Kris to Tsandzia to Trozena to T'lar. At this point,
he's had fights with each of them. And now he's alone with them in the
Captain's ready room. Kudos to Vince; Satan himself couldn't have devised a
more appropriate Hell. He edges over to where the Captain was sitting and plops
himself down, taking a deep breath and admiring the scenery of the four angry
faces.

"You know, something. We *really* have to stop fighting. We're all on the same
side, after all. You are all just pissed off because I'm following the rules...
because I refused to cave in and tell you everything I know."

"Well," Trozena unfolds his hands, "there was also that bit about me being a
disgrace to the uniform."

Tsandzia seethes, "Duran, you're the only _true_ disgrace I've seen near Star
Fleet in my entire career."

"Talk about a blatant disregard for orders," Kris chimes in.

"Now now, children," T'lar arches an eyebrow, "if anyone has a fair right to be
miffed at our Andorian comrade, I think I do." She rubs her lip knowingly.
"Nonetheless... listening to what he has to say is only... logical."

Duran sighs, "As T'lar knows, I'm not particularly good at apologies,
particularly when I feel my actions were justified. Let's just say that when it
comes to breaking the rules... you four are not ones to talk."

"Don't even," Trozena protests.

But Duran cuts him off, "No, let's not start another verbal deathmatch. Let me
begin again." He sighs. "As I said, we are on the same team. We all want to
ensure Sarin's safety, each in our own way."

"That has yet to be determined," T'lar notes.

"Look, I plan on letting Vince and Oein in on everything I know. It is their
job to decide who else should be told what, not mine. In any case, I feel our
contention in the past arises mostly from the fact that I was keeping secrets
from you, so you felt you couldn't trust me. That is understandable, but I have
no more secrets to keep. I'm tired of fighting with you. Hell, we're so busy
fighting each other, we're not doing our jobs, protecting Sarin. I'm not saying
we need to be friends or that you have to implicitly trust me, but we do have a
job to do, and that job is to protect Sarin. We can do that better if we focus
our combined efforts on that task and not on trying to screw each other over.
I'm not saying it'll be easy; we each seem to have the ability to strike a
nerve in the other. All I'm am saying is that we need to look at the bigger
picture. We need to put Sarin's interests ahead of our personal differences."

Tsandzia yawns, "Does anyone have a shovel?"

T'lar shakes her head, "You need poker lessons _real_ bad."

Kris puts up a hand, "No, let's hear him out. Go ahead, Duran."

Duran grits his teeth at the others but forces himself to smile. "I guess what
I'm saying is that we've all had a bad day. Okay. A very bad day. Who am I
kidding?"

"Getting court-martialed?" Trozena looks at the others. "Yeah, I guess that
would qualify as bad."

"What are you complaining about?" Tsandzia smirks. "You're only charged with
'eavesdropping'. I slip out the word 'Sarin' on the bridge, exposing the two
people who didn't know about him, who probably should have, and Vince wants to
charge me with 'endangering the mission', like I'm guilty of treason of
something." She makes a pouty expression.

"You didn't just slip out Sarin's name. You slipped mine also." Duran says it
without any hint of the rage he feels.

"So what?!"

"So you blew my cover wide open."

"It was already wide open!"

T'lar sighs, "Let's not get into this again. I know how it ends."

Duran bites his lip, "Look, what's past is past. Let's put all that behind us
and try to start fresh... for Sarin's sake. It's either that or we can continue
with this pointless and unproductive bickering."

Tsandzia shakes her head, "What I want to know is how you expect us and all the
other officers on this ship to blindly follow Vince's dismal to non-existent
leadership, not knowing anything of what's going on!"

"That's between _you_ and _him_."

"The guy's a walking sphincter."

"Too bad! He's the Captain. Deal with it."

Kris takes a deep breath, staring back and forth between the two blue people.
'So THAT'S where Smurfs come from!' she thinks to herself.

"Tsandzia has a slight problem with authority," T'lar explains.

"I do not! You think you know everything about me just because you've been a
full lieutenant for longer than I have."

"See?"

Kris sighs, "Perhaps we can work together, Duran, but there should be some
ground rules. First, you should realize that your position as an agent with her
majesty's secret service does not give you the right to run roughshod over
everyone else."

"Kris..."

"No. On this ship, you have a rank and a position, and until that is changed,
you should live within that rank and position. I realize that as an SFIC agent,
you have other concerns to deal with, and as long as they don't include doing
harm to Sarin, I can live with those concerns, but the minute I find out of any
SFIC plot to harm the ambassador, your life is forfeit, along with that of any
other SFIC agent on this ship."

"Don't threaten me, Kris."

"It's not a threat. It's a promise. Remember that if SFIC's mission is as you
say it is, then ship's security can be a useful backup, and if I SEE that
SFIC's mission doesn't conflict with my orders, then Security will back you...
provided that I am still Chief of Security once this whole matter is settled."

"Acceptable. I do want to clear up one thing, however, given your 'promises'.
As an agent of SFIC, I don't get to choose my missions any more than you get to
choose your orders. It's just the same, Kris."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that some orders you like, and some you don't. Some you agree
with; some you don't. It's no different in SFIC. If an agent has a mission you
don't agree with, harming that agent won't help. He's just doing a job and
following orders. Worse, agents seldom have the opportunity to question their
orders. I, for example, have never met my commanding officer, so I've never had
a chance to question any of his orders even had I wanted to."

"What are you trying to say, Duran?"

"Just that SFIC is much like the rest of Star Fleet. It's a big organization
and very secretive. Half the time the right hand has no idea what the left hand
is doing, to use an old Earth saying. I say this because I don't want more
conflicts to arise. Let's try to keep the people and the agency separate.
Agents don't make policy, don't make decisions, don't have any say for the most
part on what the agency does."

Tsandzia groans, "Why do I get the feeling that this speech has 'disclaimer'
written all over it?"

Duran sighs, "The only reason I'm saying all this is that if you want to detain
an agent for security reasons because you believe he is a threat to Sarin, then
I would agree with that. But to harm him in any way because he is doing his job
and following orders that he has no control over would be like me killing
Sorrows because you told him to check on me in the middle of the night."

"Which you just about did," Kris notes.

"I was grumpy. D'ya mind? Besides, he lived through it."

"Barely."

"Look, I'm just sick and tired of all the threats. Let's have realistic and
reasonable responses to security risks. Okay?"

Suddenly the door swishes open, and in walks K'tar who looks more than a bit
perturbed when he sees that half the people he was called to guard are still
armed. He looks at Duran and Kris, "You will surrender your weapons
immediately."

Duran turns, his eyes darkening as he approaches the Klingon. "The last of your
kind who said that to me died begging for his..."

K'tar draws and fires, turning his phaser on Kris even as Duran is dropping to
the floor. Alarms immediately sound, of course, but K'tar barks over them. "You
_will_ surrender your weapon _immediately_."

Kris withdraws her phaser *slowly* and turns it about, tossing it to the
Klingon. "Be warned that I will check with the Captain to be sure this
intrusion was ordered by him. Otherwise you might just be facing assault
charges... with four people as witnesses." K'tar bends down long enough to
retrieve Duran's phaser as well, retreating to a corner of the room a moment
later, thereby allowing Kris to drag the andorian to a free chair.

"Huh?"

"Now see?" She leans the chair back a bit so he won't fall out. "That's what ya
get for using what little brains you andorians have. You should've clobbered
him."

"Clobber him?" His eyes cross and uncross a few times as he hovers in and out
of consciousness.


Stardate 6003.28 at 1610 Hours: USS Phobos, Sarin's Quarters
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I am sorry for the inconveniences you may have had so far on your journey,"
Vince begins, "and for having to lock you up here. You have to understand that
it was all in the interest of saving your life. Now, I wish to help you as much
as I can, but you'll have to work with me. What do you know about this whole
mess?"

Sarin stares back expectantly, "Mess? What has happened?"

"A great deal," Oein replies, "but you must answer our questions. Your life may
depend upon it." He gives Sarin a meaningful look. "What is your involvement
with the SFIC, and why are there SFIC agents on our ship?"

Sarin stares at the Romulan, his expression not so much one of surprise, but
more akin to understanding. "So... it has begun."

"Begun?" Vince queries.

"Treachery upon treachery," Sarin murmurs, turning his back to them.

"What's he talking about, Oein?"

The Romulan frowns, "You mentioned treachery when we last spoke, Ambassador."

"So I did."

"What did you mean by it?"

Sarin leans against the far wall, putting a hand upon it for support. "What
does it matter now? They are here. How many?"

Vince looks at Oein, then back toward Sarin. "We're not sure, but if my guess
is on mark, we just picked up a ship load. They're in the brig, awaiting
interrogation. All except for their captain, that is. He's in sickbay."

Sarin turns about, this time definitely surprised. "Sickbay?"

"It's a long story," Vince has himself a seat, "just as I'm sure yours is. So
if you don't mind, I'd prefer if you kept it brief."

"Why do you fear SFIC, my Kohaeiamus?"

Sarin stares at the two officers, his cheeks flushed a decidedly greenish hue.
"Fear them? I do not _fear_ them. I pity them."

"Pity them?" Vince tries hard not to choke.

"In the words of one of your terran philosophers... they know not what they
do." Sarin paces the length of the small room, stopping finally in front of
Oein. "Nor do you, my friend."

Vince nods, "Ah yes, those words were very popular among various Christian
martyrs as they were being tortured to death. The phrase is rather apt for this
particular situation as well, as unless the Ambassador wishes to end up like
them, he'd better start answering my questions immediately." Vince smiles
politely between gritted teeth. "Ambassador?"

"Ah... of course. It seems that my mission to Rigel is not entirely supported
by all parties in government."

"The SFIC in particular," Vince prompts.

Sarin nods, "SFIC has... shall we say... a rather amoral leadership. They
meddle in the affairs of foreign governments irresponsibly at times. I have
even heard rumors that SFIC agents could be some part of the cause of the
current instability in the Klingon Empire, an instability that, if left
unchecked, could result in desperate consequences here in the Federation."

"War?" Oein queries.

"All I can tell you is that it is my mission to avert war."

Vince nods enthusiastically, "Yes... of course, but what do they hope to
accomplish by... eh... disposing of you? I mean, the transfers will take place
with or without you, will they not?"

"The transfers."

"The technology transfer. Ash told me about it. That is the purpose behind your
mission, isn't it?"

Sarin's face flushes green yet again, "As I said before, it is not wise to
discuss the details. Too much is at stake."

Oein shakes his head, "But we _must_ know more. Surely the SFIC has good
reasons for their actions. What if they are correct in this matter, and your
technology transfer to the Klingon Empire backfires? We would then be the
catalyst for the war instead of bringing peace."

"Yes." Vince nods, "Which is exactly why you must tell us everything. Besides,
if something should happen to you, we have to know what to do. I'm not just
worried about our boys, Sarin. There are Romulans out there too. And who knows
who else? I need to know what to do if something happens."

Sarin shakes his head, "You will know... when it is time." He turns about,
apparently not wishing to continue the discussion. Vince, however, has other
ideas.

"Excuse me a second, I'm not used to these matters, but if they all want you...
eh... out of the way, wouldn't it be much easier to cooperate in... er...
disposing with you? I mean, they are virtually standing in line to have a go at
it."

"Why don't you ask them?"

Vince grins, "I have. I've been talking to Agent Duran. He really wants to meet
with you, by the way. Unfortunately, with this new information," Vince holds up
the isochip, scratching it audibly against his beard, "I'm just not sure that
such a face-to-face would be entirely prudent." He grins.

Sarin turns about at the noise, "What's on that chip?"

"This chip?" Vince makes an innocent face. "Just a conversation between two
SFIC agents. Regarding you, in fact. You know what, Sarin? I think they
actually like you." Vince tries hard to look sincere.

"Is that a fact?"

"Oh... sure." Vince nods. "Well, sort of, anyway. Okay, they hate your vulcan
guts. How should I know? I haven't even had a change to listen to this thing
yet, what with all the fuss and bother of being a Captain."

Sarin looks him over with a bit of disbelief, finally rotating a console to
face them both and extending his hand. "Then let us view it... together."

Vince forks the chip over, watching as Sarin inserts it into the input slot.
Oein, meanwhile, looks rather annoyed, leaning over to whisper a few words of
wisdom. "Captain, we must be convinced of the validity of Sarin's mission and
have a..."

"I know, Oein." Vince smiles as Sarin turns about. "Shop talk," he explains.
"Starship stuff. Frightfully dull. Is that thing on?"

Sarin presses a button, leaning back to listen.

After Duran's conversation with the Tricani is finally finished playing, Oein
gazes at his long-time vulcan friend with a sense of utter disbelief. "Sarin,
judging from what I've heard, you _must_ fear the SFIC, for the Tricani is
sworn to your death! And for that matter so could be Agent Duran! Are we to
believe that the Tricani was sent to kill, and Agent Duran was sent to
protect... both of them from the _same_ organization?"

Sarin looks about as ashen-faced as Oein has ever him, as though locked inside
a trash compactor, waiting for the inevitable doom closing in. "Oein," he
begins, but cannot bring himself to complete the thought.

"What is it, my Kohaeiamus?"

"You can stop calling me that, or anyone else half as undeserving," he mutters
mostly to himself. "I'm," he sighs, "in deep doo-doo. Very deep. So deep that
if you get anywhere near me you're likely to step into it and drown." He looks
mildly ashamed. "Nonetheless, I need your help. Both of you."

"Your right about that, mister, er... Ambassador..." Vince corrects himself,
"...or you'll be as dead as the dodo. You'd better start talking to us here and
now. How _can_ we help you?"

"What about the technology is so damaging to the Federation that the SFIC would
send agents here to kill you?" Oein adds.

Sarin opens his mouth to respond, then closes it again, as though carefully
considering each word. "I assume you are aware of... Project Genesis."

Vince's eyes widen, though just a tad. "What about it?"

Sarin nods grimly, all too aware that even though considerable scientific
progress has been made over the past several decades, most military officers
still view the project more as a weapon than as what it was originally meant
for, to bring life to otherwise sterile planetary bodies.

"I have been charged with the mission of secretly providing the Klingons with
access to Genesis technology."

"That's insane," Vince murmurs, barely under his breath.

"Under who's authority?" Oein queries in as innocent a voice as he can muster.

Sarin stares back at him, "I will not say."

"You won't say?!" Vince bursts out.

"Kohaeiamus," Oein begins, "this is... most unusual."

"Yes. It is most unusual, but nonetheless, that is my purpose here, and it is
why my arrival at Rigel is of the utmost importance."

"I can't believe that giving the Genesis technology to the Klingons will avoid
war!" Oein finally blurts out.

"Why hasn't the SFIC been included on this little plan?" Vince looks gruff.

"Because... they have been fighting the Klingons so long, they don't know how
to look beyond their private war. All they see is the threat that was, not the
possibilities, and challenges, of the future."

"You're telling me they would have disobeyed orders?"

"It's not that simple. Nothing is that simple any longer." Sarin takes a deep
breath.

"And suppose I ask that Tricani his side of the story. What do you suppose he'd
say?"

Oein looks aghast. "Clearly we must keep the Tricani in the brig. But what of
Agent Duran?"

"Now wait a second... I'm not sure I can keep the Tricani in the brig. If he
chooses to come forward and reveal to me his identity, I have no choice but to
follow the rules."

Sarin shakes his head, "Follow the rules, and you will doom us all."

"Sir, the ship was cloaked and following us," Oein reminds Vince. "They took
evasive maneuvers when we discovered them. You have more than enough evidence
to keep them in the brig."

Vince sighs, "I'll do my best, but if he exposes himself as SFIC and starts
demanding compliance..." Vince lets the thought trail off. "Hopefully, he'll
retain his cover for as long as possible. That should at least give us some
time. Besides," he looks at Sarin, "I have a plan regarding that. I think I can
keep you safe and out of their reach."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Well, by some quirk of fate, we have ourselves a Klingon on board."

"K'tar," Sarin states.

"You know him?"

"We've met."

"Well, I was thinking I could just have K'tar debrief this Tricani. After all,
anyone could just walk in here and claim to be SFIC. It should keep him rather
busy and perhaps even prove entertaining."

"Depending on one's definition of entertainment," Sarin intones with a typical
Vulcan deadpan.

"If you are extremely lucky or the Tricani is extremely _stupid_ you might keep
him busy," Oein agrees, "but I don't believe anything short of a heavy stun
will keep Duran out of commission, especially since he no longer has any reason
to protect his identity. We either need to keep him in the brig with the other
SFIC agents, or if we can trust him, he could be part of the solution."

Vince nods, "You had some talks with Duran earlier, Ambassador. He _will_
insist on seeing you again. Do you trust him?"

"Of course not."

Vince nods, somewhat approvingly. "Good. Neither do I."

"But his cooperation may prove vital... and it certainly couldn't hurt."

"Agreed." Vince turns to Oein. "Get Duran down here now. I want this cleared up
as soon as possible. Oh, and get me Hawkins and Bannister while you're at it.
We need to make certain arrangements for the Ambassador's safety." Vince turns
to Sarin with a grin on his face. "So tell me, how did you and the Chameleon
get on?"


Stardate 6003.28 at 1650 Hours: USS Phobos, Captain's Ready Room
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back in the ready room, Oein's voice spills over the intercom. "Lt. K'tar, your
orders to keep everyone in the ready room are completed by order of the
Captain. You are dismissed. Lt. St. James, please escort Agent Duran to Sarin's
quarters on the double. To everyone in the ready room, you are dismissed to
your regular duties. However, if we determine that eavesdropping is being used
to listen in to other people's conversations on this ship, a general court-
martial will be in order. No questions asked."

In the background Vince's voice can be heard. "Yeah, and next time I'll have
K'tar there to teach you all some manners!"

The line closes with an audible click, Tsandzia sticking her tongue out at the
speaker. "I thought a general court-martial was *already* in order."

"Don't complain," T'lar advises. "We're being reprieved, at least from the
sound of it."

"C'mon," Kris helps Duran to his feet, the andorian still a tad groggy from the
effects of the stun.

Meanwhile, K'tar looks rather confused. "Just who is this Agent Duran? And
what's this about _Sarin's_ quarters?"

"I am Duran, or so it seems." Duran replies in his best klingonese. "And man do
I have a headache." He smiles faintly as Kris helps him out of the room.


Stardate 6003.28 at 1650 Hours: USS Phobos, Sarin's Quarters
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sarin paces to the back of the room, "You want to what?"

Vince shrugs, "It just struck me that since we have a chameleon on board, we
might as well take advantage of the situation. I'll need to talk to the Doc and
Hawkins before I can finalize the details, but I think we could arrange a
switch. That is assuming she's willing to cooperate after your little escapade
in the brig."

Oein nods, "Why did you go to the brig and meld with the Chameleon,
Ambassador?"

Sarin stares at him for a long moment, a sign of either loving admiration or
severe annoyance. Oein can't tell which.

"For that, my friend, I have a very logical explanation. My only hope is that
you never have to learn it."

Oein stares back, a confused expression scuttling down his face. Vince,
however, is used to diplomatic evasiveness. "C'mon Oein. We'll be right
outside, Ambassador, until we get the situation secured."

Once they're outside, Oein exiting only with extreme reluctance, they stare at
each other for a short moment. "Your friend seems to be holding back," Vince
finally states.

"Yes, I do not understand it. He was never so unyielding with me before."

"It's not you, Oein. It's me. It's what he said about following the rules. He
doesn't trust Duran. And he doesn't trust me either."

Oein casts the Captain a confused stare, "You've already pledged to get him to
Rigel."

"I know," Vince looks down the corridor, wondering if he can make good on his
promise. "But if the SFIC starts pulling rank..."

"They would kill him. At least the Tricani would. And if what I've heard about
the SFIC is anything close to the truth, he would probably continue with his
current orders till he is either _dead_ or he receives new orders from his
commanding officer."

"I know," Vince states again. "That's why I want to make the switch. It worked
before."

"I don't think they'd fall for the same trick twice."

"It was the Romulans who fell for it before, Oein. Not the SFIC."

Oein considers the idea for a brief moment. "Sir, if I may comment on the
subject of Sarin's security, I think that a general call to the crew is in
order to notify them of our real mission. They deserve that much, sir."

Vince rubs his beard. "I know, the crew has a right to know, but I can't, not
yet. We are reaching a turning-point in the mission, after which there will be
no turning back. I will tell them when we reach it, but not before."

"But sir, I've found that this kind of covert action severely reduces crew
morale... particularly when people start to realize that they're being kept in
the dark. If we are ever to get out of this, we'll need all the crew working
together, sir... as a team."

"I'll think it over, Oein. But my gut level instinct tells me not to say a
word. And my gut instinct is rarely wrong." He looks down the corridor toward
the sound of approaching footsteps. "Dr. Bannister."

"Captain, Commander tr'Remas." He stops before the two, glancing at the door
they're standing beside. "So exactly what is this all about? Another prisoner
fall down?"

"Not exactly," Vince smiles. "How's the Tricani's nose?"

"Admiral P'notto? He's fine. Keeps complaining about lack of sanitation
though."

"Sickbay isn't sanitary?"

"Oh, it is. He just enjoys giving me a hard time. So," he smiles, "what's going
on?"

Hawkins is the next to arrive, a thick gravitic wrench in his hand as though
he's looking for someone to club over the head. "Howdy, Cap'n. Oein. Doc. Would
somebody mind telling me why I'm here?"

"I wanted to let the others know about our little plan," Vince explain.

"Plan?" Jake looks confused.

"I think you're the only one who doesn't know this, Doctor, so I'll just tell
you straight out. Our mission doesn't have anything to do with A/M containment.
We've been ordered to take Sarin to Rigel."

"Sarin? Ambassador Sarin? I heard he was..."

"Dead?" The door opens, and there is standing Sarin. "In the words of one
of your terran novelists, the report of my demise was... rather exaggerated."

Jake looks even more confused, until the quiet is broken by two more pairs of
footsteps, one of them sounding a bit groggy and haphazard. The feet in
question belong to a certain andorian, of course, and as everyone turns to
look, they see him staggering down the hall, leaning on Kris for support who
has her arm tightly wrapped around one of his shoulders. When he realizes that
he's being watched, however, he pulls away, stammering something only vaguely
comprehensible.

"Well it's about time," is the Captain's first comment. "I was wondering when
you two would work out your frustrations. You didn't break anything, did you,
Kris?"

"He's in one piece, sir. Just his brains are rattled."

"Ah, an improvement," Vince grins.

"It was K'tar," Duran explains.

Vince stares at Kris with glowing admiration. "You used the Klingon as back-up?
There's an idea. What... where are your phasers?"

"He took them," Kris says flatly.

"Ah, I get it," Vince nods. "Maybe I should make _him_ the new security chief."

Duran winces, "I'd rather you didn't."

As they enter Sarin's quarters again, Vince swivels the computer terminal
around to face the gang-o'-officers plus the one Vulcan ambassador. "Since all
of you know our true mission, namely getting Sarin to Rigel in one piece, I
only thought it appropriate to share with you the details of our plan. The
first step is to disappear from the sensor scopes of any potential pursuers.
Hawkins had been making preparations to do this even before we were even handed
the cloaking device." He brings up a map of the sector and points at the
display, "We are currently heading for the dead space between these two
systems."

"What about the dead space between your ears?" Tsandzia mutters, listening in
remotely.

"Hawkins here has prepared a decoy, which we will launch as we drop out of
warp, shaking off our potential pursuers."

"A decoy?" Bannister puts on a sour face.

"We're overloading the engines on one of our shuttles. We'll send it out
unmanned," Hawkins explains.

"How long can it last?"

"We figure about an hour. If any cloaked ships are tailing us at medium range,
they'll follow it instead of us when we drop out of warp. That is assuming we
perform the maneuver correctly."

Jake shakes his head, "I've a better idea. Why don't you just use the cloak."

"It'll take too long to install, and there's no guarantee that it'll work on a
vessel of this size and configuration."

"We're going with Plan A," Vince submits. "It's the best shot we've got. Cmdr.
Hawkins, how long until the shuttle is ready?"

"We're just about there, Cap'n."

"This doesn't make since," Jake complains. "They'd just see us when we re-enter
warp space."

Hawkins smiles, "They'll see us, alright. But they won't know it's us. We'll be
disguised as a trader. Or, at that point, we could go ahead and install the
cloak and see if the damn thing even works."

"I see. Yes, it could work. But what I still don't understand is why go to all
this secrecy when the Typhoon could simply have taken Sarin to Rigel as they'd
originally planned."

"Because I'd be dead once I stepped off the ship," Sarin explains.

"The Romulans don't want this conference to happen, Doctor." Vince looks at the
others. "There are even those in our own government who may not approve. Hence,
once we go under cover, the corner will be turned, and there will be no going
back. I'll inform the crew as to the true nature of our mission, but only after
that corner is turned. Until then, they must continue to believe that we are on
our way to Starbase 75."

"That won't be very easy to do," Hawkins states for the record. "There's
already talk about the Iotians and our course change toward Starbase 10."

"Talk?"

Jake chimes in, "Even my nurses are beginning to wonder what's going on, what
with no announcements from the bridge, and after a battle no less."

Vince nods, a grave tone to his voice, "I understand."

"Maybe we should tell them now," Jake proposes. "Not meaning to step on your
authority, sir, but it would cut down on the misinformation, and I don't see
how it could jeopardize our mission."

"The problem is the Tricani and his 'Iotians'. I don't want them even knowing
that Sarin is alive."

Jake nods, "They can't do anything, sir. They're in the brig, except for two of
them. I know they were working for the Romulans, but their part in this is
over."

Vince shakes his head, "If only you knew."

"Sir?"

"I just don't want to take any chances. That's why I've devised a cunning
plan." Vince makes a cunning expression.

"Uh-oh."

"It goes like this. We stage an explosion or a short-circuit in Histlin's
cell... lots of smoke... all the prisoners will see it. Basically, we make it
looks as though she's been hurt... seriously hurt."

"What does this have to do with Sarin?"

"I'm getting to that. At the same time Hawkins is staging this explosion, Oein
will be erecting a sensor suppression field in sickbay. You, doctor, will
arrange for transport of the chameleon to sickbay and provide a sealed
observation room for her. We'll post guards on the outside. Nobody goes in or
out without proper authorization."

Jake nods, beginning to get the idea, "But she dies... at least in theory."

"Exactly. Kris will get Sarin to sickbay unseen, or perhaps we'll get Histlin
out. Shouldn't be too hard. Basically, we switch the two. Sarin goes into
whatever nook or cranny we can best hide him. And Histlin... she becomes Sarin,
at least until it's safe enough for him to come back out into the open.

"The only problem is... will she go along with it?"

Vince looks at Duran, "You have spoken to her, and I think she might trust you.
You are to inform her of what will happen, and convince her to play along. Tell
her we are doing it for her own safety. I will have a talk with her before the
next step of the plan is executed. Do you think you can do it?"

Duran answers, "I will talk with her and see if she will cooperate. As for the
Tricani, he was about to confide in me further. If I can talk with him before
he discovers his cover is blown, he might provide useful information."

Hawkins makes a confused expression, "His cover?"

"What cover?" Jake chimes in.

Duran forces a slight smile as the remainder of the grogginess fades and is
replaced by the classic post-stun-headache! He extends his hand, "Um, I am Lt.
Commander Andron Tarkine Duran. I work for SFIC as does the Tricani. Everyone
else knows, no sense in you two being the only ones who don't. The Tricani
doesn't know everyone knows he's an Agent, however, so if nobody tells him, he
might be willing to tell me more about his mission. If, however, he learns of
the damage to his cover, well, he won't say a word. That's for certain."

"SFIC?" Jake stammers. "I don't understand."

"I was sent to protect Sarin. The Tricani, however, seems to have been sent for
a different purpose altogether."

"Indeed," Sarin affirms. "SFIC is well known for its bureaucratic inefficiency,
but as you humans would say, this one takes the cake."

"I don't believe it," Jake mutters.

"That's why we need to hide Sarin until I can figure out what's going on."
Duran looks at the doctor, then back toward Sarin. "Otherwise, there's no
telling what might happen."

"Fine," Vince steps into the center of the group. "Now that all formal
presentations have been made, lets get back down to business. I don't want the
Tricani to get suspicious. If he were to get knowledge of this plan, all our
efforts would be wasted."

Jake steps back, "But Cmdr. Duran..."

"A point of order," Oein interjects. "We should still refer to Agent Duran as
Lt. Khemsa, and your position, as far as everyone else is concerned, should
remain as Asst. Security Chief. To do otherwise would jeopardize our plans."

Jake nods apologetically, "Lt. Khemsa. What still bugs me is, according to
regulations, shouldn't we be reporting this 'screw-up' to somebody? I mean,
it's be safer for Sarin if..."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Sarin states.

"Why not? I'm sure there's an SFIC office at Starbase 10. They could at least
review the situation."

Vince nods, "I'll consider your suggestion, Doctor. But only after Sarin is
safely stowed away. Until then, we will have to keep up the appearance that
nothing out of the ordinary is going on."

"Aside from us getting into a skirmish with that Tricani ship," Hawkins states
for the record. "Not to mention us breaking course from Starbase 75 and
sticking my engineering staff on a mission to blow up a shuttle. Want me to go
on?"

Vince winces, "No, I believe you've made your point. I'll try to come up with
something to tell them. Hell, I'll tell them what we originally thought: that
the Tricani's ship was Romulan hired, and that we changed course in preparation
to elude pursuit. That ought to stick. Most of it's true anyhow. The only
person we'll have to confide in totally is Histlin."

"Captain," Oein butts-in, "I believe that Lt. St. James could assist Lt. Khemsa
in convincing Histlin to cooperate."

"Yes, sir." Kris on cue. "How soon do ya want it done?"

"Not so fast. We need to get her cooperation. I don't want to come on too
strong or frighten her off by being too aggressive. Let Duran try alone first,
tell her she could strike a deal with Star Fleet, reduced sentence, a pardon or
something..."

"Lie, in other words," Duran translates.

"Whatever it takes. Just get her cooperation."

"Consider it done," Duran heads for the door.


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

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