The Vendetta (Open)

[Malcolm Adeyemi]

[Senior Officer's Quarters]

"=/\=Computer, make it fifteen degrees cooler in here. And for God's sakes dim these lights."

The Discovery's computer chirped in silent obedience and did as it was bid. When he heard the environmental system kick in and he wasn't squinting against the bright light, Stafford could breathe easier.

Crane, Stafford's Siamese cat, was stretched out languidly onto his console. The counselor glanced at the animal and coolly said, "You've got five minutes, buddy, and then I need my seat back." The cat did not deign to reply.

He stripped off his gloves and his boots, frowning at his reflection in the mirror. He felt out of place with no uniform nowadays. The recommendations from Starfleet was for ship's counselor to appear comfortable and approachable. He supposed a one piece black jumpsuit, gloves, and boots wasn't exactly what they had in mind, but he'd be damned if he was going to dress himself up like a fop just for this assignment.

Where is the cup? Stafford wondered. He'd had a special leather cup replicated recently, completely authentic and medieval per the Federation's archives. It made his nightly drinking feel more like a valued ritual than just getting tipsy.

The cup was right where he'd left it. "=/\=Computer, Stafford Nutraloaf Meal Supplement, number...13."

The replicator twinkled the decanter of red wine into existence. Stafford was no engineer or smuggler, so the only thing he could do to obtain real alcohol on the Discovery was to supply the materials and program the replicator. It had meant he had had to come up with the most unappetizing title for his drinks. He couldn't imagine anyone ordering this particular meal, given the description.

The wine was in the cup without him having realized he'd poured it. Legs braced wide, he tilted his head back and let the liquid flow down his throat. The wine was sour, bitter, thick as mud, so dark it was almost black, but God it tasted good.

With most of the drink drained, he brought the decanter and leather cup to his console, shooing away Crane. The light beige and dark brown furred cat had positively huge ears, like miniature sails,. They served to make his face seem smaller and cuter, and the startlingly pale blue eyes, almost white, even more striking. Crane made an annoyed sound and padded off to find somewhere equally comfortable.

"=/\=Computer, call up my appointments for tomorrow." It was time to refill his wine.

As the machine displayed his list of patients, Stafford allowed the alcohol to settle into his stomach, felt it's soothing fire coat the edges of his empty belly. A smile reached his lips.

"=/\=Warning, life support failing." The light blue lights indicative of such an error flashed on every console in the room. "=/\=Life support will be depleted in 30 seconds."

He nearly knocked over the desk in such a rush to get to the door. The wine spilled over the console, the leather cup forgotten.

Thank God, Crane had taken the opportunity to curl up in front of the door. Stafford scooped him up with one arm and barreled at the door so fast it hardly had time to open.

[NPC Post Á¢â,¬"œ Naban Rouse, Rutian Ansata Freelance Terrorist]

[Heavy Escort and Surveillance Vessel Reckoning, Bridge]

Naban Rouse looked up from the console that he had been peering at for what seemed like hours. He stood, slow and strong and massive, a scarred man, the loose fitting robes he wore not able to conceal the powerful frame hidden underneath.

There was silence on the bridge, his similarly garbed crew glancing at one another knowingly. The tension in the air seemed to crackle between their looks as the fear on their faces began to spread.

"Why was Stafford's door not secured?" Rouse's voice was that of a learned man, his diction precise and clipped, like a genteel military officer's. But the great hands, facial scars, and the wide shoulders bespoke of a bruiser, an enforcer, a brutal man. His professors back home had called him an intellectual roughneck. A man who could break your back and earn top scholastic marks doing it. Was it so much to ask that he be served by men and women of the same ilk, or at least approaching it?

"The Discovery's computer is far more complex than any we've encountered before, Colonel," A fellow Rutian answered, using Rouse's old military rank. "The operatives might haveÁ¢â,¬""

"They did, Number One. They did. And whose job was it to brief and train the operatives on the Discovery's computer system?" Rouse had walked to his first officer and stood in front of the man.

The Rutian stood, whether out of instinct or respect, he would never get to tell. "I-It was me, sir. I trained them, but there's no reason why--!"

Rouse's hand shot out with such explosive violence and speed that they could have been the period on his first officer's exclamation point. The force of the hands wrapping around the throat served to stun him; when Rouse began to close his great hands and choke the fight was all but over.

When it was done, Rouse gently laid the first officer down onto the deck, brushed his hand over the characteristic gray streak in the dead man's hair.

The bridge crew was staring at him in fascination. Rouse cleared his throat and straightened his great body.

"I want Stafford and the other Discovery crewmembers we've been paid to take care of killed or captured." Rouse said to them all, the only other sound the muted instruments on the bridge. "We have a dozen operatives on the vessel. Deploy them all. Make sure they are utilizing the new dimensional shifting devices."

"But, Colonel, won't theÁ¢â,¬"" A science officer spoke up.

"Unless this Stafford is an utter fool he or the other Discovery crew will figure it out, anyway. Don't worry about leaving a trace now, our cover is already blown. Just do the job. Strike, fast and quiet. I want those targets destroyed or on this ship within the hour."

[Malcolm Adeyemi]

[Engineering]

"I am sorry to disappoint, Mr. Stafford, but no loss in life support has been reported." Lieutenant Sharma said. "If life support had failed in your quarters the computer would reflect that."

"It's Á¢â,¬ËœCommander'," Stafford replied, working hard to keep his anger in check. "If you had seen me as a patient I'd know it, lieutenant. And I'm not lying to you."

"I did not say you were lying, commander," Sharma was also trying to keep things civil. "I simply cannot verify what you are saying with what the computer is telling me."

"So there were no malfunctions? No errors? No anomalies?"

"I do not deal with anomalies, sir. Only facts. The computer is telling me the environmental systems are operational." Stress or anger had resuscitated Sharma's Indian accent. "If you like, I can run a diagnostic on the entire system..."

"No, no." Stafford was suddenly conscious of how he appeared. He was out of uniform, standing there in his socks, clutching a cat in the middle of main engineering and smelling of wine. "Thank you for your help, lieutenant. I did not mean to offend. I'm just...rattled, is all."

Sharma's dark eyes softened and he gave Stafford a searching look. "If you were not the ship's counselor I'd tell you to see the ship's counselor. Maybe you need some rest, commander."

"Yes, I think you're right. Thanks again."

God Almighty, what was he thinking, going to main engineering in this state? Stafford walked rapidly toward the turbolift, suddenly aware of the looks he was receiving. Crazy cat counselor.

[Stafford's Quarters]

He peeked into the room before entering it. There were no flashing blue lights, and the atmosphere seemed perfectly intact. Sighing, Stafford knelt, let Crane wriggle forth from his grasp and go about his feline business.

It stank of wine and his own fear. Stafford grabbed a towel and began swabbing the sticky wine all over the console. I'm going to need a new one of these for sure. Good thing synthehol smells exactly like the real thing.

There was a crackle of energy in the air, a strange sound, and Stafford felt himself being clutched from behind. A pair of arms and a body tackled him to the deck, knocking him painfully against his desk in the process.

Stafford was almost completely immobilized. He managed to wriggle an arm free but could only flail backwards at his assailant. A knee collided painfully with his thigh, and booted feet were attempting to pin his own to the ground, the tread on his enemy's footwear grinding painfully against his feet. Stafford screamed in pain, fear, and rage.

His eyes were filled with pale cream fur, and a sibilant hiss reached his ears. There was the unmistakable sound of a perturbed cat and he heard a man grunt in annoyance.

It was just enough for him to roll and face his foe. A Rutian man was wiping away at his forehead with his right hand while trying to activate some device at his belt with his left.

With no hesitation Stafford punched the man in the crotch.

As he wriggled up and stood, Stafford recalled what hand to hand training he'd received at Basic and the Academy. His instructors had all been adamant on one notion: never kick. There are 100 different things an enemy can do to you with your leg in the air, and 99 of them kill you. Never kick! Never kick! NEVER KICK! they had screamed over and over again.

Stafford kicked the man in the face. His heel collided solidly with the fellow's cheekbone, snapping his head back and throwing the fellow to the ground. The blow was such that if he'd been wearing boots he may have permanently damaged the man's face.

He skipped over the man, dodging when the Rutian tried to grab at his feet, and was surprised when his door didn't open. It was that that made Stafford realize that the life support failure had not been his imagination.

Where was his commbadge? Stafford frantically tapped his chest and then his pockets.

"I've got it here." The Rutian coughed and stood, and produced the little Starfleet symbol. He then produced a tiny phaser from his belt. "This is set to kill, my friend. Don't make me use it."

"Bet you want to, after you I punched you in the balls."

"Keep talking. You're worth as much to me dead or alive." The Rutian had a lined and aged face, but his body was lithe and muscular, as if he'd acquired the wrong head somewhere.

"Want to tell me what this is all about?" Stafford probed. He'd been in hostage situations before. He remembered how Archangel and he had met. He hoped his calmness unnerved his captor.

"Do me a favor, put your hands behind your head. Now kneel. Good. Head down, eyes on the deck. Excellent. The more you comply the easier this will go for you all." The Rutian sat at Stafford's desk, tapped away at the messy console.

"Stafford's acquired. Rally point is his quarters. Acquire or destroy targets and rendezvous here for retrieval."

He's got a comm., and he's got a friend. Or friends. The counselor glanced up and saw Crane licking his paw. Thanks for your all your help, buddy, but I don't think you're going to get me out of this one...

[Malcolm Adeyemi]

[USS Discovery - Bridge]

"Commander, the sensors are detecting a series of unusual energy build ups in various areas of the ship," the operations crewmember said. "Main engineering. The shuttlebay. And in several crew and officer's quarters."

"What is the nature of this energy?" the Charlie Shift commander asked. He was in actuality only a lieutenant, but was addressed by his title rather than rank when heading up a shift.

"Unknown, sir. A dozen distinct energy signatures. They appeared briefly, and...now they're gone."

"Analysis?"

"The computer is having difficulty interpreting the energy signature, sir. It's unlike any we've ever seen before."

The watch commander stood and straightened his uniform. "Get engineering and science teams on it. Wake Alpha Shift, if you have to."

"Understood. I'll sound Yellow Alert."

"No," the watch commander said firmly. "Not until we've encountered an overt threat. For now, get those energy signatures squared away."

[Reckoning Á¢â,¬"œ Bridge]

"Colonel, one of the operatives indicates the Discovery has detected the dimensional shift energy signatures. They're dispatching teams to investigate."

"Excellent," Rouse leaned forward, forearms on his thighs, and studied his monitor. "More movement means more confusion."

"There's a problem, colonel." A science officer said. "The nature of the new dimensional shifting device utilizes a collective efficiency principal. As in they work better when they work together."

Rouse let the comment hang in there air. In a moment or two the tension grew and tightened on the bridge. He had never been able to inspire anyone with his leadership or wit. Rouse relied on their fear. Of his fists, and his mind.

"...meaning one device is barely enough to shift two individuals. The operatives stand a better chance of collecting all of the captives in one place to shift successfully." The science officer's voice was full of trepidation.

"Are our people aware of this?"

"Yes, colonel."

Rouse leaned back in his chair, cracked his knuckles. The stakes had been upped. The chance of a dozen operatives rounding up the number of targets in one place was chancy at best.

"Order them to use their best judgment. They know which targets are high stakes and which are not. They are not to sacrifice the high value targets for any lesser ones."

"Yes, colonel!"

[Ilana Telak]

[Senior Officer Quarters]

Ilana lay stretched out on the rock she kept in her quarters, snoozing contentedly under her heat lamp.  The humans kept the ship so cold.  For a humanoid with cold-blooded ancestors, that was pretty dire.

Since she had the bad habit of working herself into the ground, she barely stirred as the door into her quarters slid open.  Fortunately, the weeper plant that had been a gift from Raynor started shrieking at the intruder.  The sound of the plant in distress was enough to rouse Ilana from her sleep.  Spying two humanoids in the dim red light from the heat lamp, she scrambled off the rock, heading for a nearby table where she had left her commbadge.

One of the intruders got there first, swiping the badge out of her reach just before she could get to it, swiftly backhanding the Cardassian, sending her crashing down to the deck, dark blood streaming from her nose.  The impact dazed her briefly, keeping her from getting back to her feet for a handful of precious heartbeats.  Thankfully, Sasha sensed her owner's distress.  The huge burmese python rose up, striking one of the intruders and quickly wrapping her long, powerful body around him, constricting as she went.

The second intruder ignored his comrade's plight, focusing on binding Ilana while she was down.  She tried to fight back, but her weak, skinny frame was easily overwhelmed.  Her hands were bound along with her ankles before she was dragged out of her quarters.

[Stafford's Quarters]

Ilana's captor easily tossed the Cardassian down next to the counselor before he went to join the Rutian at the console.  "I got the Cardassian," he reported, "but Samson was taken down by a serpent of some kind in her quarters."

[Malcolm Adeyemi]

[Stafford's Quarters]

When the Cardassian CMO was unceremoniously dumped into the room Stafford glowered at their two captors. Ilana Talek was a shy soul, a gentle sort. He wondered what the purpose of their enemy was. Hadn't the Rutian said he was being paid?

"Rouse won't like trouble with the local wildlife, but in this case it made us all a bit more money. One less person to share the bounty with."

"If you like, I can go back, make sure he's finished off?"

"Do it. Remain out of sight."

When the Rutian who had captured Ilana departed, the one remaining turned to look at them both. Idly, he began to toss his sidearm into the air, and catch it nimbly.

"In a way, the two of you are lucky. If the boss himself had been on this little jaunt you'd've been treated much more roughly. Or if he was the one who wanted you...eesh, I can't even imagine."

The fellow caught his weapon a final time and leaned over in his seat, pointing it vaguely at the pair.

"What did you people do to deserve all this?" He asked. "They don't tell us anything, and you'll soon be dead, anyway. What horrible sins from your past made someone hire us to catch you?"

Stafford didn't have the slightest idea. He turned to Ilana and raised his eyebrows slightly. Maybe she knew.

[Ilana Telak]

As the two Rutians discussed their fallen comrade, Ilana felt a surge of fear for the giant python in her quarters.  However, if they were only concerned with making sure that their comrade was dead, then Sasha should be safe, she reasoned with herself.  She would have made the kill, sniffed it, then probably just slithered away without eating her prey.

Turning her attention to the Rutian who had stayed behind to make sure that his captives weren't going anywhere, she blinked a few times as he asked what they had done to deserve being hunted down like this.  She shrugged one shoulder.

"I am a C-C-Cardassian r-r-refugee.  I c-can g-g-give y-you a l-l-list of p-p-people wh-who w-w-would l-like m-m-my h-head on a p-p-platter."

[Malcolm Adeyemi]

"Sounds like my kind of gal," The man said with a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes. He jabbed his sidearm at Stafford, laughing when the counselor flinched.

"What about you? Got any enemies?"

"Two," Stafford replied dully. "You and your friend."

"Oh, when you get where you're going, buddy, you will wish to whatever gods you believe in that you were back in my warm, loving embrace."

"I hope they're paying you well."

"Very well. If you're good at something, never do it for free." The Rutian's smile lent a youthful air to his aged face.

"What if I told you I could pay you more?" Stafford asked.

"Your kind don't believe in money. You're always out to better yourselves by worsening the situations of others."

"And all I want in return is for you to guarantee the crew's safety."

The Rutian rolled his eyes. He aimed the weapon. "This is on wide beam setting. That means it'll destroy you both with one push of a button. You'd better start making sense, counselor."

"I can give you this ship."

[Ilana Telak]

The Cardassian narrowed her eyes at the Rutian as he implied that her status as a refugee from the Cardassian Union was a good thing.  To her, it was perhaps one of the worst things to have happened to her.

She listened to the banter going on between Commander Stafford and the Rutian, committing the conversation to memory.  It was a useful trait that most Cardassians had: an absolutely stellar memory.  Her jaw dropped as she heard Luke offer the Rutians the ship.  She brought her bound legs up, kicking him sharply.

"Y-y-you w-will d-d-do n-no s-s-such th-th-thing!"

[Malcolm Adeyemi]

Ow, dammit! What was it with women hitting him all the time? Archangel had done it a time or two in this situation before. Stafford gave Ilana an under the eyebrows look. She doesn't understand the big picture. No surprise there.

"Ignore this cow's mooing," Stafford said, earning a look of ire from Ilana and a confused one from the Rutian. The counselor delighted in using down home colloquialisms with aliens; it always bewildered them.

"Why do you think I would believe such an outrageous claim such as that, Stafford?"

"The Discovery is going into permanent space dock after this mission. Cashiered. Finished. Eventually she'll be scrapped. So this vessel is nothing to me. But the lives of my people are far from it."

"State your piece." There was mistrust in those brown eyes, in the lined and wasted looking face, but hunger, too.

"Instead of you bringing us back to your boss, you bring the Discovery. Imagine the look on his face. What you are all being paid cannot possibly be worth the price of so much Federation technology and weaponry."

"Your technology isn't all that great."

"Rutia is of a level with us, true enough," Stafford answered smoothly. "But the Ansati are not."

Realization dawned in the man's eyes.

"Imagine it..." Stafford scooted closer to the man, who didn't object. "A fully armed to the teeth Akira class carrier. Torpedoes. Phaser arrays. Shuttles. Warp drive."

"Our ship has warp."

"Not like this it doesn't I can guarantee you that."

"We don't have the crew to man such a vessel." The Rutian protested.

"Then hire more, you'll have no shortage of funds. Or use your state of the art communications equipment to hail some of your compatriots."

The man studied them both for a long time, considering. Finally, he stood, and gestured at them with his weapon.

"Stand up, we're leaving. Have either of you ever experienced a dimensional shift before?"

"Where are we going?"

"You two are going to meet the colonel."