The Man with the Chrome Implant - SecretAgentMan (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

The familiar walls of Starfleet headquarters faded into view around Agent Samanthan Rutherford as the transporter cycle completed. Ensign Fletcher was manning the transporter console, as he’d expected.

“Lieutenant,” Fletcher greeted him as he stepped off the transporter pad.

Rutherford technically held the rank of lieutenant junior grade, but ranks didn’t matter as much for intelligence agents as they did for the rest of the fleet. That was a fact that most officers in other divisions didn’t understand, and Rutherford had long since given up trying to explain it.

“Ensign,” he nodded as he passed Fletcher on his way to the door.

“Hey, you’re in intel, right?” Fletcher asked hopefully, causing Rutherford to pause and turn his attention back to the ensign. “There’ve been a lot of admirals coming through here today, and I heard something big is going on. Can you fill me in?”

“I just got here,” Rutherford pointed out. “I don’t know any more than you do.”

Rutherford heard the door to his right swoosh open as Fletcher narrowed his eyes. “Oh, sure you don’t,” the ensign said sarcastically. “As usual, nobody wants to tell us lowly ensigns what’s happening.”

Rutherford was spared from replying by the person who’d just walked in.

“No, Fletcher,” Ensign Bradward Boimler corrected flatly. “Nobody wants to tell you what’s happening because you can’t keep your mouth shut about anything.”

An indignant look appeared on Fletcher’s face, but Boimler turned his attention to Rutherford and continued speaking before Fletcher could say anything.

“B wants to see you right away,” Boimler informed him. “I’ve got orders to take you straight to him.”

Most people knew very little about B, the enigmatic director of Starfleet Intelligence, beyond the fact that he was a three-pip admiral with grey hair who liked to smoke cigars. Rutherford, however, was not most people. When Rutherford’s parents had died in a shuttle accident, leaving him an orphan at the age of seven, then-Lieutenant Les Buenamigo had taken Rutherford in and given him a home. Now, almost twenty years later, B was like a father to Rutherford and was the closest thing to family that Rutherford had left.

Rutherford fell into step beside Boimler as they exited the transporter room and began making their way through the building. He was tempted to ask Boimler why B had abruptly curtailed his vacation and called him back to headquarters. Boimler was B’s assistant and would undoubtedly know the answer. But they were still in a public area and Boimler was a stickler for protocol, so Rutherford opted for a different topic of conversation.

“Any word on that transfer?” he asked as the two of them stepped into a turbolift.

Rutherford had gotten to know Boimler after Boimler had been assigned as B’s assistant. Boimler had gotten a series of Earth-bound postings after graduating from the Academy, and Rutherford knew the other man desperately wanted to be captain of a ship someday. The last time they’d seen each other, Boimler had mentioned that he’d put in a request to be transferred. Rutherford was hoping it had been approved, even though it would mean that B would end up with a new and probably less meticulous assistant.

“Intel division,” Boimler ordered the computer as the doors to the turbolift slid shut. The computer bleeped in response and the turbolift started moving.

Then Boimler turned to Rutherford with a glum look on his face. “They denied it. Again. And the promotion that B put me in for isn’t looking too good either.”

“I don’t get it,” Rutherford replied, feeling frustrated on his friend’s behalf. “You’re, like, the model Starfleet officer! What reason could they possibly have for shooting down your promotion?!”

Boimler sighed dejectedly. “I don’t know either. I’ve tried everything I can think of to get them to notice me! But nothing seems to work.”

“Well, hang in there,” Rutherford said encouragingly. “It might take a while, but you’ll get to that captain’s chair.”

The words didn’t improve Boimler’s mood. “Yeah, that’s what everyone keeps telling me. It’s getting hard to believe though.”

The turbolift arrived at its destination and the pair stepped out of it. They crossed the corridor to the door that led into B’s office. Even though the door was currently closed, they could already hear raised voices on the other side. The door slid open at their approach and the shouting became infinitely louder.

“Seriously?! You’re just going to sit here and do nothing?!”

A furious Beckett Mariner was standing in front of B’s desk. B himself was standing on the other side, and he briefly glanced at Rutherford and Boimler as the door slid shut behind them. If Mariner had heard the pair enter, she gave no indication.

B returned his attention to Mariner. “I’m not doing nothing,” he calmly but firmly replied. “I’m launching a full investigation—”

“Yeah?” Mariner sharply cut him off. “Well I want in.”

“Absolutely not,” B replied in a tone that made clear that no amount of arguing would change his mind. “You’re way too close to this. Rutherford will handle it.”

“This is bullsh*t!” Mariner irately exclaimed.

“That outburst just proves my point,” B countered. “You need to go somewhere and cool off. When you’ve gotten your head on straight, then we can talk about how you can help.”

“f*ck you,” Mariner spat. Then she turned on her heel and stormed out. She didn’t even seem to notice Rutherford and Boimler as she blew past them.

The door slid shut behind her and a wide-eyed Rutherford turned his attention back to B. “Yikes. I’ve seen Mariner angry before, but never like that. What the hell is going on?!”

B sighed and his shoulders slumped slightly before he replied. “Twelve hours ago, we lost contact with the USS Cerritos. They were on their way to Deep Space Five as part of a routine resupply mission.”

B moved around his desk and strode over to a wall-mounted screen. He started tapping buttons as he continued speaking. “When they missed their scheduled check-in, DS5 dispatched a runabout to their last known coordinates. When the runabout arrived, this is what they found.”

B finished tapping buttons and the screen changed to show a massive debris field floating in open space. Rutherford sucked in a breath.

“The wreckage is consistent with a California-class ship,” B continued. “The runabout detected no lifesigns, and no escape pods. As far as we can tell, the entire crew was killed.”

sh*t. So that’s why Mariner was so pissed. I know she and her mom didn’t get along that well, but still… you always think you’re going to have time to sort that out later. Right up until you don’t.

“Any chance this was caused by some sort of malfunction?” Rutherford asked.

“It’s not likely,” Boimler responded solemnly. “Based on the debris pattern, we think the crew was attempting evasive maneuvers when the ship was destroyed.”

“So they were attacked,” Rutherford inferred. “But by who?”

“That’s why you’re here,” B replied. “It’s going to be your job to figure that out.”

B turned back to the screen and tapped a few more buttons. The screen changed again, this time to show the Cerritos’s flight path and the location where the wreckage was found.

“As you can see,” B continued. “Their flight path skirted along the edge of our border with the Orion Consortium. The runabout found energy signatures in the wreckage that could be consistent with Consortium weapons, but the analysis came back inconclusive.”

Rutherford’s eyebrows furrowed as he processed that information. “Wouldn’t be the first time that Consortium pirates raided one of their neighbors. Usually, they’re not stupid enough to raid us though.”

Piracy and slavery had begun falling out of favor in the Consortium in recent years. Partly because the Consortium had been seeking to improve relations with the other major powers in the quadrant, and partly because younger orions disapproved of such practices more than the older generations did. But despite those factors, piracy and slavery were still big industries in the Consortium, and Consortium ships still frequently raided less powerful, politically unaligned planets throughout the quadrant.

Rutherford continued his train of thought by seeking more information. “What are the Orions saying about this?”

“They’ve denied responsibility,” Boimler replied. “Using the same boilerplate wording they always use after a pirate attack.”

“Sounds like an open and shut case then,” Rutherford opined.

“Command agrees with you,” B acknowledged. “But I’m not so sure. I received a back-channel communique from a low-level Inquisitor, insisting that the Consortium had nothing to do with this.”

The Emerald Inquisition was the Consortium’s version of Starfleet Intelligence, with a mandate to protect the Consortium from all threats – foreign or domestic. Within Consortium space, Inquisitors had nearly unlimited authority, and outside Consortium space, they had tacit permission from the Empress to take whatever actions they deemed necessary to defend the Consortium. As a result, Inquisitors were legendary for their direct and often brutal approach to problem-solving. But they were few in number. Anyone who sought to join their ranks was carefully vetted to ensure their absolute loyalty to the ruling monarchy, and most aspirants didn’t make the cut.

“Hmm.” Rutherford’s eyebrows furrowed again. “That is odd. You trust the source?”

“More than I’d trust any other Inquisitor,” B replied. “I worked with her on a few missions, back in my field operative days. We’ve kept a back channel open for years, in case of something exactly like this, and she’s never lied to me before.”

“She could be lying now,” Rutherford pointed out. “They know that once word gets out about the attack, there’s going to be just enough publicly available information to make the Consortium look guilty, even if it’s all circ*mstantial. People are going to be demanding a retaliatory response, and if the President doesn’t give them one, it’ll make us look weak. Your contact in the Inquisition might just be trying to throw us off track or buy time for them to frame someone else.”

“Maybe,” B agreed. “But my gut tells me there’s something bigger going on. If the Consortium really didn’t destroy the Cerritos, and we retaliate against them, they’ll see that as an escalation and respond with an escalation of their own. Either way, things could get out of control very quickly. If we’re going to take that risk, we need to be sure they did this.”

“Hence why you want me to investigate,” Rutherford summarized. “How much time do I have?”

“Not much,” B replied grimly. “A few days at most. I’ll try to stall for as long as I can, but you need to work quickly and quietly.”

“Do we have any leads?” Rutherford asked. “Other than the wreckage.”

“Just one,” B replied. “And it’s another reason why I don’t think the Consortium did this. They’ve offered to give us sensor data collected by their listening posts along the border at the time of the attack… and to send one of their operatives to join our investigation.”

“Our investigation?” Rutherford repeated, co*cking an eyebrow. “Not a joint investigation?”

“Yes,” B confirmed. “They’re being unusually conciliatory. They haven’t demanded any control over the investigation, and they’re willing to give us the sensor data even if we don’t accept their operative. They say she’ll defer to your judgement, and that she’ll fully cooperate with investigating any leads that take you into Consortium space.”

Hmm. That is a pretty generous offer. Doesn’t mean it’s real though. The sensor data could just be a distraction, and the operative could just be there to stop me from poking around anything they don’t want me to see… but knowing where they don’t want me to look would still be valuable information, and it’s not like I have any promising leads for them to sabotage. And if B is right, and the Consortium really didn’t do this, that operative could be a big help.

“Tell them I’ll accept both offers,” Rutherford decided. “Where do I meet this operative of theirs?”

“Bajor,” B replied.

Bajor was a strategically-located crossroads, sitting in between the Federation, the Consortium, the Klingon Empire, and the Cardassian Union. A decade earlier, after the Cardassian military had become too weak to maintain their occupation of Bajor and pulled out their troops, the Federation had offered to make Bajor a protectorate. But the Bajorans – wanting to focus on rebuilding their world and wary of being dragged into any conflict where they would undoubtedly be the first target – had refused.

Instead, they’d invited all four powers to a summit on Bajor, which had culminated in the signing of a treaty. Under the terms of the treaty, the Bajorans pledged to remain politically neutral, and agreed that they would never host any foreign militaries on their soil. In exchange, the Bajorans were permitted to maintain a modest fleet to patrol and defend their territory, and the major powers all agreed to come to Bajor’s defense if Bajor were ever attacked in the future.

Most people were skeptical that the Cardassians or the Consortium would actually honor their obligations if one of the other powers broke the treaty. But everyone knew the Federation was too principled and the Klingons too honorable to hang the Bajorans out to dry, so the treaty had nonetheless been good enough to keep the peace.

As a result, Bajor had become a popular location for both official and clandestine meetings between the major powers. But the fact that Bajor was a good meeting place in most cases didn’t mean it was a good meeting place in this case.

“That’s a problem,” Rutherford pointed out. “The clock’s ticking and Bajor is too far away. I won’t even have time to rendezvous with their operative before the shooting starts.”

B smiled slightly. “Head up to Starbase One and talk to L. She has some new equipment for you that will solve that problem. I think you’ll be impressed.”

“Understood,” Rutherford replied. He turned to leave, but B’s voice interrupted him.

“Oh, and Rutherford?” B’s face had softened and held a hint of worry. “Be careful.”

Rutherford nodded slightly. “I will.”

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

L was waiting for Rutherford the moment he walked through the doors into L Branch – the part of Starfleet Intelligence responsible for designing and manufacturing any special equipment that an intelligence agent might need in the field. Rutherford and his fellow operatives often had access to newly developed technology that was years ahead of anything the rest of the fleet had, and that fact had saved his life a few times by surprising an enemy with something they’d never seen before.

The current L was new to her job, having taken the position a year earlier after the previous L retired. She was a young vulcan woman who kept her short, black hair in place with a simple headband. Rutherford knew little about her, other than a rumor that she’d been kicked out of the Vulcan Science Fleet for being “recklessly emotional.” He wasn’t sure where that rumor had come from. As far as he could tell, she was just as stoic as any other vulcan he’d ever met.

“Agent Rutherford,” L greeted him in her typically emotionless tone.

“L,” he nodded in reply. “B says you’ve got something that’ll get me to Bajor faster than usual.”

“Yes,” she confirmed flatly, though he detected the tiniest hint of annoyance in her voice. “Follow me.”

She turned and led him through a maze of corridors to a cargo door, which didn’t automatically open at their approach. L paused at the entrance and tapped a few buttons on a control panel, undoubtedly inputting a security code to grant them access. When she finished, the computer gave an affirmative bleep and the door slid open. The pair proceeded inside onto a metal catwalk and the door closed behind them. The catwalk was the only thing in the room that was lit. But as they stepped forwards towards the catwalk’s railing, Rutherford could hear their footsteps echoing, indicating that the catwalk was a small part of a much larger space.

“Computer, standard illumination levels,” L ordered.

The computer bleeped affirmatively and started turning on the lights in the rest of the room. Someone – presumably not L herself – had programmed the lights to activate row by row in a timed sequence. The effect created a slow, dramatic reveal of the fact that they were standing on a catwalk above a hangar bay that was occupied by two shiny new ships.

“These are the USS Dusan Popov and the USS Lise de Baissac,” L explained. “The first two vessels in the new Kolbe class.”

The design of the ships was both familiar and foreign to Rutherford. It was clearly an evolution of the Venture-class scout ships that field agents were typically assigned. But the overall size was larger, closer to that of a Danube-class runabout.

“They are not yet fully completed,” L continued as she turned towards a metal staircase that led down to the bay below. “However, in light of the present crisis, I concurred with B’s decision to launch the Popov ahead of schedule.”

Rutherford followed L down the staircase. “So what’s different about this new class?”

L paused next to a hatch on the side of the ship near the front, then tapped a button to open it. Rutherford followed her into the ship’s co*ckpit. The layout was similar to the design that Voyager’s crew had created for the Delta Flyer, with three rows of forward-facing consoles. But this co*ckpit was wider, and there were two consoles side-by-side at the front.

L came to a stop next to the pilot’s console. “It contains several improvements over the previous design. Most notably: a prototype quantum slipstream drive with a maximum velocity of three hundred lightyears per hour.”

Rutherford’s eyebrows shot up. “Slipstream? I thought we were still years away from a viable prototype!”

“For larger vessels, we have not yet been able to create a deflector configuration that would allow for stable slipstream travel,” L explained. “Designs for smaller vessels such as the Popov proved to be less challenging.”

“And I get to be the first to fly it?” Rutherford asked excitedly. Then his tone became apprehensive. “It’s, uh, not going to turn me into a salamander, right?”

L’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The engine has already undergone extensive testing, both with and without organic pilots. I assure you that it will not alter your DNA in any way.”

“Oh. Well, I guess that’s a relief.” It was indeed relieving to know that he wasn’t at risk of having uncontrolled genetic mutations, but disappointing to know that other people had already flown the ship.

L twisted slightly to face the pilot’s console and tapped a few buttons. Rutherford’s implant popped up a prompt asking whether he wanted to accept an external connection. His eyebrows shot up again.

“A direct neural interface?! That’s awesome!” he exclaimed as he enabled the connection. The prompt was replaced by a schematic of the ship and a summary of its primary systems status.

He immediately noticed that some of the tactical systems weren’t fully operational, and his eyebrows furrowed. “I see what you mean about the ship not being finished. No torpedo launchers, phasers only at fifty percent…”

“The launchers and the remaining power couplings are scheduled to be installed on Thursday,” L informed him.

She walked past him towards the rear of the ship to continue the tour, and he followed while still flipping through menus in the ship’s neural interface. The pair passed through the co*ckpit entrance into a narrow corridor with doors to their left and right, and a third door at the end.

L tapped the button to open the door on the left. “A repair bay and armory, with all of the usual equipment,” she explained unnecessarily. Rutherford quickly eyeballed it, spotting two wall-mounted racks containing various types of weapons, a pair of lockers containing EVA suits, several tool chests that no doubt contained a variety of maintenance equipment, and a workbench where those tools could be conveniently used.

L moved on to the next room on the right. This time, when the door slid open, it revealed a small, empty room with the usual duranium grey walls and carpeted floor. There was a replicator built into one wall, and another door on the far side of the room. Rutherford co*cked an eyebrow as he brought up the ship’s schematics again using his implant.

“These are supposed to be the living quarters,” he noted. “Where’s the furniture? Ooh! Did you finally make a cloaking device? Is the furniture cloaked?!”

Predictably, L gave him an unamused look. “The Vulcan Science Directorate has determined that cloaking is impossible.”

Rutherford suppressed a snicker. This wasn’t the first time he’d joked about building a cloaking device, and she’d given him that answer every time. The Vulcan Science Directorate had a point: the Federation, the Klingons, the Orions, and even the Cardassians had all attempted to build a cloaking device at one point or another, and all of those attempts had failed spectacularly. Most scientists now believed that there were simply too many obstacles to overcome to make a ship truly undetectable.

Oblivious to his thoughts, L continued speaking. “The furniture arrives on Thursday.”

She turned and proceeded to the final door, at the rear of the ship. It slid open and they stepped through into a small medical bay. Once again, Rutherford eyeballed it, and it seemed to have everything a field agent might need, with one glaring exception.

“Looks well stocked,” he commented. “But no biobed. Let me guess: Thursday?”

L arched an eyebrow at him and her lips curved into the tiniest smirk. “Correct. I suggest you avoid any situations that may result in serious injury.”

Almost every situation that Rutherford got into had the possibility of resulting in serious injury. That was an occupational hazard for a field agent. He realized that L was taking revenge for his cloaking comment.

Huh. Maybe there is something to that “recklessly emotional” rumor…

“Anything else I need to know?” he asked.

“Yes,” L replied. The smirk disappeared and her eyes narrowed slightly. “I expect you to return the Popov undamaged and without any… personal modifications.”

I was wondering if she’d notice the changes I made to my last ship.

Rutherford arched an eyebrow. “What, you didn’t like the tweak I made to the intermix chamber?”

“Your ‘tweak’ shortened the lifespan of the plasma injectors substantially,” L replied flatly.

“Yeah, but it increased the top speed by zero point two percent!”

L’s only response was to stare at him unblinkingly.

He sighed. “Fine, I won’t touch the engines. Can’t make any promises about the ‘undamaged’ part though. You know how these things can go.”

“I suppose that is adequate,” L grudgingly agreed. “I have already cleared the Popov for departure. You may proceed when ready.”

With that, she turned and left, disembarking the shuttle through the co*ckpit hatch they’d entered through. Rutherford, meanwhile, made his way to the helm.

Alright! Let’s see what this baby can do…

An hour later, Rutherford arrived at the outdoor café on Bajor where he was scheduled to meet the Consortium agent. He’d changed out of his Starfleet uniform into a less conspicuous button-down shirt and khakis, clothing that was perfect for the beautiful day that Tozhat province was having. The temperature sat at a comfortable twenty-four degrees Celsius, and there was nary a cloud in the sky. A light breeze ruffled his hair as he approached the bartender and asked for a mug of deka tea. The bartender returned with his beverage a few moments later, and he slid a credit chit across the bar in exchange before making his way over to an empty table.

He sat there for a few minutes, sipping his tea and enjoying the view of the lush, grassy hills, before he heard a familiar voice off to his right.

“Baby bear! I thought you were supposed to be on vacation!”

Rutherford looked over and smiled as Shaxs approached and sat down at the table. Rutherford had met the gruff Bajoran militia officer a few years earlier during his first visit to Bajor. He and Shaxs had worked together to take down a Cardassian spy ring and had become good friends in the process. He’d later returned to Bajor for several other assignments and had frequently enlisted Shaxs’s help. Today, Shaxs was wearing his brown militia uniform, meaning that he was probably on duty and wouldn’t be able to stay long, but Rutherford was happy to see him nonetheless.

“I was on vacation,” Rutherford replied. “Until they called me in.”

Shaxs’s demeanor immediately shifted, becoming more serious. “Hmm. So what brings you to Bajor?”

Shaxs took his job very seriously, and Rutherford knew the other man was wondering whether the reason had any implications for Bajoran security.

“Just meeting a contact from the Consortium,” Rutherford explained. “I won’t be here long.”

Shaxs relaxed, satisfied with Rutherford’s answer. Rutherford paused for a moment to take a sip of tea before he continued speaking.

“So, blow up any warp cores lately?” he asked with a smile.

Shaxs sighed wistfully. “There was… an incident a few months ago where I suggested it. But Nerys insisted that once was enough.”

Rutherford chuckled. “And how is Major Kira these days?”

“It’s Colonel Kira now, actually,” Shaxs informed him. His tone became much harder and his eyes narrowed as he looked up into the sky. “They put her in command of that tacky fascist Cardassian eyesore.”

It wasn’t possible to see Sito Station in orbit during broad daylight, but Rutherford knew that was what Shaxs was looking for. The space station formerly known as Terok Nor had been repurposed to defend bajorans instead of oppressing them, and later renamed in honor of the talented young diplomat who had negotiated the neutrality treaty.

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” Rutherford asked jokingly, and Shaxs brought his gaze back down to Rutherford. “I mean, fascist Cardassian eyesore? Sure. But tacky? I think your people have done a great job redecorating the place!”

The comment elicited a chuckle from Shaxs, who opened his mouth to reply, but then stopped and turned his head slightly. “Looks like your contact is here.”

Rutherford twisted his neck to look in the same direction as Shaxs, and spotted an attractive young orion woman entering the café. She was wearing a nondescript top with a simple leather jacket and a pair of form-fitting pants. Despite the casual clothing, or maybe because of it, she turned plenty of heads as she made her way to the bar. Curiously, her short, green hair was styled into an undercut. It was an unusual choice for an Inquisitor. They tended to prefer the long, flowing hairstyles that were traditional among orion women.

To anyone else, she no doubt looked like a typical vacationer. But the way her eyes had scanned the café – looking for potential threats and exit routes – led Rutherford to agree with Shaxs’s assessment of her.

Rutherford sighed. He would’ve liked to spend more time talking with Shaxs, but duty called. “Guess I’d better get going.”

Shaxs nodded as both of them stood up. “Good luck. And stay safe out there.”

“You too.”

The two parted ways and Rutherford headed towards the bar, where the orion woman had taken a seat. As he approached, he dialed up the sensitivity of his implant’s audio receptors, allowing him to overhear the conversation between the orion and the bartender.

“I’ll have a glass of kava juice please,” the orion politely requested.

The bartender promptly pulled out a glass and a fancy-looking bottle.

“Freshly squeezed earlier today!” the bartender crowed as he poured the juice into the glass. “It’s on the house.”

Rutherford’s eyebrows raised slightly. It was an open secret that high-ranking Inquisitors received a genetic therapy to increase the potency of their pheromones. The enhanced pheromones were effective against most species and genders, and subverted the target more quickly with fewer side effects. Still, Rutherford was surprised by the bartender’s statement.

Do her pheromones really work that fast? Or is the bartender just that much of a pushover?

The orion sighed. “No, it’s fine,” she said wearily. “I’ll pay the going rate.”

She pushed a credit chit across the bar, which the bartender accepted before moving on to other customers.

Huh. Turning down a free drink. Never expected to see an Inquisitor do that. She even seems kind of annoyed by the idea.

Rutherford approached the orion on her right and casually leaned on the bar, but refrained from looking directly at her.

“I’ve heard that you should never order an orion hurricane unless the bar has real delaq,” he spoke.

It was an innocuous sentence. Any bystanders who overheard it would no doubt think he was just making casual conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the orion’s head turn to face him, and he did the same. She looked into his eyes as she delivered the countersign.

“You shouldn’t, but you can get delaq anywhere if you know who to ask.”

Having now verified that she was the contact he was waiting for, he held out his hand.

“Sam Rutherford,” he introduced himself.

She smiled, then clasped his hand and shook it firmly.

“D’Vana Idari.”

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Rutherford and Idari said little to each other as they left the café, since they were still in a public area where they might be overheard. That changed the moment the two of them rematerialized inside the Popov’s co*ckpit.

“First things first,” Rutherford began in a firm voice. “This is the Popov. While you’re on board, you don’t do anything or touch anything unless I say so.”

He wasn’t thrilled about having a foreign spy on board a prototype ship. He was even less thrilled about revealing the existence of the slipstream drive to her, but that was unavoidable given the circ*mstances. She knew where Bajor was, and where the debris field that used to be the Cerritos was. Basic math dictated that their travel time would be much shorter than any warp drive would allow.

“You’re the boss!” Idari cheerfully affirmed with a smile.

“Second, where’s that sensor data?”

“Right here!” Idari’s voice remained chipper as she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out an isolinear chip.

Rutherford took the chip and stepped over to a console, where he slotted it in and tapped a few buttons to begin downloading the data. Behind him, Idari slowly turned in a circle as she looked around the co*ckpit.

“So this is what the new Kolbe class looks like!” she commented in the same enthusiastic tone. “It’s bigger than I thought it would be!”

Her words caught his attention and he turned around to face her with an eyebrow arched suspiciously, which she immediately noticed.

“Oh, yeah, we already know about the new design,” she informed him with another smile. “And about the slipstream engine! So, no need to try and hide that!”

Her joyful attitude only deepened his suspicion. “You’re being very open about that,” he noted, trying to figure out what her angle was. He brought up his implant’s biometric analyzer and started taking readings.

“My superiors authorized me to tell you as a way of building trust,” she explained.

The only way the Consortium could know about the Kolbe class or the slipstream drive was if they had a well-placed source somewhere in Starfleet, and Rutherford used the Popov’s neural interface to send a brief message to B and L to inform them of the leak. The fact that the Consortium was willing to risk exposing such an important asset in order to gain Rutherford’s trust spoke volumes about the current situation.

Idari’s smile dimmed and her voice became serious as she continued speaking. “Look, I know you don’t have any reason to believe what I say, but… I want to assure you that the Consortium had nothing to do with the destruction of your ship.”

Her biometrics so far showed no indications that she was lying, but Rutherford had to be sure.

“The Cerritos was destroyed less than a lightyear from the border,” he countered evenly as he crossed his arms. “And it wasn’t an accident. This whole incident has all the hallmarks of a typical Consortium pirate raid.”

“I know,” Idari admitted. “That’s why I’m here. If it was a raid, then whoever did it was operating independently, without my government’s approval. There’s a standing decree from the Empress herself that Federation territory is strictly off limits. If someone broke that decree, I want to find them just as much as you do.”

Her biometrics still showed none of the telltale signs of dishonesty. Rutherford decided to test her one last time.

“If someone from the Consortium is behind this, my government will want everyone involved to be extradited so they can face trial in a Federation court.”

Idari looked him straight in the eye and spoke in an earnest tone when she answered. “I’ll deliver them to you personally.”

Concluding that either she was telling the truth or was the best liar he’d ever met, he uncrossed his arms and adopted a friendlier tone as he turned towards the pilot’s console.

“Then let’s get moving,” he said as he sat down in his chair. He gestured to the co-pilot’s seat on his right. “You can sit, if you want. It’ll only take us a few minutes to get where we’re going.”

She moved over and sat down. “Where are we going?”

“The Cerritos wreckage,” he replied as he tapped buttons to set their course. “I’m hoping we’ll be able to find the main computer and retrieve the last sensor readings they took.”

He finished tapping buttons and the Popov jumped to slipstream, prompting an awed gasp from his orion companion. He looked over to find that she was leaning forwards in her seat with eyes wide and mouth agape, trying to get a better view of the slipstream corridor around them.

“Wow,” she breathed. “This is amazing! My people have been trying to build a faster-than-warp engine for decades and we’ve never even come close! I can’t believe how smooth the corridor is. How did you get the phase variance so low?!”

Rutherford’s eyes narrowed as his earlier suspicion returned. He had no idea how L had solved the phase variance problem, but he knew it was the biggest hurdle to building a slipstream drive. So even if he had known the answer, he would never tell someone from a rival government what it was. Which was something that Idari surely knew, and yet she was asking him anyway.

“Trying to use your pheromones on me already?” he asked guardedly.

Her head snapped around to him as a slightly panicked look appeared on her face. “What? No! No, I know that your implant makes you immune to those. I was just curious!”

She returned her attention to the view outside and continued speaking in a highly enthusiastic voice. “I mean, think about all the places you could go! You could explore the whole galaxy with an engine like this! Meet all kinds of new people, see all kinds of things that nobody has ever seen before!”

Her biometrics still indicated that she was being truthful, and Rutherford relaxed, but he couldn’t help but be confused by her behavior. He’d never met an Inquisitor who was passionate about anything other than enforcing the Empress’s decrees.

“You seem… really into exploration,” he commented, arching his eyebrow.

“I served on a science ship for a while,” she explained animatedly. “Got to study a whole bunch of pulsars up close!”

Then she sighed and her eyes dropped to the console in front of her. When she continued speaking, her voice was wistful and a little sad. “I would’ve kept doing that kind of thing forever if I could’ve.”

Rutherford’s eyebrow crept higher. “Then why’d you join the Inquisition? I mean, that’s about as far away from science as you can get.”

Idari tensed up imperceptibly, and Rutherford realized that she’d gotten distracted and accidentally revealed more about herself than she’d intended to.

“It’s a… family tradition,” she replied, putting a carefully neutral expression on her face as she swiveled her chair to face him. “Almost all of the women in my family have been Inquisitors, going all the way back to the founding of the Consortium. My mother expected me to follow in her footsteps.”

She cleared her throat before she continued speaking. “So, uh, what happens if we can’t find the Cerritos’s computer? Do you have any other leads?”

She’d been careful about her choice of wording when answering his question, and now she was trying to change the subject. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that there was something she didn’t want to talk about. But his implant’s biometric monitor continued to show that everything she had said was the truth. Since the topic had no bearing on their mission, he decided not to press her for details and instead answered her question.

“Not really,” he said flatly. “The Popov’s computer is still analyzing the sensor data you gave me. We might find something in that. And maybe we could try doing more analysis of the energy signatures in the debris. But both of those are long shots.”

Idari took a moment to digest his response before she spoke, this time in a quiet tone. “If we don’t find anything, what are you going to tell your superiors?”

“The truth,” he replied evenly. “That I didn’t find any evidence to confirm or refute the idea that the Consortium attacked the Cerritos.”

They both knew what that meant. The admirals at Starfleet Command would follow through on their initial assessment that the Consortium was guilty. The President would order a retaliatory strike. The Consortium would probably respond with an escalation of their own. And unless cooler heads prevailed, the Federation and the Consortium would be at war within days.

I really hope it doesn’t come to that.

Idari looked at him with a determined look on her face. “Then I guess we’d better find something.”

Good to know we’re on the same page.

Rutherford’s console bleeped at him. “We’re almost at the wreckage,” he said. “Slowing to impulse.”

After he tapped a few buttons, the slipstream corridor ahead of them dissipated and was replaced by a debris field. The wreckage was densely clustered, and most pieces were small, but there were several large parts of the saucer section that looked mostly intact.

“Scanning for the main computer now,” Rutherford said, fingers flying across his console. A few seconds passed while he waited for the results. “Found it! Looks intact. It’s too big to beam on board though, and there’s no atmosphere in that section. We’ll need the EVA suits.”

“There’s another problem,” Idari noted as she looked at the scan results. “The ionization levels of the debris are too high to use the transporter at all. We’ll have to get to it the old-fashioned way.”

“Good catch,” Rutherford replied. “I’ll fly us in. Can you go prep the EVA suits? They’re in the back of the ship. Door on the left.”

Idari stood and did as he asked while he slowly and carefully piloted the Popov through the debris field, bringing the ship to a stop near one of the large saucer chunks. The two of them donned their suits and grabbed toolkits, then vented the Popov’s co*ckpit and opened the hatch. After a few bursts from the maneuvering jets built into their suits, they landed on the jagged edge of a corridor on the inside of the Cerritos, which was now unpowered and exposed to space. They engaged their mag boots and turned on their helmet lights, giving them a view of the darkened hallway.

The first thing their lights revealed was a dead officer wearing a yellow uniform, speared through the chest and pinned to the deck by another piece of debris. Rutherford used his implant to scan the man’s face and run the image through the Popov’s database, which confirmed the man’s identity as Lieutenant Winger Bingston Junior.

“How many people were on this ship?” Idari quietly asked.

“Four hundred twelve,” Rutherford replied, equally quietly.

They slowly made their way through the pitch-black interior of the ship, frequently stopping to force doors open and passing many other dead crewmembers as they got closer to the computer core. Eventually, they arrived at their destination: a room containing a duranium grey cube. The cube was three meters on each side and had six power relays feeding into it. Rutherford knelt beside the core and placed his toolkit on the ground.

“So how do we extract the memory banks?” Idari asked.

“We don’t,” Rutherford explained as he opened the toolkit and pulled out a plasma torch. “We’re just going to power them up, link them to the Popov’s computer, and download what we need.”

“Wouldn’t we need a lot of power for that?” Idari sounded surprised by his answer.

Rutherford activated the plasma torch and began cutting open one of the power relays. “We would if we wanted to power up the whole computer, but the memory banks by themselves don’t use much. The portable power packs in our toolkits should be enough.”

Having sliced off relay’s casing, Rutherford deactivated the torch and exchanged it for a hyperspanner. “We just have to cut open the EPS relays and isolate the memory banks on their own circuit, then splice in the power packs. Here, I’ll show you how to do it. This’ll go faster if we divvy up the work.”

She knelt beside him and watched attentively as he showed her how to perform the procedure he’d just described. Then they swapped roles, and he watched while she repeated the procedure on the second relay. After he verified that she’d done it correctly, they worked independently on the four that remained. When they finished, he tapped a button on the side of the cube, and a handful of blinking lights sprang to life. He pulled out a tricorder and tapped some more buttons.

“Download initiated,” he informed her. “We’ll have to wait a few minutes for it to finish.”

“I have to say,” she began. “You know a lot more about engineering than I expected for an intel agent.”

“Engineering is a hobby of mine,” he explained, then paused for a moment as he debated how much to reveal about himself. He didn’t see any harm in giving her a few details, and it seemed fair since she’d told him a little about herself earlier. “I was actually on the engineering track for my first two years at the Academy. Really liked it too.”

She asked the obvious follow-up question. “So then how did you end up as a field agent?”

He sighed. “That war with the Klingons broke out towards the end of my sophom*ore year. Starfleet suddenly needed a lot more covert operatives, and they thought I’d be a good candidate, so they asked me to switch tracks.”

“And you agreed,” she surmised. “Because it was what your people needed.”

Her voice had a strange tone to it, and he was tempted to ask a follow-up question of his own. But before he could open his mouth, his implant popped up an alert from the Popov showing that two new sensor contacts had just been detected.

“Oh crap,” he said, his demeanor and tone shifting back into professional mode. “We’ve got company! Two ships just dropped out of warp. One is circling around the debris field. The other’s heading straight for us!”

“Any idea who they are?” she asked, with an equally business-like tone.

A moment passed as the Popov identified the ship type and showed him the schematic. The ships were yridian fighters – a single pilot vessel that was slightly larger than the Federation’s own Peregrine class.

“Yridian mercenaries,” he informed her. “Their shields are up and they’re charging weapons. We need to move!”

The two of them turned and sprinted out of the room, leaving behind the toolkits they’d brought.

“What about the sensor data?” she asked tensely. “Did we get everything?”

“It’s still downloading,” he replied as they raced through the dark corridors back to their entry point. “But the yridians will be on top of us before it finishes. We’ll just have to hope we got what we needed!”

A minute later, they arrived back where they’d started and leapt across the gap through the Popov’s open hatch into the co*ckpit.

“Computer, seal the hatch and restore atmosphere,” he ordered as they dashed forward and took their seats at the front of the ship.

The computer bleeped affirmatively and Rutherford’s fingers flew across the console as he powered up the half-finished tactical systems. Idari, sitting on his right, wasn’t idle either.

“There’s no way we can form a stable warp bubble while we’re surrounded by all this debris,” she said, examining a sensor scan. “What about the slipstream drive?”

The computer bleeped again. “Atmosphere restoration complete.”

Both of them pulled off their EVA helmets and tossed them aside while Rutherford answered Idari’s question. “Same problem. We’re going to have to fight our way out.”

He powered up the impulse engines. The Popov shot forward and began dodging and weaving through the debris at high impulse. Behind them, a torpedo launched by one of the mercenaries slammed into the saucer chunk they’d just left, obliterating it.

“So, uh, have you ever done something like this before?” Idari asked nervously as he narrowly avoided a chunk of hull plating.

“You could say that,” he answered without looking at her, instead focusing on flying the ship. “I have a racing ship I like to tinker on in my spare time. Came in second in the last Devron Race. Would’ve come in first if that bastard Livik hadn’t been cheating.”

A phaser blast from their pursuer shook the ship.

“I can’t fly and shoot at the same time,” Rutherford continued. “Not with all this debris around. Take tactical and start firing back.”

Idari wasted no time obeying. Her fingers flew across her console, then paused as a puzzled expression appeared on her face. “Wha…? Why are the phasers only at fifty percent? And we don’t have any torpedoes?!”

Rutherford banked the ship to avoid another piece of hull plating. “We had to launch early. The tactical systems were supposed to be finished on Thursday.”

With that explained, Idari began tapping buttons again. Rutherford heard her fire several shots before his implant alerted him to another incoming blast from their pursuer. The ship shook from the hit.

“Damn it,” Rutherford cursed. “They’re timing their shots. Making sure I can’t avoid their weapons fire and all this debris at the same time.”

“I’ve landed a couple hits on them,” Idari reported. “But they’re draining our shields faster than we’re draining theirs. We need to get out of the debris field!”

“The second ship is waiting for us out there,” Rutherford reminded her. “They’re matching our movements so they can pincer us if we try to make a run for it…”

He trailed off as he spotted a denser conglomeration of debris ahead of them on the starboard side. One of the Cerritos’s nacelles and a couple more chunks of the saucer section had drifted together, forming a narrow triangular passageway that led out of the debris field. It was just barely wide enough for the Popov to fit through. An idea that most people would have described as “beyond insane” formed in his mind.

“…and we’re going to let them,” Rutherford continued confidently. He banked the ship towards the passageway.

Idari saw what he’d pointed the ship towards and reacted in an alarmed tone. “Are you crazy?! Even at full impulse, it’ll take ten seconds to fly through that! They’ll be able to hit us from both ends, and there’s no room for us to maneuver!”

“Which is exactly what I want them to think,” Rutherford replied, still confident in his plan. “Go to the armory and get me a type two hand phaser.”

He knew Idari had no idea what he was thinking, but there wasn’t time to explain. Fortunately, she obeyed his instruction without hesitation. The Popov took another hit from their pursuer as she sprinted towards the back of the ship.

“Computer,” Rutherford continued. His fingers danced across his console as he lined up the ship with the passageway’s opening. “Divert power from weapons to the MEP. Stand by to activate it on my mark.”

The computer bleeped affirmatively. “Power diverted. MEP at maximum capacity in fifteen seconds.”

A few seconds later, Idari returned with a phaser in hand and sat down next to him. “An MEP?” she asked nervously. “Aren’t those things kind of dangerous?”

“Very, if you screw up the timing,” Rutherford replied.

The Matter/Energy Phasing device was a recent innovation as far as most people knew. When activated, it generated a phasing envelope that allowed an object – a ship, in this case – to pass through solid matter. Rutherford’s previous ship had had an earlier model installed on it, and it had been very useful on several occasions. The catch was that an enormous amount of energy was required to generate a stable envelope – more than the ship’s reactor was capable of generating steadily. So the MEP had built-in capacitors that had to be charged up, and if they ran dry before the ship finished flying through the other object, the other object would become fused with the ship. That usually resulted in a big explosion.

With his eyes still focused on the passageway they were rapidly approaching, Rutherford blindly held out his right hand. “Hand me that phaser.”

He felt her place it in her hand as the Popov entered the passageway, and he took his left hand off the ship’s controls to quickly tap some buttons on the phaser.

Idari looked at the sensor readouts. “The ship that’s chasing us is following us inside!”

“What about the ship outside the debris field?”

“They’re positioning themselves at the end of the passageway and arming torpedoes!”

Rutherford smirked. “Perfect.”

He tapped one final button on the phaser. It began to emanate a whine that was low-pitched at first but began to steadily rise. The Popov shook again as the ship behind them fired another phaser blast.

“Shields down to twenty-two percent!” Idari informed him. “The ship ahead is launching torpedoes!”

“Computer, activate the MEP now!” Rutherford commanded.

The computer bleeped affirmatively and the phasing envelope spread across the Popov’s hull. “MEP activated. Capacitor exhaustion in five, four…”

Idari gasped as the torpedoes launched by the ship ahead of them passed straight through the co*ckpit and continued on towards the ship behind them.

“…three…”

Rutherford used the neural interface to tweak the Popov’s heading slightly to make sure they intersected the ship ahead of them at the necessary angle. The pitch of the phaser’s whine continued to climb.

“…two…”

He delegated control over his arm muscles to his implant as it calculated the exact moment to throw the phaser and the amount of force to use to make sure it landed inside the other ship’s co*ckpit.

“…one…”

Time seemed to slow down as the Popov shot out of the passageway and began phasing through the ship that had been waiting for them. Rutherford’s implant engaged and tossed the phaser towards the enemy pilot, who had a gobsmacked look on his face. The phaser passed through the Popov’s outer hull into the other ship’s co*ckpit, with its matter returning to a normal state as it exited the envelope around the Popov.

Time resumed its normal flow as the Popov finished passing through the other ship. “MEP disengaged,” the computer reported, and the phasing envelope dissipated.

Rutherford turned his head towards the sensor readouts, and watched as the torpedoes launched by the front ship slammed into the rear ship. At the same moment, the phaser overload reached critical and it detonated inside the co*ckpit of the front ship. Both vessels exploded in spectacular fashion, adding more wreckage to the debris field.

Rutherford heaved a sigh of relief as he brought the Popov to a stop. They were safe, at least for now.

He turned to face his equally relieved companion. “Why don’t you start analyzing the sensor data from the Cerritos?” he suggested. “I’ll scan the yridian ships. See if anything useful survived the explosions.”

Idari nodded in response and immediately got to work. Rutherford likewise began examining what was left of the mercenary ships.

After several minutes of scrutinizing sensor scans, he frowned and made a frustrated noise. “There’s nothing left out there. I’m not seeing anything that looks like a data storage device, and it looks like both pilots were totally incinerated too.”

Idari glanced over at him. “So that’s not going to give us any new leads,” she thought aloud, then paused for a moment. “It’s weird how quickly they got here after we arrived though.”

Rutherford nodded. “I had the same thought. Someone obviously hired them to keep people from snooping around the wreckage. They were probably hiding in a nearby system, keeping an eye on the wreckage with long-range scans. But they didn’t attack the runabout that DS5 sent, which means either the mercenaries arrived after the runabout left, or they had orders to leave the runabout alone. Either way, their warp trails would’ve faded by now. We’ll never be able to track them back to wherever they came from.”

A bleep from the computer interrupted their conversation. Idari turned her head to focus on one of the screens. She inspected the data that the computer was displaying for a moment, then tapped a few buttons and co*cked an eyebrow. “Huh. That’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Rutherford asked. He rose out of his chair and moved to stand behind hers so he could get a closer look at the screen.

“The Cerritos’s sensors recorded a tetryon spike about half an hour before the ship was destroyed,” Idari explained. She gestured at the screen, which was now showing a line graph with random fluctuations that had a small but noticeable spike in it.

Now it was Rutherford’s turn to co*ck an eyebrow. “What’s so weird about that? Random tetryon fluctuations are a natural occurrence. This one’s a little bigger than usual, but it doesn’t look like anything special to me.”

“Random is the key word,” Idari replied. She tapped a few more buttons and a second line graph, which also had a spike in it, appeared to the right of the first one. “This sensor scan was taken by a Consortium outpost a couple lightyears from the border… two hours before the scan by the Cerritos.”

Idari tapped a couple more buttons and the graph on the right moved to the left so that it was overlaid on top. The computer bleeped again as it highlighted the overlap of the two spikes.

“They’re identical,” Rutherford breathed.

“Which is why the computer flagged them,” Idari added. “The odds of a tetryon spike with this magnitude and duration happening by chance in two different places at two different times is almost zero.”

Rutherford’s brow furrowed. “But what would cause a spike like that?”

Idari shook her head slightly, bewildered. “I have no idea.”

Rutherford sat down in his chair again and started tapping buttons. “I’ll run a database search, see if I can find anything.”

A few moments later, a bunch of text appeared on the screen alongside a picture of a beautiful young trill woman with dark brown hair and olive eyes. Rutherford quickly skimmed the text.

“It’s a research paper published a couple months ago by Doctor L. Barnes,” he summarized. “The same spike is in the raw data attached to the paper.”

Idari immediately did a double-take. “Wait, as in Doctor Lissara Barnes?!”

“Yeah,” Rutherford confirmed, looking over at Idari. “You know her?”

“No, we’ve never met,” Idari replied excitedly. “But I’ve heard of her. She’s a brilliant scientist who’s come up with some incredible new theories about particle physics! In fact, I read that paper when it came out, and I’ve wanted to meet her ever since!”

“Well it can’t be a coincidence that the same spike is in her research data,” Rutherford reasoned. “We need to talk to her. Find out if she has any idea what might’ve caused it. Do you know how we can contact her?”

“Even better!” Idari beamed. “I can get us in the same room with her! She lives in Consortium space, on Zavorno.”

A pensive look came over Rutherford’s face. “Hmm. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to start throwing your weight around as an Inquisitor. If Barnes is somehow involved with what happened to the Cerritos, we don’t want to tip her off.”

“Which is why I’m not going to meet her as an Inquisitor,” Idari smoothly replied. She tapped some buttons on her console and the research paper on Rutherford’s screen was replaced by different text: a party invitation.

“Today is Barnes’ birthday,” Idari explained. “And she’s throwing a big party at her estate.”

“Her estate?” Rutherford interrupted, arching an eyebrow. “How does an academic researcher afford an estate?”

“Oh, she’s not an academic researcher,” Idari clarified. “She’s a freelancer who works for the highest bidder, and the competition to hire her is fierce.”

That just created more questions in Rutherford’s mind. “So then why does she bother publishing academic papers at all?”

“No idea. Like I said, I’ve never met her,” Idari shrugged before her voice turned enthusiastic again. “But I’ve wanted to, so I got myself added to the guest list for the party. That’s where I was planning to be today, before this whole crisis started. Now, I can just bring you as my plus one, and we can infiltrate the estate together!”

“A relaxed social setting where we’ll just be two more people in a crowd of hundreds,” Rutherford summarized, then smiled. “I like it!”

Idari returned his smile. “I’ll call ahead and get us landing clearance.”

She swiveled towards the comm panel before pausing and swiveling back to face Rutherford.

“There is one more thing though,” she added in a more serious tone.

“Which is?”

“Black tie required.”

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

The trip to Zavorno only took a few minutes, thanks to the slipstream drive. As promised, Idari used her status as an Inquisitor to get them an inconspicuous parking spot. When they landed in the capital city, the temperature was an uncomfortably warm thirty-two degrees Celsius. Fortunately, the planet’s binary suns were already low in the sky, and the temperature had already started dropping.

Since the party didn’t start for several more hours, Rutherford and Idari used the time to prepare. Idari disembarked the Popov to set up their cover story, and had the local authorities send Rutherford the blueprints for Barnes’ estate.

The estate was a complex of three buildings situated on top of a hill that overlooked the city. The main building in the center of the grounds was where Barnes lived. It was the smallest of the three, though it was still quite large, and was surrounded by elaborate gardens. A series of walkways cut through those gardens to provide easy access to the other two buildings that flanked the residence. On the right, a private hangar housed a small science vessel that Barnes utilized in her work. On the left was a building filled with laboratories, where she conducted most of her experiments.

Getting into the estate would be easy, since Idari already had an invitation to the party, but getting out was likely to be more difficult. After they infiltrated the party, the plan was that Idari would find Barnes and subtly interrogate her about the research data. Meanwhile, Rutherford would take a walk around the publicly accessible areas to gauge the amount of security personnel Barnes had and figure out where they were stationed. After that, Rutherford would regroup with Idari and the two would make their way to the laboratory building. According to the blueprints, Barnes had a spacious office on the top floor. Presumably, they’d be able to access all of her files from there.

It was a straightforward plan, in theory, but the laboratory building was guaranteed to be off limits to party guests. The same was likely to be true for some of the gardens surrounding it. On top of that, the whole estate was blanketed by a comprehensive network of sensors and transporter inhibitors. Accessing Barnes’ office without being detected was going to be a challenge. If they did get detected, escaping was going to be an even bigger challenge, and Rutherford took the time to carefully plot out several exit strategies.

Then he turned his attention to learning everything he could about tetryons. Despite searching every database he had access to, he discovered nothing beyond what he already knew: tetryons were naturally-occurring and had been a minor scientific curiosity until someone had figured out that they could be used to build directed energy weapons. After that, it hadn’t taken long for several species to determine how to artificially generate coherent tetryon streams. It was still unclear how naturally-occurring tetryons were created. But interest in that question had spiked several months earlier after a massive subspace rift had opened up in the Hekaras Corridor, removing the only safe passage through a sector that was filled with intense tetryon fields.

Rutherford didn’t realize how much time had passed until Idari called to inform him that she was on her way back to the Popov. He’d been planning to call B and update his boss on the status of the investigation. But since he was now pressed for time, he opted for a short message instead, simply writing that he and Idari were on Zavorno investigating an anomalous sensor reading recorded by the Cerritos prior to its destruction.

Then he went to the rear of the ship and entered the empty living quarters, heading straight for the replicator. He tapped a few buttons and the replicator whirred to life, producing his outfit for the evening: a traditional twenty-first century Earth tuxedo. Tuxedos had gone extinct on Earth in the 2050s, along with many other things, during World War III. But in the 2360s, some fashionista had rediscovered them and they’d quickly become standard formal attire once more.

After changing into the tuxedo, Rutherford returned to the co*ckpit, where he found a response from B waiting for him. B’s message was just as short as Rutherford’s had been. To Rutherford’s relief, B had thus far been able to hold the line against the more hawkish admirals who were urging the President to retaliate against the Consortium. As Rutherford closed the message, he heard footsteps behind him and turned around just in time to see Idari walk through the hatch.

She was wearing a form-fitting red dress with a matching pair of heels. The dress was long enough that it almost reached her ankles, but a long slit up one side gave him a tantalizing glimpse of her toned legs with each step she took. Further up, the dress’s plunging neckline provided the perfect framing for a large, bejeweled pendant that was nestled between her breasts. For a moment, Rutherford forgot how to breathe.

Okay, seriously, is Q messing with me or something? She’s a super friendly, smoking hot science nerd… so naturally, she’s also a spy for a foreign government, and asking her out on a date is completely out of the question.

If Idari noticed his less-than-professional ogling, she gave no indication.

“Our cover story is all set,” she informed him. “When security scans us, they’ll see that we’re a wife and husband sci-tech team from Orion.”

And now I have to pretend to be married to her. Why does the universe hate me so much?

Oblivious to his thoughts, Idari continued speaking. “We’ve got a history of doing freelance work for a bunch of prominent companies. Prominent enough that security won’t question how we got on the guest list, but not so prominent that they’ll wonder why they’ve never heard of us before.”

“I’ve looked over the blueprints,” he informed her. “Getting to Barnes’ office might be tricky. Depends how security is arranged.”

Idari smiled at him. “Don’t worry, I have a plan for that. Ready to go?”

Rutherford nodded as he mentally facepalmed. Duh. She can just pheromone her way past any guards we run into. Should’ve thought of that sooner.

As they left the Popov and began walking through the city, Idari fell into step beside him and casually looped her left arm through his right. It only took a few minutes for them to reach their destination: a cable car station at the base of the hill where Barnes’ estate was situated. The station was guarded by several burly men of various species, who were also wearing tuxedos similar to Rutherford’s. An orion woman wearing a slinky dress who looked to be in her mid-thirties was standing in front of one of the guards, who was consulting a PADD to make sure she was on the guest list. The guard waved the woman through as Rutherford and Idari approached, and she moved past him to board the waiting cable car.

“Name?” the guard prompted as the pair stopped in front of him.

“Mistress and Mister D’Vana Idari,” Idari replied smoothly.

The guard looked down at the PADD for a moment and tapped a few buttons. “Go on through.”

The two of them joined the orion woman in the cable car. As the door slid shut and the cable car began its ascent towards the top of the hill, the woman turned and slowly raked her eyes over Rutherford’s body.

“An excellent specimen,” the woman said airily as her lips curved into a predatory smile. She turned her attention to Idari. “Terran slaves are so very hard to come by, but they’re worth every bar of latinum, wouldn’t you agree?”

Idari instantly bristled. “He’s my husband, not my slave,” she retorted, and the smile disappeared off the other woman’s face.

“Oh, so you’re one of those people,” the other woman replied disapprovingly, then sighed. “Well, at least you’ve trained him well enough that he knows his place.”

Idari glared at the other woman in response as the cable car reached the top of the hill. The door slid open and the other woman stepped out, quickly disappearing into the crowd of guests.

The gardens in front of the main residence had been set up for the party, and Rutherford could see dozens of round tables dotted across the grass. Hundreds of other guests – predominantly orion, but he could see members of at least a dozen other species – were already present. Numerous waiters weaved their way through the crowd, delivering drinks and hors d’oeuvres to the partygoers. To the left of the cable car station, a small band was playing festive music. Beyond all the tables, near the entrance to the main residence, several waiters tended an outdoor bar.

“Sorry about that,” Idari apologized to Rutherford, and he could tell that she was embarrassed about the other woman’s behavior. But it was par for the course in Consortium space, and nothing Rutherford hadn’t seen before.

Rutherford gave Idari a smile in reply. “No biggie. I’ve dealt with worse.”

Idari’s embarrassment was briefly replaced by relief before shifting into business mode. “Alright. Time to split up. I’ll meet you at the bar afterwards.”

“Okie-dokie!” he agreed, and the two went their separate ways.

He spent the next twenty minutes systematically walking through the estate’s gardens. As it turned out, Barnes had opted to leave most of the property open to her guests, and he passed several other partygoers who had decided to stretch their legs and enjoy the moonlight. The paths that led to the laboratory building all had a velvet rope stretching across them, along with a “Staff Only” sign, but no security personnel. Presumably, there were too many blocked paths to guard them individually. The hedges that ran along both sides of the paths were too tall to see over, but Rutherford spotted two roving patrols moving through the cordoned off areas thanks to his implant’s thermal vision.

The laboratory building itself would no doubt be guarded, but he couldn’t tell how many or where they were stationed. He decided not to risk trespassing to find out. Instead, he made his way back to the party, stopping at the bar, as he and Idari had agreed. As he leaned against the bar, he casually looked around, trying to spot his partner, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Probably still looking for Barnes. With a place this big and this many people, it can’t be easy to find her.

A mazarite bartender approached Rutherford. “What can I get for you?”

Rutherford scratched his chin for a moment, contemplating the question. But before he could answer, another voice came from behind him.

“Two fingers of saurian brandy, neat.”

Rutherford turned to find that the voice belonged to none other than Doctor Lissara Barnes. She was standing to his left, wearing a black, strapless dress that ended well above the knee and hugged every curve of her body. Idari was still nowhere to be seen, but Barnes would probably disappear back into the crowd after the bartender poured her drink, so Rutherford decided to seize the opportunity.

“Make that two,” he told the bartender, who nodded and walked away to fetch their drinks.

Surprised by his comment, Barnes turned to face him. She tilted her head slightly as a questioning look appeared on her face.

“I don’t think we’ve met before, Mister…?” she prompted.

“Rutherford,” he completed suavely. “Sam Rutherford. A pleasure to meet you, Doctor Barnes.”

Barnes smiled at him. “Please, call me Lissara. What’s your field of study, Sam?”

Rutherford returned her smile, though not entirely because he was being friendly. Her question offered the perfect segue. He brought up his implant’s biometric analyzer and started monitoring her vitals.

“At the moment? Tetryons,” he replied smoothly. “I’m part of a team studying the Hekaras Corridor.”

The mention of tetryons didn’t trigger any discernable change in Barnes’ vital signs. The bartender returned with their drinks, and Barnes took a sip of hers before replying.

“So you’re working on a humanitarian project then,” Barnes surmised. She sounded unimpressed and her smile dimmed. Given what Rutherford knew about her, he doubted that altruism appealed to her, and he decided to take a gamble.

“Hardly,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That corridor was an important route for some ferengi merchants. Now, they have to fly the long way around, and there’s quite a profit to be made if anyone can figure out how to seal those subspace rifts… or figure out how to neutralize the tetryon fields that make the rest of the sector impassable.”

As Rutherford had hoped, the mention of profit reignited Barnes’ interest in him. “And just how profitable would solving that problem be?”

Rutherford smirked. “Profitable enough that I could buy an estate almost as nice as yours.”

Barnes’ lips curved into an alluring smile and she moved into his personal space, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off her body.

“You know, I just wrapped up my latest project,” she purred, gazing into his eyes. “And I’ve been looking for something new and interesting to work on. Maybe you and I could talk more about this tomorrow… over a private dinner, perhaps?”

Barnes’ attempt to seduce him was neither subtle nor surprising. She seemed like the type of woman who was willing to leverage every advantage she had, including her looks. Rutherford decided to play along. He leaned in slightly, but as he opened his mouth to answer, he heard another voice from off to his side.

“Oh! There you are!”

Both he and Barnes turned their heads to find a smiling Idari rapidly approaching them.

“This is my partner, D’Vana,” Rutherford smoothly informed Barnes, taking care to emphasize the word ‘partner’ as a signal to both women. He wanted Idari to drop the pretense that the two of them were married, while simultaneously implying to Barnes that her sexual overtures had been well-received and that Idari was not a rival in that regard.

“I was just telling Lissara about our little project in the Hekaran sector,” he informed Idari as she came to a stop beside him. Now that she was present, he wanted to steer the conversation back towards their real objective. “She was just offering to help us with those tetryon fields.”

“For an appropriate fee, of course,” Barnes interjected.

Rutherford turned back to Barnes. He gazed into her eyes hungrily and lowered his voice by an octave, aiming to create the impression that her seduction had succeeded. “I’m sure we can find an arrangement that would satisfy both of us.”

Barnes opened her mouth to reply, then caught sight of something behind Rutherford, over his shoulder. A moment later, one of Barnes’ security guards stepped around him and came to a stop next to Barnes. The guard leaned down, placing his mouth near Barnes’ ear and lifting a hand to block bystanders from reading his lips. Rutherford dialed up the audio receptors on his implant, but the background noise from the party was still loud enough to drown out whatever the guard was whispering. An irritated look appeared on Barnes’ face as the guard finished speaking and dropped his hand.

“Show them to the library and tell them I’ll be with them in a moment,” she instructed the guard, who nodded and walked off.

Barnes turned her attention back to Rutherford. “I’d love to keep chatting, but there’s a situation I need to attend to,” she told him apologetically. Then the seductive smile from earlier returned to her face and she leaned towards him slightly. “But I’ll have my people contact you tomorrow. I look forward to continuing our… collaboration.”

Barnes turned to leave and Idari hastily held out her hand. “It’s too bad you have to go,” Idari said with an enthusiastic smile. “But it was great to meet you!”

Barnes politely smiled and shook Idari’s hand, but it was clear she didn’t return the sentiment. “Likewise. Please excuse me.”

Barnes walked off towards the residence, adding some sway to her hips for Rutherford’s benefit. After Barnes passed out of earshot, he dropped his flirtatious attitude and turned to Idari, who likewise adopted a serious demeanor.

“Well, that wasn’t as informative as I was hoping,” he told her quietly. “But she didn’t have any reaction when I brought up tetryons. If she has anything to do with the Cerritos, I don’t think she realizes it.”

Idari nodded. “On to phase two then. What’s the shortest route to the lab?”

Rutherford straightened and gestured for her to follow him. “This way.”

He led her through the gardens to one of the walkways that had a velvet rope across it. The hedges along the walkways provided natural cover from most angles, but they paused to look up and down the two intersecting paths to make sure nobody was around. After confirming that that nobody would witness what they were about to do, Rutherford reached to unhook the rope, but Idari grabbed his wrist to stop him. He looked over at her questioningly. In response, she released his wrist and then reached up to tap the pendant that was dangling between her breasts.

Rutherford’s eyes widened as the air around Idari shimmered for a moment. A quiet fizzle could be heard as a holographic projection snapped into place around her, altering her appearance to make her look exactly like Barnes had a few minutes earlier.

“That thing is a holoprojector?!” he exclaimed.

Idari smiled at him with Barnes’ face as she reached to unhook the rope. The two of them stepped through and she re-hooked the rope behind them.

“It’s also a voice modulator,” Idari nonchalantly informed him using Barnes’ voice as they started walking towards the lab. “And a biometric impersonator. As far as any guard or any scanner is concerned, I’m Lissara Barnes now.”

That must be why she wanted to shake Barnes’ hand earlier. Probably getting a DNA sample.

“Wow, that’s really impressive,” he complimented.

“The downside is the battery life,” Barnes/Idari informed him. “All that gear eats a lot of power, and there wasn’t space for a big energy cell. We’ve got about ten minutes to get in, get the info we need, and get out.”

Rutherford had his implant set a ten-minute timer, which popped up and began ticking down in the upper right corner of his vision.

“And here I was thinking you were just going to use your pheromones to get past any guards,” Rutherford admitted.

“I could,” Barnes/Idari replied. “But pheromones don’t erase memories. They’d remember what I looked like and what I made them do. Barnes has done work for my government in the past, and she’s well-connected. My superiors were skittish about approving this operation, and the only way I could get them to agree was by assuring them it would have zero footprint.”

“Guess we’d better not mess this up then,” Rutherford commented.

As they continued walking through the gardens, they passed several security patrols. The patrols eyed Rutherford warily for a moment, but relaxed and continued on their routes without a word after seeing that “Barnes” was with him.

Rutherford’s timer ticked past the seven-minute mark as he and Barnes/Idari arrived at the lab building. At first, he was surprised to find that there weren’t any guards standing watch outside, until he caught sight of the biometric security scanner next to the entrance. His implant easily identified the make and model, informing him that it was brand new and state-of-the-art.

Barnes/Idari stopped in front of the scanner, which bleeped before speaking in a synthesized male baritone. “Please hold for identity scan.”

A blue beam shot out from the scanner and swept over Barnes/Idari from head to toe. Rutherford held his breath for a moment, wondering if the disguise would work.

The scanner bleeped again. “Identity confirmed. Welcome, Doctor Barnes.”

Rutherford exhaled as the entrance slid open, revealing a turbolift. The pair stepped inside and the doors slid shut.

Damn, that pendant is really good. I’ve got to get L to make me one of those…

“Office,” Barnes/Idari commanded. The turbolift bleeped affirmatively and started to rise.

“That walk was three minutes,” Rutherford informed her. “Which means we’ve only got four minutes to find what we need.”

“Then we’d better do this quick,” she replied.

The turbolift came to a stop and the doors opened to reveal Barnes’ office. Despite knowing the exact dimensions thanks to the blueprints he’d looked at earlier, Rutherford was still caught off-guard by how big the room was. That might’ve been because it was mostly empty. The lighting and wall decorations were ostentatious, but the only furniture in the room was at the far end, where a large desk with a computer monitor sat facing the turbolift. Two guest chairs were positioned in front of the desk, while a much larger and more elaborate chair for Barnes sat behind the desk. The room’s entire right wall was a massive window offering a full view of the rest of the estate.

The duo beelined towards Barnes’ desk, and Barnes/Idari sat down in Barnes’ chair. The computer immediately came to life, and Barnes/Idari started tapping away at the console. After a few moments, the computer popped up a long list of files.

“I found the tetryon spike,” Barnes/Idari said. “It’s part of raw research data related to something called Project Onyx. But the spike only occurs once, and there are thousands of files related to that project. What do you think we should search for?”

The timer in Rutherford’s vision ticked past the six-minute mark. “A maintenance panel,” Rutherford replied, confusing Idari. He looked around the room and spotted what he was looking for on the wall behind Barnes’ desk. He knelt down and popped the panel off the wall. After finding the standard interface cable inside, he pulled it out and connected it to his implant, then turned to face his puzzled companion.

“Upload all of the Onyx files to the Popov,” he instructed. “Use my implant as a relay. Then we’ll get out of here, and later we can spend as much time as we want sifting through the data.”

Barnes/Idari didn’t hesitate to comply. She swiveled back around to face the computer and tapped more buttons. Rutherford saw a progress bar pop up in his vision below the countdown timer.

He gulped nervously. “You weren’t kidding about the number of files. It’s going to be tight getting back to the party.”

The next three minutes felt more like three hours. The progress bar in Rutherford’s vision slowly filled up, and finally completed just as the timer ticked past the three-minute mark.

“Got it,” he announced as he hastily detached the interface cable and let it retract back into its socket.

He lifted the maintenance panel and pushed it back into place while Barnes/Idari closed the search she’d run. Then the duo sprinted towards the turbolift.

“Entrance,” Barnes/Idari ordered.

The computer bleeped affirmatively as the doors slid shut and the turbolift took them down to the ground floor. Rutherford kept an eye on the timer as they exited the building and quickly made their way back along the same path they’d arrived by. They’d almost made it back to the party when he heard the fizzling of the holoprojector. Glancing to his right, he found that its power cell had run out twenty seconds early, and Idari now looked like herself again.

A moment later, his implant’s thermal vision alerted him to a threat: a two-person guard patrol was coming down another path that intersected the one they were on. The hedges were currently preventing the patrol from seeing them, but there was no way they could cross back into the public area without being spotted.

“sh*t!” he whispered to Idari. “Patrol coming. Ten seconds.”

Both of them looked around frantically, trying to see if there was anything around them that they could use to their advantage. Rutherford spotted a tall tree behind Idari, but immediately dismissed it; the trunk wasn’t thick enough to conceal them if the patrol turned towards them at the intersection. Idari, however, had a different reaction. She turned back to face Rutherford, grabbed him by his lapels and yanked him towards her.

“Kiss me,” she hissed.

Rutherford blinked.

This is the oldest trick in the book. There’s no way it’s actually going to work, right?

But there were only a few seconds left before the patrol arrived, and he didn’t have any better ideas. He walked Idari backwards a few steps and pressed her up against the tree trunk, then closed the gap between them and kissed her hard, trying to make it look as convincing as possible. In response, she melted against him, letting out a breathy moan as she wound her arms around his neck and a curled a leg around his back to pull him even closer. His blood rushed south as his brain forgot that this was only supposed to be an act.

“Hey!”

The shout from the guard snapped him back to reality and he pulled back slightly from Idari, feeling somewhat dazed. The two of them turned their heads to look at the two guards, but didn’t completely break their embrace.

“Oh!” Idari reacted in a surprised tone while breathing heavily. “Uh, w-we were just, uh…”

Rutherford didn’t need his implant’s biometric analyzer to see that her skin was flushed and her pupils were blown.

Wait a minute. Was she… actually enjoying that?

One of the guards walked over to the velvet rope across the path that led back to the public area and unhooked it. The other guard gave them an unamused look before speaking again in a stern tone. “Yeah, I can tell what you were just going to do. Go find somewhere else. Off Doctor Barnes’ property.”

Idari finally disentangled her limbs from Rutherford and giggled nervously as she straightened her dress. “Right! Sorry!”

Then she grabbed Rutherford’s hand and pulled him back towards the public area, setting a quick pace. The second guard re-hooked the rope after they passed through, and the two guards watched them head back towards the party.

The guards waited until they thought the two were out of earshot before speaking again, but Rutherford dialed up his implant’s audio receptors.

The guard that had spoken to them made an annoyed sound. “Why are all these damn scientists so horny all the time?!”

“Ugh,” the other guard agreed. “Seriously, do they ever actually do any research?”

Satisfied that they’d successfully fooled the guards, Rutherford leaned down slightly so he could whisper into Idari’s ear. “They bought it.”

“Perfect,” she breathed. “Let’s get out of here.”

They made their way back to the cable car and stepped inside. The door slid shut and the car began its descent with the two of them as its only passengers.

Idari finally released his hand as she turned to face him. “So, how long will it take for the Popov to index that data?”

“Six hours, at least,” Rutherford informed her. “There’s not much we can do until it’s done, and it’s been a long day. I’m thinking we should get some rest while we can.”

Idari smiled at him. “I was just thinking the same thing. The Inquisition has a safehouse outside the city that we can use.”

Under normal circ*mstances, he would’ve suggested sleeping on the ship instead. That would be even more secure than a safehouse. But the Popov didn’t have any beds, and the idea of sleeping on the floor wasn’t very appealing.

“Works for me,” he replied.

After the cable car reached the bottom of the hill, they stepped off and hailed an autonomous taxi. Ten minutes passed as the taxi whisked them out of the city to their destination: a two-story house in an upscale suburban neighborhood. Like all the other houses in the neighborhood, the safehouse was well-maintained and had a neatly manicured lawn, composed of a vibrant purple grass that Rutherford hadn’t seen before. Unlike the other houses on the street, the lights inside the safehouse were all dark, and the exterior was illuminated only by the streetlamps.

They stepped out of the taxi and strode up the walkway towards the front door. Behind them, Rutherford heard the taxi depart, no doubt on its way to pick up another customer. The front door slid open as they approached, and the lights inside the house came on. Idari led him inside and up a flight of stairs to a pair of open doors, each leading into a bedroom.

“So, which one’s mine?” Rutherford asked. He doubted it mattered, but he was a guest here and it didn’t hurt to be polite.

Idari leaned against a wall and fixed her gaze on him. When she spoke, her voice was an octave lower than usual. “That depends on whether you want to pick up where we left off.”

His brain was against the idea, but his body – still buzzing from their earlier kiss – was very much in favor, and he stepped closer. His hands came to rest on her hips as he gently pressed her up against the wall, and a hungry look appeared on her face as she wound her arms around his neck.

“You know,” he began huskily. “If our bosses ever find out about this, they’ll fire us both.”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” she replied without hesitation, and then pulled him in for another kiss.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

When Rutherford awoke, his implant’s chronometer indicated he’d been asleep for nearly six hours. He opened his eyes to find that weak sunlight was streaming in through the bedroom window. Rolling his head in the other direction, he discovered that the other side of the bed was empty, indicating that Idari had woken before him.

He yawned as he stretched his muscles, then threw off the covers and got out of bed. It took a few moments for him to locate his boxers. He hadn’t exactly paid attention to which direction Idari had tossed them last night as they’d torn each other’s clothes off. His trousers were easier to find, and he pulled them on over his boxers. His button-down shirt was nowhere to be seen, but given that Idari’s dress and panties were still on the floor, he had a hunch as to where he could find it.

As he buttoned his pants, he suddenly heard the sounds of a scuffle erupt below him, followed by the discharge of a klingon disruptor pistol. His implant delivered a jolt of adrenaline and he immediately looked down, trying to use his thermal vision to look through the floor, but found that he couldn’t see anything. He realized that the Inquisition must’ve reinforced the house’s floors and walls to prevent anyone from seeing what was happening inside. Which was a prudent security measure in most cases, but in this case, it hampered his ability to aid Idari.

As he sprinted out the door and down the stairs, he heard Idari continuing to trade blows with someone, along with several more disruptor blasts. He rounded the corner into a room he’d barely taken notice of the night before, only to find that Idari didn’t need his help in the slightest.

The room was an open-plan living area and office. The living area had a large screen on one wall, with a sofa and some oversized chairs sitting across from it. A glass table sat in front of the sofa, but had been shattered by the impact of a ktarian man landing on it. Judging from the smoking hole in the ktarian’s chest, he wouldn’t be getting up again. A desk sat at the other end of the room. The computer terminal that had been sitting atop it had been knocked to the floor during the fight, as had the chair that had been sitting in front of the desk.

Idari stood in the middle of the room with her back to Rutherford, still focused on her remaining opponent: a bolian man. Rutherford spotted a disruptor pistol on the floor a meter away, as well as several scorch marks on the wall, suggesting that Idari had struggled with the bolian for control of the weapon before eventually knocking it out of his hand. But the bolian’s struggle was over. He already looked dazed as Idari delivered a devastating right hook. The bolian crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Idari, having heard Rutherford’s footsteps behind her, instinctively turned towards him. She was clearly expecting another assailant, and her arms remained raised, but she relaxed when she saw who was standing there. As he’d expected, she was wearing his button-down shirt, which was two sizes too large for her and ended mid-thigh on her body. She’d only bothered to button a few of the buttons at her midriff, and Rutherford did his best to ignore how good she looked in his shirt. They had bigger concerns to worry about.

“Who the hell are these guys?!” he exclaimed.

“No idea,” Idari replied, still panting from exertion as she lowered her arms. “They just walked right in through the wall.”

Rutherford’s eyebrows shot up. “What? How?!”

“Not sure,” Idari responded. She knelt down and pulled something off the bolian’s hand. “But I think it might have something to do with this.”

Rutherford crossed the room as she stood, and the two of them examined the device. It was a fingerless metallic glove with a few buttons and indicator lights on top of it. All of them were dark now, suggesting that the power source had been exhausted.

“It looks… kind of Federation-y,” Idari observed.

“Yeah,” Rutherford agreed grimly. “I know that L Branch has been working on a man-portable version of the MEP, but it’s still on the drawing board.”

Idari looked up from the device with a concerned look on her face. “Do you think this device is based on that design?”

“Hard to say without disassembling it,” Rutherford replied, then looked over at the unconscious bolian. “Maybe he could tell us where it came from.”

Idari followed his gaze. “Yeah, we should interrogate him. Let’s tie him up in this chair.”

The bolian man began to stir just as they finished securing him, and Idari gently pulled Rutherford aside, out of the bolian’s earshot.

“Just… let me do the talking, okay?” she requested quietly, her eyes focused firmly on the floor. Her tone was confident, but tinged with guilt. “He’ll answer any questions I ask him… whether he wants to or not.”

“Okie-dokie,” Rutherford agreed. But he was beginning to see a pattern.

She seems… ashamed of her pheromones. First that bartender on Bajor, now this bolian. And she didn’t use them at Barnes’ estate either. She said that was because she didn’t want to leave any clues behind, but… it feels like that’s not the whole story.

Oblivious to Rutherford’s thoughts, Idari turned towards the bolian and her whole demeanor instantly shifted. Her lips curved into a seductive smile as she casually sauntered towards him, then sensually lowered herself into his lap. The bolian’s eyes widened but quickly began to take on a glassy look.

Idari began gently caressing the bolian’s bald head. “Tell me,” she began in a breathy tone. “Why did you try to kill me?”

“I… uh…” the bolian stammered, clearly trying to fight Idari’s pheromones.

Idari’s voice became a purr. “You do want to please your Mistress, don’t you?”

“Uh… y-yes. Yes, of course, Mistress.”

Rutherford’s jaw sagged at how quickly the bolian had collapsed under Idari’s assault. His pants were also suddenly feeling tight. He’d never watched an Inquisitor interrogate someone before, and though he’d always known pheromones were involved, he hadn’t expected the rest of their technique to be so erotic.

“Good,” Idari replied, her smile widening. “Now, why did you try to kill me?”

“We were paid to kill you,” the bolian replied, now gazing into Idari’s eyes like she was the only thing in the universe that was important. “Both of you.”

Idari continued to caress the bolian’s head. “Who hired you?”

“I don’t know. It’s always anonymous,” the bolian explained. “We get written instructions, and when the job’s done, the client pays us in QuarkCoin.”

Rutherford grimaced. QuarkCoin had become a very popular method of payment for goods and services that weren’t entirely legal because of the fact that it was untraceable.

Idari realized that her current line of questioning wasn’t going to yield any useful answers, and switched tracks. “How did you know where to find us?”

“The client told us you were in the city,” the bolian replied. “We bribed a city computer tech to give us access to the surveillance network and tracked you to this house.”

Rutherford perked up slightly. The fact that the client knew they’d been in the city was a useful nugget of information, and a hypothesis started to form in his mind.

“How did you walk through that wall?” Idari continued, still purring every word. “Using that glove?”

“Yeah. It’s some kind of… matter phaser thing.”

“Where did you get it?”

“The client gave us the replicator pattern.”

Idari twisted to face Rutherford. “Anything else you want me to ask him?”

Rutherford shook his head. “No. I doubt he knows anything else that’s useful.”

Idari raised herself out of the bolian’s lap, prompting a forlorn look from the bolian, and strode over to the computer terminal that had been knocked to the floor. She picked it up and placed it back on the desk where it belonged, then tapped a few buttons on it. A few moments later, a transporter beam appeared in the room and deposited a pair of muscular orion men wearing security uniforms.

“Take the bolian into custody,” Idari ordered the security officers. “Keep him locked up until I decide what to do with him. And send a team to clean up this mess.”

“Yes, Inquisitor,” the security officers replied without hesitation. Rutherford was mildly surprised at their demeanor. They’d been summoned by an Inquisitor who was clad in nothing but a man’s shirt, and who was standing in the same room with a human man who was notably not wearing a shirt. The implication was obvious, but if the officers had any reaction to it, they hid it well.

As the officers slapped proper cuffs on the bolian and began untying him from the chair, Idari strode over to Rutherford.

“So… since this safehouse apparently isn’t all that safe, maybe we should continue this conversation on the ship,” she suggested.

“Good idea,” Rutherford agreed. Then, as if on cue, his stomach growled at him. “And we should also have breakfast.”

The duo beamed back to the Popov. Although the ship didn’t have any beds, it did have a working sonic shower, which they each used to get cleaned up. After replicating new casual clothing similar to what they’d worn on Bajor the previous day, they got dressed and replicated some food, which they took into the armory across the hall.

As they sat down at the workbench and began eating, Idari resumed their earlier conversation. “So, thoughts on the assassins?”

“My latinum is on Barnes,” Rutherford replied around a mouthful of waffles. “Whoever hired those guys knew we were in the city, and their client gave them advanced tech so they could get the drop on us.”

“What about the yridians?” Idari countered while chewing her own food. “Barnes didn’t even know about us yet when they attacked us.”

“You’re assuming that both teams of assassins were hired by the same client,” Rutherford pointed out.

“You think we have two different people trying to kill us?” Idari sounded skeptical.

Rutherford shrugged as he took another bite of waffles. “Wouldn’t be the first time I pissed off multiple bad guys in one mission. What’s your theory?”

Idari chewed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. The Cerritos, the yridians, the tetryon spike, Barnes, the ktarian and the bolian… it all has to be connected somehow. We just don’t have enough pieces of the puzzle yet.”

“Yeah,” Rutherford agreed. “It’s too bad the bolian didn’t know much. I was amazed at how quickly you got him to talk. Those pheromones are really something. Kind of makes me wish I had some.”

“They’re a useful tool,” Idari acknowledged. “But trust me… you don’t want them.”

The intensity in Idari’s voice caught Rutherford off guard and he paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Why?” he asked in a perplexed tone.

Idari took another bite of her own breakfast and chewed silently for a moment. She seemed to be struggling to decide how to respond, and Rutherford was tempted to retract his question. But he was curious what she was going to say, so he lifted the fork to his mouth and ate another bite of waffles instead.

“Some orion women don’t have pheromones,” Idari began quietly. “I was one of them, up until a few years ago, when I got the genetic therapy that all of the upper-echelon Inquisitors get. And I wish I were still one of them.”

She paused for a moment and set her fork down.

“When I’m an Inquisitor, the pheromones are a big help,” she continued in a vulnerable tone that he hadn’t heard before. “But when I’m not an Inquisitor… when I’m just D’Vana… it’s impossible for me to have a ‘normal’ life anymore. I can never really have any friends – or partners – because I can never be sure whether they’re doing things because they want to or because I’m influencing them to.”

Rutherford blinked as the pieces finally clicked into place.

She’s… lonely. I never thought about it that way before, but she’s right. That must be awful.

Now feeling mildly guilty, Rutherford apologized in a chagrined tone. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s okay,” Idari assured him with a tiny smile. “It’s… actually kind of nice to be able to talk to someone about it for a change.”

“I take it that most orion women don’t see it as a problem,” Rutherford commented.

“No, they don’t,” Idari replied in a frustrated tone. “And there’s no excuse for it. The Consortium has some of the best schools in the quadrant. They should know better.”

“So why don’t they?” Rutherford asked, arching an eyebrow. He’d read more than a few intelligence assessments about orion society, but all of those had been written by Starfleet analysts. He was curious how someone with an inside view saw it.

“Because they don’t want to,” Idari replied vehemently. “The idea that orion women are superior to everyone else goes back millennia, to a time before recorded history. It’s how they justify all the other messed up stuff in our society, like piracy and slavery. And it’s all because pheromones gave women power over men. If they had to admit that using pheromones to manipulate people is wrong, they’d have to admit that all those other things are wrong too.”

Not to mention how it would threaten the monarchy. Which, now that I think about it, makes it really weird that an Inquisitor is saying all this…

But before Rutherford could open his mouth to reply, the ship’s computer bleeped and the screen on the wall to his left came to life, showing an incoming transmission from Starfleet headquarters. Abandoning his half-eaten waffles, he moved over to the screen and tapped a button to accept the call. B appeared on the screen, and the look on the other man’s face immediately caused a bad feeling to settle in the pit of Rutherford’s stomach.

“Rutherford. Inquisitor,” B greeted them evenly. “I have some bad news. Two hours ago, an orion ship – the Sk’Ott – was destroyed in Consortium space, not far from the Federation border. The Consortium is accusing us of blowing it up as retaliation for the Cerritos.”

Rutherford saw Idari tense up, and he sucked in a breath before asking the obvious question. “Did we?”

“That’s why I’m calling,” B replied grimly. “Because I’m not sure.”

“What?!” Idari erupted incredulously. “How could you not know what your own fleet is doing?!”

“I’ve been able to stall the other admirals so far,” B replied tensely. “And the President hasn’t authorized any retaliatory strikes. But… Mariner is missing. On a hunch, I asked L to check the Kolbe-class hangar. The Baissac is gone.”

The pit in Rutherford’s stomach grew larger as he recalled the fury he’d witnessed from Mariner in B’s office. He almost checked his implant’s chronometer to make sure that only a day had passed. It felt more like a month.

“You think she stole the Baissac and used it to attack the orions,” Rutherford inferred.

“The Sk’Ott was a science vessel,” B responded quietly, his shoulders slumping. “A civilian ship, not military. I don’t want to believe that Mariner could cross that line, but… after what happened…”

B trailed off and was silent for a moment before squaring his shoulders and continuing in a more authoritative tone. “A comm buoy in orbit of Alira’s Hope detected a ping from the Baissac’s transponder half an hour ago. I’m ordering you to stop Mariner and retrieve the Baissac by any means necessary.”

“What about the investigation?” Rutherford objected. “I don’t know who destroyed the Cerritos, but I don’t think it was the Consortium. If we’re busy hunting Mariner, we’re not following up on the leads we’ve got.”

“If Mariner blows up any more orion ships, it won’t matter who destroyed the Cerritos,” B countered. “But if you apprehend her quickly, you might still have enough time to stop what’s coming.”

B’s statement made the hairs on Rutherford’s neck stand up. “What’s coming?” Rutherford echoed.

A foreboding look appeared on B’s face. “According to the latest reports from our listening posts, the Consortium has mobilized several fleets and is moving them towards the border. The President has ordered us to do the same. If you can’t apprehend Mariner and figure out what really happened to the Cerritos, we could be at war with the Consortium before the end of the day.”

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

After quickly altering the Popov’s engine signature to make the ship look like a civilian transport shuttle – something that would no doubt displease L when she found out, but would hopefully fool the Baissac’s sensors – Rutherford piloted the Popov to Alira’s Hope. The planet was on the Federation’s border with the Cardassian Union, inside the de-militarized zone that had been established as part of the peace treaty after the last war between the two powers. It was home to a small colony with a few thousand inhabitants, and was unremarkable in every way.

Rutherford couldn’t fathom why Mariner would blow up a Consortium science ship and then travel here. Whatever the reason was, she was making no attempt to hide her presence. A sensor scan of the planet easily located the Baissac, which was parked on the ground in a small clearing inside a dense forest. The landing site that Mariner had chosen was far from the colony, further adding to Rutherford’s confusion about why she was here.

After grabbing hand phasers from the armory, Rutherford and Idari beamed down to the planet. Deciding that beaming directly into the Baissac would be too risky, Rutherford instead opted for a location inside the forest, out of view of the Baissac. The pair stealthily made their way towards the stolen ship, allowing the natural sounds of the birds and primates in the forest to mask their approach.

When they reached the tree line, Rutherford stopped and knelt for a moment to assess the situation, with Idari following suit. He used a tricorder to scan the immediate vicinity for humanoid lifeforms, finding one inside the Baissac and no others beyond Idari and himself. Rutherford’s eyebrows furrowed as he put the tricorder away and scrutinized the ship’s appearance. The exterior showed no signs of combat, looking exactly as it had a day earlier when he’d seen it in the hangar bay on Starbase One.

He rose, gesturing for Idari to follow him. The duo emerged from the tree line and quickly but quietly approached the Baissac. For whatever reason, Mariner had left the ship’s co*ckpit hatch wide open, allowing Rutherford and Idari to burst inside without warning. They found Mariner standing behind the pilot’s seat with her back to them, doing something on her console. The rogue agent was dressed in casual clothing, but years of experience meant that Rutherford easily spotted the phaser hidden beneath her jacket.

“Finally!” Mariner exclaimed upon hearing the two step inside. “I was starting to wonder if you’d—”

She stopped mid-sentence as she finished tapping on her console and turned around to discover that two people were aiming phasers at her.

“Expecting someone else?” Rutherford asked sharply.

Mariner’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment, then narrowed again as she caught sight of Idari. She angrily glared at the orion woman as her hand twitched towards her phaser.

“Don’t even think about it,” Rutherford warned.

Mariner growled in response and reluctantly raised her hands into the air.

Rutherford turned his head slightly towards Idari, while keeping his eyes locked on Mariner. “Take her phaser.”

He noted the equally furious look on Idari’s face as the Inquisitor followed his instructions, taking care not to step between the two Starfleet officers and block Rutherford’s shot. Idari kept her own phaser trained on Mariner as she reached inside Mariner’s jacket with her left hand and removed Mariner’s weapon.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Mariner asked acidly.

Rutherford brought up his implant’s biometric analyzer while Idari stepped back from Mariner, coming to a stop beside him.

“We were investigating what happened to your mom’s ship,” Rutherford replied, carefully choosing his phrasing and emphasis. Mariner had stormed out of B’s office before Rutherford’s briefing, so she probably didn’t know any details of the investigation and was instead suspicious that he was under Idari’s thrall. He wanted to make clear to Mariner that that wasn’t the case.

And given how the two women were glaring at each other, he also wanted to lower the temperature a bit. He knew Idari well enough now to know that she would empathize with Mariner if she understood why Mariner was so angry. His description of the Cerritos as Mariner’s mom’s ship had the intended effect. The look on Idari’s face softened slightly, though he doubted that Mariner noticed.

“Then B called,” Rutherford continued evenly. “Told us you’d stolen the Baissac and ordered us to chase you down.”

Mariner stopped glaring at Idari and turned her attention to Rutherford before replying in a more conciliatory tone. “Listen, I know I should’ve gotten authorization, but there wasn’t time!”

“Time for what?” Rutherford asked skeptically.

“I got an urgent message from an old friend,” Mariner explained. “She asked me to meet her here as soon as possible. Said it had something to do with the Cerritos, but she couldn’t talk about it over subspace.”

Mariner’s biometrics showed no signs of dishonesty so far. Rutherford opened his mouth to continue the interrogation, but Idari beat him to the punch.

“And, what, you just decided to blow up a helpless science ship while you were waiting?!” Idari asked accusingly.

It wasn’t how Rutherford would’ve phrased the question, but the blunt language had an immediate impact. A shocked look appeared on Mariner’s face.

“What?!” Mariner replied incredulously.

“A Consortium science ship was blown up on their side of the border a few hours ago,” Rutherford clarified. “You’re saying you had nothing to do with that?”

A slightly panicked look appeared on Mariner’s face as she realized the gravity of the situation she was in. “No! Wait, I mean, yes? Look, I know I have a temper, but I’m not a war criminal! I haven’t been anywhere near Consortium space! Check my nav logs if you don’t believe me!”

“Nav logs can be forged,” Idari rebutted.

Rutherford turned and knelt, holstering his phaser as he did so. Then he pried a panel off the wall and pushed it aside. After taking a moment to examine the equipment inside, he twisted and looked up at Idari.

“True,” he said. “But this phaser coil is in pristine condition. It’s never been fired. Mariner isn’t lying. She hasn’t attacked anyone.”

Rutherford pushed the panel back into place and stood. With the situation defused, the look on Idari’s face was replaced by a more neutral and thoughtful expression. She handed Mariner’s phaser back and both women holstered their weapons.

Then Idari asked the question they were all thinking. “But… if she didn’t destroy the Sk’Ott, then who did?”

It was another quandary they didn’t have an answer to. But the silence that ensued as they contemplated the possibilities meant that the three of them easily heard the footsteps of someone approaching the hatch. They all turned towards the opening as a human woman with pale skin and short, black hair wearing a brown jacket stepped inside. The woman paused and her eyes narrowed slightly at the scene in front of her.

“I thought I told you to come alone,” the woman said in a British accent, directing her statement at Mariner.

“And you are…?” Rutherford prompted.

“Petra Aberdeen, xenoarchaeologist,” the woman introduced herself.

“Like I said: old friend,” Mariner explained. “Used to work in intel like us.”

Rutherford arched an eyebrow. “Intelligence to archaeology? That’s a pretty big career change.”

Aberdeen chuckled lightly. “Not really. The only difference is that, in archaeology, all the people who cared about keeping the secrets you’re digging up have been dead for a thousand years. Most of the time, anyway.”

Aberdeen’s smile faded during the last sentence and she directed her gaze back towards Mariner.

Mariner answered Aberdeen’s unspoken question. “They’re investigating what happened to the Cerritos too. You can talk in front of them.”

“If you say so,” Aberdeen replied, eying Idari suspiciously for a moment before launching into her story. “I was just on Veloz Prime.”

Rutherford’s eyebrows furrowed again. “Veloz… that’s on the Cardassian side of the DMZ.”

Aberdeen smiled slightly. “Archaeology knows no borders.”

“Maybe not,” Rutherford conceded. “But the Cardassians sure do. How’d you get across without getting spotted?”

“I didn’t,” Aberdeen responded. “Cardassian border guards are overworked and underappreciated. A small gift goes a long way.”

“And why were you going there?” Rutherford continued his line of questioning.

“To look for an ancient artifact created by a long-dead civilization that may have had a colony on that world,” Aberdeen explained. “But that isn’t important. What is important is that, just as I was about to leave, my ship suddenly detected a weak transmission on a Starfleet frequency.”

Aberdeen reached into one of her jacket pockets and produced an isolinear chip. “This is everything I was able to record.”

Mariner took the chip and moved over to a console, where she slotted the chip in and tapped a few buttons. The Baissac’s co*ckpit was promptly filled with the sounds of staticky voices.

“—transmitting, but it won’t take them long to detect it,” a male voice warned in a hushed tone.

Rutherford didn’t recognize the voice, but Mariner obviously did. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath.

“Let’s hope someone’s listening,” a female voice replied in an equally quiet tone.

Mariner gasped. “Mom?!”

“This is Captain Carol Freeman of the USS Cerritos,” Freeman’s recorded voice continued. “Serial number DL-813-961. Survivors from my crew are being held—”

Freeman’s voice was cut off by a loud pop and another burst of static. The recording ended and silence filled the co*ckpit.

Mariner turned to Aberdeen with a fierce look in her eyes. “Where did this signal come from?” she demanded.

“I couldn’t get a fix on the source,” Aberdeen replied apologetically. “But considering how much interference the planet’s ionosphere creates, it must’ve come from somewhere on the surface.”

“We need to mount a rescue mission,” Mariner forcefully asserted.

“With what?” Rutherford challenged. “Command will never authorize an incursion into Cardassian space when all we have is one recording that we can’t even prove is authentic. Especially not at the same time our fleets are staring down the Consortium. Even if we could get a rescue mission approved, Veloz Prime is a big planet, and we have no idea where to look.”

“None of this makes any sense,” Idari interjected in a bewildered tone. “How could the Cardassians have captured survivors from the Cerritos? The battle site was nowhere near the Cardassian border!”

“It’s close enough for the recording to be real,” Rutherford pointed out. “At high warp, Veloz Prime is about twenty standard hours from where the Cerritos was destroyed. And there have been rumors about a Cardassian blacksite inside the DMZ.”

“I’ve heard those rumors too,” Idari acknowledged. “But the Inquisition has never been able to confirm it exists. Even if it does, that still doesn’t explain how the Cardassians traveled from the battle site to Veloz Prime without anyone noticing them.”

As if on cue, Rutherford’s implant popped up a notification in his vision, informing him that the Popov had finally completed indexing the Project Onyx data.

“Maybe the answer has something to do with Project Onyx,” he speculated aloud. “The indexing just finished.”

He moved over to a console and tapped a few buttons to establish a link between the Baissac’s computer and the Popov’s.

“Computer,” he began. “Summarize Project Onyx.”

The computer bleeped affirmatively in response. “Project Onyx: a device capable of concealing a starship or station from all known forms of passive and active sensor scans.”

“You mean… a cloaking device?!” Rutherford asked disbelievingly as the four of them shared stunned looks with each other.

“That is correct,” the computer affirmed.

“Was the project successful?!” he queried in the same tone as his previous question.

The computer bleeped in response. One of the screens changed to show a video recording, and the four of them crowded around it to get a better look. There were no people visible in the recording, just a small ship in a hangar. The architecture of the hangar strongly resembled what Rutherford had seen at Barnes’ estate, leading to the obvious inference that this was Barnes’ personal ship, sitting in the hangar that he and Idari hadn’t visited.

“Project Onyx, test number forty-seven,” Barnes spoke from off-camera. Her voice was followed by the sounds of buttons being pushed.

The ship shimmered for a moment, as if they were looking at it through the surface of a wavy pool of water, and then disappeared entirely.

“Computer, execute sensor scan, full battery,” Barnes’ voice continued. “Is there currently a ship in this hangar?”

Barnes’ computer bleeped in response before replying in its male baritone. “No ship detected.”

The image of the empty hangar froze as the video playback ended. A moment passed in silence as Mariner, Idari, and Aberdeen shared stunned looks with each other. But Rutherford just blinked as all the pieces fell into place.

“Of course,” he breathed. “It all makes sense now! The Cardassians are behind this whole thing!”

The other three turned to him questioningly, and he realized he might need to explain the logical leap he’d just made, especially since Mariner and Aberdeen lacked some of the knowledge that he and Idari had acquired.

“Think about it,” he began. “First, the Cardassians hire Barnes to build the perfect cloaking device. Not only does that let them move around undetected, it also allows them to achieve total surprise in every battle. So they hatch a plan. They modify their weapons to look Consortium-y, then wait for an isolated Starfleet ship to pass near the Consortium border. They attack the Cerritos and destroy it, making it look like the Consortium did it. Then, when the Federation doesn’t immediately strike back, the Cardassians decide one ship isn’t enough. They modify their weapons again – to look Federation-y this time – and attack the Sk’Ott.”

Idari’s eyes widened as the realization hit her. “They’re trying to start a war!”

“Exactly,” Rutherford affirmed. “They’ll let the Federation and the Consortium slug it out. Then, after we’ve weakened each other enough, they’ll attack us both. And neither of us will be able to stop them. It was the perfect plan… except for one thing.”

Idari nodded in understanding. “The cloaking device is flawed. The tetryon spike gives it away!”

“Barnes must’ve thought the spike was random,” Rutherford hypothesized. “Just like the Cerritos and the Sk’Ott did. But it’s actually caused by the cloak itself!”

“We need to get this intel to our governments,” Idari asserted. “Right now.”

“No,” Mariner immediately objected. “We can’t. If we do, the Cardassians will kill my mom and everyone else from the Cerritos!”

Aberdeen nodded in agreement. “Starfleet Command leaks like a sieve. If you send this up the chain, the Cardassians will get wind of it. And you don’t have enough evidence to prove all of this. So while the admirals and the politicians are debating about what to do, the Cardassians will be destroying every shred of evidence that it’s true. Including any survivors.”

“She’s got a point,” Rutherford reluctantly agreed. “The sensor logs prove that a cloaked ship was in the area before the battles, but we don’t have data from during the battles. Which means that all we can prove is that the Cardassians were in the area at the time, not that they were the ones who attacked either ship.”

“You know what would prove they attacked the Cerritos?” Mariner asked rhetorically. “Rescuing the survivors.”

Rutherford’s eyebrows furrowed and he scratched his chin as he began to strategize. “We can get past their patrols easily enough. But once we’re in orbit, there’s no way they won’t detect us. They’ll send warships, and they’ll get on subspace with our superiors, demanding to know why we’re in their space. We won’t have much time, and we don’t know where the blacksite is.”

“Sure we do,” Mariner replied. “Or we will.”

Rutherford co*cked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Come on,” Mariner scoffed, rolling her eyes. “A blacksite that’s definitely there, yet nobody can find it? It’s almost like it’s hidden by a cloaking device.”

“Even if you’re right,” Idari countered. “The tetryon spike isn’t constant. It probably happens at regular intervals. We’d have to wait for it and hope it shows up before any warships do.”

“It’s worth the risk,” Mariner argued.

The others were silent for a moment as they debated internally.

Mariner sighed and continued. “Look, you guys don’t have to help me. Just let me keep the Baissac and send me the data on the tetryon spike so I know what to look for. I’ll go in alone, and if it doesn’t work, Starfleet can just tell the Cardassians that I’m a rogue operative.”

Rutherford was quiet for a moment longer before making his decision.

“No,” he said firmly. “We’ll go together. We’ll have a better chance of finding the spike if we have two ships scanning the planet from different orbits.”

A relieved look appeared on Mariner’s face. “Thanks, Rutherford. I… I promise I won’t forget this.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Rutherford replied evenly. “There’s a pretty good chance we’ll both end up dead or court-martialed.”

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” Aberdeen interjected, turning to Mariner. “Good hunting.”

“Thanks, Petra,” Mariner said. “I owe you one.”

The archaeologist left the ship, and Rutherford turned to Idari.

“You don’t have to be a part of this either,” he reminded her. “I can drop you off in Consortium space before I head to Veloz.”

“No way,” Idari instantly refused, with a determined look on her face. “If there are survivors from the Cerritos, there could be survivors from the Sk’Ott too, and it’s my duty to rescue them. Besides, we haven’t stopped the war yet, which means the mission isn’t over, and I never leave a mission unfinished. I’m in this with you, all the way to the end.”

“Okie-dokie,” Rutherford replied, and an equally determined look came over his face. “Let’s do this.”

Rutherford and Idari returned to the Popov, and both ships set course to Veloz Prime. As the Popov jumped into slipstream, Idari turned to Rutherford with a pensive expression.

“There’s one part of this that’s still bothering me,” she began. “It all fits together, except for the assassins. It would make sense if the Cardassians sent them, but only if the Cardassians knew about the investigation.”

“Yeah, there has to be a mole,” Rutherford grimly agreed. “And I’m pretty sure the problem is on my end, not yours. Both sides knew about the investigation, and both sides knew we were on Zavorno. But you didn’t tell your superiors we were going to visit the Cerritos wreckage, and the tech that the Zavorno assassins used looked like a Starfleet design.”

“To get all that info and designs for classified prototypes… the mole must have a lot of access,” Idari noted in a concerned tone.

“One problem at a time,” Rutherford said, refocusing on the more immediate task. “Open a channel to the Baissac.”

Idari tapped a few buttons on her console and a screen on Rutherford’s left came to life, showing Mariner seated in the pilot’s chair of her own ship.

“We’re almost at Veloz. Ready?” Rutherford asked.

“Ready,” Mariner confirmed. “After we drop out of slipstream, I’ll take up position on the far side of the planet and start scanning.”

Rutherford nodded and tapped some buttons on his console. “Approaching the planet. Slowing to impulse.”

The two ships dropped out of slipstream and entered into orbit above Veloz Prime, exactly as they’d planned. A few moments later, Idari’s console bleeped at her.

“The colony is hailing us,” she reported.

“Don’t answer them,” Rutherford instructed. “Cardassian colonies this small only have short-range weapons. As long as we don’t fly directly overhead, they won’t be able to target us. Anything on long-range sensors?”

Idari tapped more buttons and scrutinized the scan results for a few moments before replying. “There’s a Cardassian patrol nearby. Three Hideki-class ships. Looks like they’ve seen us. They’ve changed course and they’re inbound at high warp.”

“How long until they get here?” Rutherford asked.

“About twenty minutes,” Idari informed him.

Rutherford turned towards the screen that was showing the Baissac’s co*ckpit. “Hear that, Mariner? If we haven’t found anything in twenty minutes, we’ll have to break off. We’re no match for three Hidekis.”

“We’ll find something,” Mariner stated confidently.

Twelve minutes passed in tense silence before Idari’s console bleeped at her.

“Got it!” she announced. “The blacksite is on an island in the southern hemisphere.”

Rutherford’s fingers flew across his console and he could see Mariner doing the same. “Adjusting orbit to match.”

The Popov drifted into orbit over the blacksite and Rutherford tapped some more buttons to bring up a visual on one of his screens. Predictably, there appeared to be no artificial structures on the island.

“Anything on sensors?” Rutherford asked Idari.

Idari shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Then we’ll have to use our phasers to disable the cloak,” Rutherford concluded.

“Where should I aim?” Idari asked uncertainly.

Rutherford gave a slight shrug in response. “Your guess is as good as mine. We don’t know the size of the facility or the layout. We’ll just have to hope we don’t hit any of our own people.”

Idari nodded. “Okay. Here goes!”

Rutherford held his breath and watched as a trio of short phaser blasts impacted different locations across the island. For a moment, it seemed like they’d missed. But then he spotted the wavy water effect as the cloak failed and the facility shimmered into view.

He hurriedly tapped some more buttons on his console to scan the facility. “Looks like you took out one of their power generators. I’m not seeing a defensive grid at all. I guess they never expected anyone to be able to target them.”

Mariner was equally busy. “Scanning now… I’m picking up nineteen non-cardassian lifesigns. Lowering shields for transport.”

Rutherford watched as Mariner finished tapping buttons. Mariner swiveled around in her chair as the transporter engaged and numerous people wearing Starfleet uniforms materialized in the co*ckpit.

“Mom!” Mariner launched herself out of her chair and threw her arms around her mother, giving Freeman a tight hug. The older woman looked worse for wear. Her face sported multiple cuts and bruises, and her uniform was torn in several places.

“Beckett?” Naturally, Freeman was surprised to see her daughter.

Rutherford’s console bleeped at him, showing an incoming transmission from B. He quickly tapped a few buttons to accept the transmission and forward it to the Baissac. The screen showing the other ship’s co*ckpit rearranged itself into a split-screen, with the Baissac on the left and B on the right.

B was sitting at his desk and he looked furious. “Rutherford, I just got a call from the President asking why two Starfleet ships of unknown design are in orbit around a Cardassian planet. Their ambassador is livid! What the hell are you doing?!”

“Sorry, sir,” Rutherford apologized. “But this was the only way to get proof. The Consortium didn’t destroy the Cerritos. The Cardassians did. We just freed almost two dozen survivors.”

A stunned look appeared on B’s face. “What?!”

On the Baissac, Mariner and Freeman had broken their bug. Mariner sat down in the pilot’s chair and Freeman moved to stand behind her. The older woman grimaced as she bent over slightly and leaned in towards the screen.

“It’s true, Les,” Freeman said.

B did another double-take at the sight of Freeman on his screen. “Carol?! Is that you?”

“Alive and well,” Freeman replied. “Though most of my crew weren’t so lucky. We were attacked by a pair of Galor-class destroyers equipped with some kind of sensor jamming technology. They came out of nowhere, and we were already crippled before we even realized we were under attack!”

“And that’s not all,” Rutherford added. “Someone on our side has been feeding the Cardassians information about the investigation. Idari and I were attacked by assassins when we investigated the Cerritos, and again on Zavorno.”

It was an overwhelming number of revelations, but this wasn’t the first time B had been in such a situation. His brow furrowed and he scratched his chin confusedly as he tried to make sense of what he’d just been told.

“But… that doesn’t make any sense!” he thought aloud. “The only other person who knew you were on Zavorno was…”

B’s eyes widened and his hand fell away from his chin as his head snapped around to look at something off-screen.

Then a phaser blast hit him from the direction he was looking at. He didn’t even have time to scream before he was completely disintegrated. Rutherford, Idari, Mariner, and Freeman all gasped.

A few moments later, a figure in a red Starfleet uniform walked in from off-screen, with a phaser in hand. The killer calmly set the phaser down on B’s desk before casually depositing himself in B’s now-empty chair.

Ensign Bradward Boimler smugly smirked at the four of them across the subspace link before finishing B’s last sentence. “Yeah. Me.”

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Rutherford was the first to recover from the stunning turn of events. “Boimler?! It was you?! Why?!”

Boimler sighed dramatically as he began tapping away at B’s terminal. “I always wanted to be captain of my own ship someday, you know? But it’s hard to be captain of a ship when you can’t even get on a ship. All those transfer requests I put in kept getting refused. Starfleet just kept shuffling me from one meaningless Earth-bound assignment to the next. No matter what I did or how hard I worked, Starfleet didn’t care. Even when I finally impressed B enough to put me in for a promotion, they shot that down too.”

Boimler finished whatever he was doing on B’s console and looked straight into the camera with a smug look on his face. “Everyone thought I was just this klutzy idiot. But now you know the truth: I outsmarted all of you. And someday, everyone else will know it too.”

By this point, the others had recovered from their shock, and Mariner now had an irate look on her face.

“Like hell they will,” she angrily retorted.

Boimler continued to gloat. “And how are you going to stop me, huh? I’ve just told the whole Federation that your ships have been stolen by Maquis terrorists. You’re totally locked out of the Starfleet network now. Nobody’ll respond to your hails. Every ship and station in Federation space will open fire on you the second you enter weapons range. In a few hours, the Federation and Consortium fleets will be tearing each other apart. I, meanwhile, will be on my way to a well-deserved holiday on Cardassia Prime. Unlike Starfleet, they’re very appreciative of everything I’ve done for them.”

“You son of a bitch!” Mariner violently exclaimed. “I’m going to find you, and when I do, I’m going to feed you to an Armus! You hear me?!”

In response, Boimler treated them to several seconds of maniacal laughter, then terminated the transmission. They all sat there in silence for a moment.

“f*ck,” Rutherford swore, as the lightbulb finally went off. “I can’t believe it was him! I bet he even suggested targeting the Cerritos in the first place!”

Mariner, who was visibly struggling to contain her fury, let out a growl before finishing Rutherford’s train of thought. “Because he knew my mom was on it, and that I’d fly off the handle and make the situation worse. And he was right.”

Idari gently interrupted their conversation. “Look, I know you’re all pissed at this Boimler guy right now, but we can’t focus on him. We still have a war to stop, remember? We need to contact both of our governments and show them the proof that the Cardassians were behind everything that’s happened.”

“Yeah, but how?” Rutherford asked frustratedly. “You heard what Boimler said. We’re locked out of the comms network now, so we can’t talk to anyone!”

Mariner’s fingers began dancing across her console. “We’ll have to do this old-fashioned way. The Federation Council has to be in emergency session by now. I’ll fly straight to Earth and land right on the f*cking lawn in front of the Council chambers. Deliver the proof in person.”

“And how are you going to pull that off?” Rutherford asked skeptically. “Slipstream will get you into orbit, but the planetary defenses will cut you to ribbons before you even hit atmosphere.”

Mariner finished typing on her console and smirked. “Not if they can’t see me.”

As she spoke, a transporter beam appeared behind her, depositing a large, intricate-looking, cylindrical device on the deck.

Rutherford’s eyes widened. “Wait, is that…?”

“The cloaking device that the blacksite was using,” Mariner confirmed. “It looks intact. We just need to figure out how to integrate it with the Baissac’s systems.”

“I’ve got just the man for the job,” Freeman stated, then turned to face the rear of the ship and raised her voice. “Billups!”

A man in a yellow uniform pushed his way through the crowd of survivors that Mariner had beamed on board. “Captain?”

Rutherford’s eyebrows went up slightly as he recognized the man’s voice from the recording that had led them to Veloz.

Must be one hell of an engineer if he was able to cobble together a subspace transmitter from whatever he could find in a prison camp.

Freeman obviously thought so. She gestured to the cloaking device. “This is the device the Cardassians used to evade our sensors. Can you connect it to this ship?”

An incensed look appeared on Billups’ face. “Excuse me?! You expect me to take a totally unknown device made by a foreign military and just plug it into a Starfleet ship?!”

Freeman was taken aback by Billups’ exasperated tone. “Uh… is… that a problem?”

Billups scoffed dismissively. “Please. I’ll have it ready in five minutes.”

Rutherford turned to Idari. “That takes care of our side, I hope. What about yours?”

Idari made a thoughtful noise. “Well, we’re locked out of the Federation’s subspace network, but not the Consortium’s. If we just fly to the Consortium border, we can cut the Federation relays out of the equation and interface directly with a Consortium relay.”

“Makes sense,” Rutherford agreed. “I’ll plot a course.”

His fingers flew across his console as Idari’s console bleeped a warning.

“Those Hidekis just dropped out of warp,” Idari informed him.

“Time to go,” Rutherford commented, turning towards the screen that showed the Baissac’s co*ckpit. “Mariner, good luck.”

“You too, Rutherford,” Mariner replied. “Baissac out.”

The transmission ended. Rutherford hit the last few buttons in the sequence, and the Popov jumped to slipstream, leaving the Hidekis in the dust.

Rutherford turned to Idari. “I didn’t want to bring this up in front of the others, but… how confident are you that you can get the Consortium to stand down? I mean, this is a decision that the Empress herself will have to make. Are you sure this intel will get to her in time?”

Idari froze. She seemed to be debating how to answer his question, and there was a long pause before she swiveled her chair to face him.

“That… won’t be a problem,” she said in a vulnerable tone, almost like she was afraid of disappointing him. “I, uh… I have a direct line to the Empress… because my last name isn’t Idari. It’s… Tendi.”

Rutherford’s eyes nearly fell out of his skull. “Wait… as in, ‘Mistress of the Winter Constellations,’ heir to the Consortium throne D’Vana Tendi?!”

“Yes,” Tendi replied meekly. “I’m Empress Shona’s oldest daughter.”

Rutherford blinked as he struggled to process the revelation. His mind quickly latched on to an obvious question.

“And they just… send you out into the field on dangerous missions?!” he blurted incredulously.

“Like I told you before: it’s tradition,” Tendi explained. “Inquisitors are responsible for defending the monarchy from all threats, and they’re also the main instrument by which the Empress exercises her power. So it’s essential that the Inquisition is completely loyal to every Empress. The next Empress always serves as an Inquisitor before taking the throne, in order to build her reputation with the other Inquisitors that she’ll eventually command.”

“So that’s why the Consortium is so secretive about the royal family,” Rutherford breathed.

“Yes,” Tendi confirmed. “And it’s why I have the Idari alias.”

Rutherford was quiet for a moment as he thought back on all of the conversations they’d had over the previous day. It seemed so obvious in hindsight, and part of him felt like he should’ve realized sooner. It also led him to another deduction.

“But you don’t want to be Empress.” It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Tendi admitted with a sad sigh. “Leadership doesn’t come naturally to me, and I’ve never been interested in politics or diplomacy. I’d rather be out exploring the mysteries of the galaxy. But… Empress is the role my people need me to play, so that’s who I’ll be.”

Rutherford co*cked an eyebrow at her. “Couldn’t you just… I don’t know, abdicate?”

Tendi shook her head. “The rules of succession are strict and the line is deliberately narrow to prevent attempted coups. After a new Empress ascends to the throne, only one of her descendants can become the next Empress. So even though I have some cousins, none of them can become Empress. And my sister… you remember the conversation we had during breakfast? She agreed with all of that even more strongly than I do. A couple years ago, she announced that she refused to ‘enable the monarchy to continue’ and disappeared. Inquisitors have looked far and wide for her, but nobody has ever found her.”

“So… if you don’t take the throne, there’s nobody left,” Rutherford summarized.

“Exactly,” Tendi confirmed. “The last time that happened was centuries ago, before the Federation even existed, and it triggered a bloody civil war that went on for most of a decade. Almost a hundred million people were killed.”

She paused for a moment and gave Rutherford a resolute look. “I have a lot of problems with the way the Consortium works. But I won’t let that happen again.”

Rutherford felt his heart clench. He’d only known her for a day, and yet he felt a deeper connection to her than people he’d known for years.

“Carrying the weight of a whole civilization on your shoulders…” he commented softly, gazing into her eyes. “I can’t even imagine how much pressure that must be.”

Tendi returned his gaze, shrugging slightly in response. When she spoke, her voice was as soft as his had been. “It’s been that way my whole life, for as long as I can remember. I guess… I’ve just gotten used it.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he replied, still in a soft tone. “You deserve better.”

His right hand reached up on its own accord to gently cup her chin, and he tenderly ran his thumb along her jaw. Her lips parted slightly, but no words emerged. She began leaning towards him, and he found himself doing the same, as if pulled by a magnet. He came just close enough to feel her breath on his face when his console suddenly bleeped at him, and the spell was broken. Both of them pulled back and turned to face their consoles once more.

Rutherford felt his cheeks heating up as he cleared his throat. “We’re approaching the border. Dropping out of slipstream.”

“Right,” Tendi replied with a tiny but noticeable tremor in her voice. “I’ll, uh, get us hooked into the Consortium comm network.”

Meanwhile, on Earth…

San Francisco was having a sunny day, with only a handful of clouds dotting the sky. It was a sharp contrast to the apprehensive mood of the security officers standing watch outside the Federation headquarters building.

An hour earlier, the President had called the Federation Council into emergency session to vote on a formal declaration of war against the Orion Consortium. As a precaution, Starfleet Security had established a perimeter in a two-hundred-meter radius around the building. Large crowds of demonstrators had quickly formed, some protesting against the vote while others were in favor of it. So far, the demonstrations had been peaceful, but Starfleet’s finest were on alert and ready for anything.

Lieutenant Jet Manhaver had been assigned to the inner perimeter and was standing on the steps that led to the building’s main entrance, holding his phaser rifle at the ready. The whine of an impulse engine reached his ears, soft at first but quickly growing louder. He looked out over the empty patch of grass at the bottom of the steps and frowned confusedly.

He turned to the andorian ensign who’d been assigned as his partner for the day. “Hey, Sh’reyan, you hear that?”

She looked as confused as he was. “Sounds like a shuttle engine, but I don’t see any—”

The words died in her throat and her jaw dropped as a runabout-sized ship shimmered into view on the grass in front of them. It looked like a Starfleet design, but she’d never seen it before.

Manhaver was equally stunned, but his training kicked in and he quickly tapped his commbadge. “This is Lieutenant Manhaver! Security breach on the front lawn! We need reinforcements out here now!”

“Where the hell did that come from?!” Sh’reyan wondered aloud as she and Manhaver fell back into defensive positions, using the building’s marble pillars as cover.

They leveled their phaser rifles at the unknown ship as a hatch on the side of it slid open. Two human women promptly bolted out of it, sprinting straight towards the stairs. The younger woman was dressed in casual clothing, while the older was wearing a command-division Starfleet uniform and looked injured.

“Hold it right there!” Manhaver bellowed, aiming his rifle at them.

The pair stopped dead in the tracks and raised their hands.

“I’m Lieutenant Beckett Mariner, Starfleet Intelligence,” the younger woman replied with an urgent tone in her voice. “We have vital information about the destruction of the Cerritos. You have to let us through!”

Sh’reyan pulled out a tricorder and scanned them while doing her best to keep her rifle trained on the unexpected visitors.

After a few moments, she looked over at Manhaver. “Her identity checks out.”

Behind her, the reinforcements that Manhaver had called for poured out of the building, ready to shoot.

But Manhaver lowered his rifle. “Stand down! Let them through!”

Mariner and Freeman resumed their sprint up the stairs and into the building.

“Coming through! Make a hole, people!” Mariner shouted as she and her mother ran through the corridors. Bewildered bystanders hurriedly leapt out of the way to avoid being trampled.

The duo arrived at the Council chamber. The doors barely had time to slide open as they burst through onto the legislature’s floor, a large cylindrical room that was several stories tall and had a wide, open space in the center. A vulcan councilor was standing at the lectern in front of the semi-circular table where the president, several Starfleet admirals, and numerous other councilors were seated. Above them, hundreds of other councilors were spread across the other floors of the room. The vulcan paused his oration and arched an eyebrow as everyone turned to look at the new arrivals. Indistinct murmurs filled the chamber as the councilors tried to make sense of the sudden interruption.

But the murmurs quickly died down when Admiral Alonzo Freeman, seated next to the president, stood up and nearly sprinted over to his wife and daughter.

“Carol?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Alonzo,” his wife breathed as he quickly pulled her and his daughter into a hug.

The vulcan councilor at the lectern afforded them a few moments before clearing his throat.

“Captain Freeman,” the vulcan began. His eyebrow was still arched. “You and your crew were believed to be dead. Please explain how you escaped the destruction of your ship.”

“I was captured after the battle… by the Cardassians,” Freeman explained, raising her voice so more of the chamber could hear her. “The Cerritos was destroyed by two Galor-class warships equipped with cloaking devices. We think they’re trying to start a war between the Federation and the Consortium. They’ll wait for us to beat each other to a pulp, then swoop in and mop up what’s left.”

The words came as a shock to the councilors. Audible gasps and more indistinct murmuring erupted.

“That is unlikely,” the vulcan countered dismissively. “The Vulcan Science Directorate has determined that cloaking is impossible.”

“Yeah?” Mariner retorted smugly as a snarky grin appeared on her face. “Well, ‘the Vulcan Science Directorate’ might want to go talk to the security officers who just watched a ship decloak on your front lawn.”

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Rutherford was alone in B’s office, in front of the desk, numbly staring at the empty chair on the other side. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, motionless, when he heard the door behind him swoosh open. He didn’t turn around as footsteps approached and eventually came to a stop beside him.

“I just… I can’t believe he’s really gone,” Rutherford said quietly. “I keep expecting him to walk in through that door and ask for a debriefing.”

Mariner gently laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. She felt vaguely guilty, as if this were somehow her fault. As though the universe had dictated that someone had to die, and by rescuing her mother, she’d doomed the closest thing Rutherford had to a father.

“He didn’t die for nothing,” she gently informed him. “The President and the Empress are talking. Both sides have turned their fleets away from the border. The Cardassians aren’t going to get their war.”

Mariner’s hand fell away as Rutherford sighed dejectedly and finally turned to face her. “What about Boimler?”

“We found him,” Mariner replied in a firmer tone. “He used a false identity to board a civilian transport bound for Cardassia – a ship called the Cassiopeia. It’s still in Federation space, traveling at warp.”

“Good,” Rutherford said, his tone hardening. “They can send someone to intercept it and arrest the bastard.”

“They already have,” Mariner confirmed. “But there’s a problem. The news about the Cardassians broke before our ship got there. Boimler realized his plan had failed and that Starfleet was on to him. So he hijacked the Cassiopeia. Now he’s holding the other passengers hostage. He says he’ll release them unharmed after he gets to Cardassian space. But if any other ship comes within a lightyear of the Cassiopeia, he’ll kill them all.”

“We can’t just let him get away,” Rutherford adamantly protested. “Even if he hadn’t killed anyone, he’s still a traitor. And he was B’s assistant. With what he knows, the Cardassians could cripple our operations! Kill dozens of agents!”

“I know,” Mariner replied. “Command knows it too. But the President won’t approve any plan that doesn’t save the hostages.”

Rutherford racked his brain, trying to come up with a solution. After a few moments, a lightbulb went off and a determined look appeared on his face.

“Come on. I have an idea.”

Several hours later, Rutherford was seated in the pilot’s chair on the Baissac, looking out the forward window as the stars streaked by and they closed in on the Cassiopeia from behind, using conventional warp engines instead of slipstream for once. He and his two teammates had swapped their casual civilian clothing for Starfleet’s standard-issue all-black covert ops gear.

Mariner, seated in the co-pilot’s chair, tapped a few buttons on her console. “You know,” she began conversationally. “You never did tell us what L said about this plan.”

“She thinks we’re insane,” Rutherford flatly answered.

A surprised look appeared on Mariner’s face. “Whoa, she actually said that?”

“Well, no,” Rutherford admitted. “But it was implied by the way she raised her eyebrow.”

Mariner’s face went from surprised to quizzical. “So, what did she actually say?”

“That this has never been tested, but the simulations say it should work… for a second or two, anyway.”

Tendi, seated at a console behind him, joined the conversation in an upbeat tone. “Lucky for us, a second or two is all we need!”

Rutherford had dropped the orion operative off in Consortium space before returning to Earth. But when he’d hatched his plan to capture Boimler and rescue the hostages, he’d immediately known he wanted her on the team. His insistence on involving Tendi had raised Mariner’s eyebrows, but he didn’t care. After Boimler’s betrayal, he was wary of involving other Starfleet Intelligence agents in this operation, unsure whether any of them were also secretly working for the Cardassians. Most people would have called him paranoid. He called it a necessary precaution.

Tendi, for her part, had agreed to his unusual request without hesitation, as he’d known she would. There was no way she would ever abandon hundreds of helpless civilians. And when they’d parted ways many hours earlier, he had easily discerned her reluctance to leave. They hadn’t talked about it, but he knew why: although they’d achieved their mission objective, the mission felt incomplete with Boimler still out there.

There was probably also another reason she hadn’t wanted to leave. The same reason he hadn’t wanted her to leave either. It was a foolish idea, and he was doing his best to squash it every time it popped into his mind.

“The Cassiopeia’s shields are up,” Tendi informed him.

“As expected,” Rutherford commented. “Computer, divert power from tactical systems to the MEP.”

The computer bleeped affirmatively. “Power diverted. MEP at maximum capacity in fifteen seconds.”

The three of them waited tensely while the device charged. When it finished, Rutherford tapped a few buttons to activate it and accelerate the Baissac forward. The Baissac had just barely passed through the Cassiopeia’s shield bubble when he heard sparks fly from somewhere behind him, and Mariner’s console bleeped an alarm.

“The MEP just overloaded!” Mariner reported urgently.

“What about the cloak?” Rutherford asked anxiously.

He heard Tendi tapping buttons on her console, and a moment passed before she answered. “Stable. Zero fluctuations. There’s no way he detected us.”

Rutherford let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding.

Chalk one up for L. Her prediction that the MEP would fry if we activated it at the same time as the cloak was right on the latinum.

But they weren’t out of the woods yet. Rutherford had decided against using the transporter to board the Cassiopeia. The transporter cycle would take several seconds, during which his team would be defenseless. So even if they beamed directly into the Cassiopeia’s bridge, Boimler would still have time to react to their sudden appearance. It probably wasn’t enough time for him to kill the hostages, but if he was armed, it might be enough time for him to kill Rutherford’s team.

Rutherford tapped some more buttons. “Moving us in.”

The tension in the co*ckpit thickened as Rutherford maneuvered the Baissac closer to the Cassiopeia.

“Twenty meters,” Mariner reported, keeping an eye on her console while Rutherford focused on flying the ship. “Fifteen… ten… five… two meters…”

Rutherford winced slightly as the Baissac landed atop the Cassiopeia with a barely audible thump.

I really hope Boimler didn’t hear that.

“Contact,” Mariner finished unnecessarily.

“Time for phase two,” Rutherford declared.

The three of them stood and headed to the armory, where they each hooked a phaser and tricorder onto their belts. Then they turned to a small, duranium-grey case that sat prominently atop the workbench. Rutherford leaned over slightly to tap a button on the side of it, releasing the clasps with an audible click. He lifted the case’s lid, revealing three metallic gloves inside.

“Are you sure these things even work?” Mariner asked uneasily as the three of them each took a glove and fitted it onto their hand.

“They worked well enough for the assassins who came after us on Zavorno,” Tendi informed the other woman.

L had confirmed that the phasing gloves used by the assassins were indeed an L Branch prototype that was still in lab testing. She’d been displeased to discover that her design had been stolen, and even less pleased when Rutherford had unilaterally declared the design ready for field use and asked her to manufacture more of them. But the urgency of the situation had forced her to grudgingly accede to his request.

The three agents returned to the co*ckpit and stood in the middle of it, placing them directly above the Cassiopeia’s bridge.

“Ready?” Rutherford asked the other two.

Mariner and Tendi nodded in response.

“On three,” Rutherford continued. “One… two… three!”

They all simultaneously tapped the button on their gloves to activate them, and instantly began to fall through the bottom of the Baissac’s hull, pulled downwards by the grav plating underneath the deck of the Cassiopeia’s bridge. The power cells in the gloves lasted a mere 900 milliseconds. At one g of acceleration, it was just barely enough time for them to completely phase through the hulls of the two ships and land inside the Cassiopeia’s bridge.

Since the Cassiopeia was a civilian ship rather than a Starfleet vessel, its bridge had a significantly different layout. The small, circular room had only one door, which was closed. A round table displaying the ship’s schematic sat in the center of the room. Several terminals and chairs were positioned around it.

One of those chairs was occupied by Bradward Boimler, who had his feet kicked up on the center table. He was taking a sip from a fruity-looking drink with an umbrella and a straw in it when his unexpected guests suddenly fell through the ceiling. Boimler spit out the liquid and let out a high-pitched yelp as he flailed, spilling his drink while reaching for the phaser sitting next to him on top of the center table. But his uncoordinated movements meant that he instead knocked the phaser off the table, sending it flying through the air.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Rutherford’s implant detected the threat and delivered a jolt of adrenaline. In under a millisecond, it calculated everything he needed to know about the situation.

The phaser was armed, and tuned to a high setting.

In 1.226 seconds, it would hit the deck.

The impact would cause it to discharge a shot.

The angle of the blast would hit Tendi squarely in the chest.

Unless he shoved her out of the way.

If he was being honest with himself, there wasn’t even a decision to make.

As Mariner began rushing towards Boimler, Rutherford threw his weight to his left, crashing into Tendi and knocking her out of the line of fire. Tendi lost her balance and began to fall as Boimler’s phaser hit the deck. A beam lanced out from it and Rutherford felt a searing pain across his abdomen and chest.

Time seemed to resume its normal flow as Rutherford landed on his back with a thud. His implant kicked into action, doing its best to dull the agony, but the pain from the wound was still excruciating. All of the strength in his body dissipated in an instant, and all he could do was let out a pained groan as he tried to control his breathing.

His head lolled to the left. Mariner had closed the gap and tackled Boimler before the other man could recover, leaving Boimler flat on his back with Mariner’s weight pinning him to the deck. With a furious look on her face, Mariner gripped Boimler’s shirt with her left hand and pulled his upper torso slightly off the deck. At the same time, she curled her right hand into a tight fist, and began pummeling the former ensign’s face.

“Rutherford?” Tendi’s confused voice reached his ears from somewhere he couldn’t see, along with the sounds of her picking herself up off the deck.

“Rutherford!” Her voice was much more alarmed now. Clearly, she’d just seen the state he was in.

Her face appeared above him on his right as she scrambled over and pulled out her tricorder. Rutherford could feel wetness seeping into his clothing beneath him, and realized he must be bleeding profusely.

“Mariner, Rutherford’s hit!” Tendi exclaimed as she scanned him.

The words snapped Mariner back to reality and she froze mid-swing as she looked over at Rutherford and Tendi. Her eyes widened and she unceremoniously dumped the now-unconscious and very bloodied Boimler back on the deck with a thud. She stood and moved towards Rutherford, then knelt on his left across from Tendi.

“It’s even worse than it looks,” Tendi said in an intense tone as she finished the scan and looked up at Mariner. “We need to get him to a medical facility now!”

Mariner leapt into action, turning to one of the bridge consoles. She tapped a few buttons and Rutherford felt the Cassiopeia drop out of warp. Then she rushed over to Boimler and latched onto him with her left hand while tapping her commbadge with her right.

“Computer, four to beam aboard,” Mariner ordered.

The ceiling of the Cassiopeia’s bridge faded away and was replaced by the ceiling of the Baissac’s co*ckpit. Tendi immediately stood and sprinted towards the rear of the co*ckpit, disappearing into the corridor beyond.

“Computer,” Mariner continued. “Disengage the cloak and set course to the nearest surgical facility. Maximum slipstream velocity.”

While the computer processed her command, she hoisted Boimler off the deck and began carrying him towards the rear of the ship, presumably planning to secure him in the empty bunk room.

“Course plotted to Starbase 192,” the computer replied, and Rutherford felt the Baissac jump into slipstream. “Estimated flight time: four minutes, seven seconds.”

A few moments later, Tendi reappeared, sprinting back into the co*ckpit with a medkit in hand. She knelt beside him as she opened the kit and began doing her best to triage his injury with the limited supplies inside. Rutherford was fairly certain that she was wasting her time. It was getting harder to breathe, and his vision was already greying at the edges.

“Why did you do that?!” Tendi exclaimed. Her voice had a hint of anger in it, but mostly, she sounded terrified.

“Because of what you said at breakfast,” Rutherford replied weakly. “All that stuff about how messed up orion society is, and how there’s no excuse for it… that wasn’t just talk, was it?”

It wasn’t a question. They both knew the answer. But Tendi obviously hadn’t been expecting him to respond like that, and she met his gaze with a wide-eyed look as she applied pressure to his wound, trying to stanch the bleeding.

“Someday, you’re going to be Empress,” Rutherford continued, wheezing every word. “And you’re actually going to fix all that, and the galaxy will be a better place because of you.”

Tears welled in Tendi’s eyes and a lump formed in her throat as the pieces clicked together and she realized why he’d just saved her life. It wasn’t because she was the future Empress, or because they’d slept together the previous night, or even just because Rutherford was a nice guy who put other people before himself.

No, he’d jumped in front of a phaser for her because he believed in her.

Rutherford coughed weakly, and he felt himself spit up some blood. The look on Tendi’s face grew more alarmed, and he knew she was about to tell him to stop talking and conserve his strength. He doubted that would make any difference and continued speaking anyway.

“But me?” he asked rhetorically, in a defeated tone. “I’m just a spy. I don’t have any family left. Even Les is dead. Nobody’ll miss me.”

Rutherford’s vision continued to dim as tears began to roll down Tendi’s cheeks.

“That… that’s not true!” she sobbed. He felt her take his right hand in hers and intertwine their fingers before squeezing tightly. “I’ll miss you. So, just… stay with me, okay? We’re going to get you to the Starbase and you’re going to be fine!”

Her voice seemed to get further away with every word she spoke, and Rutherford found himself unable to muster the strength to say anything in reply. He distantly heard her shouting his name as the darkness claimed him.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Rutherford woke slowly. Sunlight was already streaming in through the windows, but he didn’t open his eyes as he lazily rolled onto his side and reached across the bed. Finding nothing, he frowned slightly and opened his eyes, which confirmed that the other side was empty. But the frown only lasted a moment, reversing into a smile as his eyes drifted upwards and he spotted a bikini-clad D’Vana outside on the beach with her back to him, kneeling as she did something in the sand.

Two weeks had passed since their mission to retake the Cassiopeia. Rutherford still wasn’t sure how he’d survived that. He had a vivid memory of seeing a giant, smiling koala that had said something incomprehensible to him, but his doctors had dismissed that as a hallucination triggered by random neurons firing while he was on the brink of death.

When he’d awoken in the medbay on Starbase 192, he’d found D’Vana sitting in a chair beside his bed, reading an engineering manual to him. He’d asked what she was doing there, and she’d told him that she’d be looking after him until he was fully recovered, claiming that she owed him for saving her life. He’d instinctively wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to do that, but her tone had brooked no arguments.

Besides, they both knew that wasn’t the real reason.

Ten days had passed on the starbase before his doctors decreed that he no longer needed to be in a medical facility and could continue his convalescence somewhere else. He wasn’t sure how, but that “somewhere else” ended up being a small, glass-enclosed house on a private beach in Hawaii.

Rutherford slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, then made his way over to the dresser. He donned a fresh pair of boxers and a t-shirt, grimacing in pain as his body protested every movement. His doctors had warned him not to engage in any “strenuous physical activity” when they’d discharged him, but last night, he’d “persuaded” D’Vana to ignore that advice. Now he was paying the price for that. He turned his head and spent a moment admiring her figure through the window.

Totally worth it though.

He yawned as he padded out of the bedroom into the main room – an open-plan living room, dining room, and kitchen. He sat down in an oversized chair and picked up a PADD that was sitting on the table beside it, then tapped a few buttons. The PADD came to life, showing the Federation News Network logo and playing FNN’s usual jingle before cutting to a denobulan news anchor.

“The stardate is 58124.6, and this is FNN,” the anchor began as a graphic showing the Federation and Consortium flags appeared beside her head. “Our top story: today is day three of the war against the Cardassian Union. Fierce fighting continued across the entire border yesterday as Federation and Consortium fleets sought to break through Cardassian lines. At a press conference earlier today, Fleet Admiral Edward Jellico announced that allied forces had seized control of the Chin’toka system.”

The broadcast cut to recorded footage, with Admiral Jellico speaking from a lectern. “Chin’toka is a vital system for the Cardassians, and taking it is a major victory for us. But let me be clear: the Cardassian military is not in collapse. We still have a lot of fighting ahead of us.”

The screen cut back to the denobulan anchor. “In related news, Federation and Consortium diplomats met on Bajor for the sixth straight day, continuing their efforts to formalize a military pact. Details remain scarce, but reliable sources tell FNN that the negotiations have gone smoother than expected, and both governments are considering a second summit to negotiate a free trade agreement. If successful, it would be the first ever economic treaty between the Federation and the Consortium.”

The graphic beside the anchor’s head was replaced by the Klingon Empire’s flag. “Meanwhile, the Klingon Empire announced that it would remain neutral in the current conflict. Yesterday, Chancellor Kurn received representatives from the Federation and the Cardassian Union, who each argued for the Empire to join the war on their side. But after several hours of deliberations, the Chancellor released a statement declaring that the Empire would not aid the ‘dishonorable p’taks’ on either side.”

The graphic beside the anchor’s head was replaced yet again, this time by a picture of Boimler. “Also yesterday: former Starfleet Ensign Bradward Boimler was arraigned and charged with multiple counts of treason, murder, kidnapping, and theft. If convicted, he will spend the rest of his life in a maximum-security prison.”

Rutherford’s mood began to darken at the mention of Boimler, but the broadcast was abruptly interrupted before the emotion could take hold. The PADD paused playback and popped up a notification of an incoming transmission from Orion. Rutherford’s eyebrows furrowed. The notification didn’t say who was on the other end, but did make clear that the caller was trying to reach him specifically, not D’Vana. Curiosity prompted him to tap the accept button.

The notification and the broadcast disappeared, replaced by the no-nonsense visage of Empress Shona. Rutherford’s pulse jumped, instantly erasing the lingering remnants of his lethargy, and he instinctively sat up straighter in the chair.

“Empress Shona,” he greeted in a surprised tone.

“Agent Rutherford,” she neutrally responded. “I’ve reviewed my daughter’s report about your mission together. It’s clear to me that she might very well be dead right now if not for your actions on the Cassiopeia. I wanted to personally thank you for saving her life.”

“I just did what I thought was best,” Rutherford said modestly.

Shona had no visible reaction to his statement and continued speaking as if he hadn’t said anything. “I also wanted to inform you that, as part of our new alliance, the Emerald Inquisition and Starfleet Intelligence are planning a series of joint covert actions aimed at undermining the Cardassian military. D’Vana has insisted that you be assigned as her partner.”

Rutherford blinked. D’Vana hadn’t mentioned anything about this, but it was a pleasant surprise. The idea that they’d be together, working side by side, for an indeterminate amount of time triggered a rush of warm, fuzzy feelings that he still didn’t dare to label.

“I see,” he replied, doing his best to keep his expression neutral and his tone professional. “My doctors tell me it’ll be at least another week before I can return to duty. But D’Vana and I make a great team. I’m sure we can handle whatever assignments come our way.”

Shona’s eyes narrowed slightly and a moment passed before she spoke again, this time in a very blunt tone. “Agent Rutherford, let’s speak plainly. It hasn’t escaped my notice that your relationship with my daughter is not purely professional.”

Rutherford was suddenly very conscious of the fact that the t-shirt he was wearing did absolutely nothing to hide the hickey that D’Vana had given him the previous night, and that the Empress could undoubtedly see it, given the angle he was holding the PADD at.

“Do you know what a moopsy is?” Shona continued in a perfectly calm voice.

Rutherford swallowed thickly. He’d run into one of those terrifying creatures a few years ago, and if he ever saw one again, it would be too soon. “Um… yes?”

Shona leaned forward slightly and looked him straight in the eye, as much as she could through a subspace link. “If you do anything to hurt my daughter, I will ensure that you have a very unpleasant encounter with one. Do I make myself clear?”

The absolute calm in Shona’s voice was intimidating, and Rutherford did his best to keep his cool. “Perfectly.”

Shona leaned back and gave him a tiny smile. Rutherford felt like he’d just passed some kind of test.

“Good,” Shona replied in a more pleasant tone. “I wish you a speedy recovery, Agent Rutherford.”

Shona disconnected the call, and the PADD switched to the “transmission ended” screen. Rutherford let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding and continued staring at the PADD for several moments as he collected his thoughts.

I’m dating a spy. A spy from a sometimes-rival government. Who also happens to be the next leader of said government. Whose mother is the current leader of said government. In the middle of a war. Can we really make that work?

His musings were interrupted by the sound of a door sliding open. He looked over to find D’Vana walking in from the beach, carrying a large pile of seashells in her arms. She already had a smile on her face, but it widened further when she saw him sitting in the chair.

“Oh, good, you’re awake!” she said excitedly as she carefully deposited the seashells on the kitchen counter. “You can help me analyze all of these crazy things I found outside! I wonder if there’s a multispectral scanner around here somewhere. I have so many tests to run!”

Rutherford’s lips curved into a smile without him even thinking about it.

Of course we can. As long as we’re together, we can do anything.