S2 - M9A - Katra - Snake in the Garden

[Paul Wessex]

Everything had moved far too quickly and far too negatively in the last few moments that Wessex wondered if he was, somehow, caught in some vivid dream, or had been the victim of some bizarre holoroom malfunction where some scenario was chaotically playing out and a chance neuroleptic shock had wiped his memory of the fantasy.

It was surprising how many times that seemed to happen in Starfleet. NavPat, their subs not being nearly as expansive as starships, had far less sophisticated - but rather more reliable - holosuites that events would be-

The ponderings were cut short as, in the midst of the general alert lighting, he spotted some Security personnel glancing at round, tapping combadges and looking a little fraught. Around them all were merchants and clientele, trying their best not to look panicked - indeed, they looked almost well-rehearsed; Paul briefly came to the conclusion that this station had been through a lot, civilians included. If he came out of this day in one piece, he'd have to look into Katra's history files.

Nevertheless, it was clear some direct leadership was needed. "You and you" he pointed to two Security Constables, while maintaining his firm grip on Tulra; she, interestingly, had been somewhat quiet and not very resistive to her apprehension...in both meanings of the word. "Organise personnel into teams and assist the civilians - whatever they need; priority to those with children who may need reassurances."

Tulra then spoke up, her eyes betraying some fiery bewilderment. "Seriously?"

He ignored her, and one of the Crewmen - Henry Lattimer, Paul seemed to recall, whilst simuateously cursing the lack of name-tags on uniform - replied. "Aye sir. Do you know what the situation is?"

Giving them information on what he knew would only distract from their task, so he opted for the alternative. "Afraid not" Paul called back as he continued to make his way to the security office. He briefly considered bringing those colleagues with him, but the populace needed reassurance more than he needed reinforcements...at least right now. He hoped that wouldn't be a fatal mistake, "but since the station isn't shaking, it's probably just a systems malfunction". The last word was conveyed in a manner that carried another meaning like a shark beneath a strong wave - silent, and unnoticed, but very likely to singularly grab your undivided attention once you knew it was there.

"You could have taken that chance to get away" Paul pointed out to Tulra, conscious that although he had some nominal grip on her, she could quite easily break that grip and escape, knowing his desire to head to the security office was of greater priority than chasing her back down.

But she laughed, perhaps coldly. Certainly without optimism. "Believe me, right now I'm safer with you than out here on my own."

At that, Wessex wondered just what organisation she was wrapped up in.

Arriving at the security office, Paul put his finger to his lips. A hand gesture was displayed in response, and Paul had to grin, despite the situation, at that. She was quite the tempest. Even so, he repeated his signal, a little more forcefully and this time - without a digital retort, but the rolling of eyes - she acquiesced. Leading her to one side, he opened a small door which led to a small interview room. Her mouth opened, about to loudly complain, but he stuffed her inside and quickly, and quietly, closed it, the soundproofing having to work for its credits as the silently displayed actions therein would make a dockyard master blush.

But she was safe, and he needn't have one hand dedicated to keeping her secured.

Inching forward, Paul's eyes scanned ahead of him, looking for any signs of intruders or danger. He saw nothing down the short corridor, but neither did he spot any signs of his colleagues who would be otherwise a flurry of activity during the alert.

Recognising that this would be one of the few times he'd legitimately felt justified for doing so, Paul drew the small Type-I phaser from the small of his back, and ensured it was set to incapacitate and continued in. Just this corner, and then he'd be in the staff back-office...

A greyish hand sprang out, faster than he could react, and grabbed his wrist. The small phaser scuttled out of sight. I need to get a bloody wrist strap for that, he inexplicably thought, as he recalled this being the second time his weapon had been knocked from him. But then, using the weapon at such a short, intimate range would have carried a higher chance of killing the target than would have been acceptable to him.

That was the first of two similarities. The second, and perhaps more salient, was that he was again being picked up a Nausicaan. "I think you've been looking for me" came the gruff voice. Around the room there were signs of a great upheaval or struggle. A desk had been ripped from his moorings and flung to the side. Items of various description strewn around, but yet he saw no sign of his co-workers.

Through the painful grip, Paul managed to get out a witty retort, if only to keep himself conscious. "By the authority permitted to me by StarFleet Security and Katra Station, I am taking you into custody to-"

In one swift move, he was brought towards the chest of the ridiculously sized, and somewhat well-dressed, Nausicaan and then back into the wall with a crunch. Paul followed this with a knee to where he hoped the vital aspects of the alien physiology were located, but his assailant, while grunting with undisguised discomfort responded by throwing him, full bodied, over to the opposing wall.

Paul landed with a painful impact, the wind knocked out of his sails, which became virtually becalmed when he saw the prone bodies of  Yelmetrei, Warrington and Trenvale crumpled around him. They didn't look permanently down, but neither did they look in any position to awake and give him a hand.

Speaking of hands, as Paul used his to start to get to his feet, fingers trailed the foiled-wrapped neck of an unbroken bottle of tulaberry wine, spilling from a box that looked to still be complete...

[Tess tLhoell]

Cmdr. Tess t'Lhoell (7 months pregnant)
[Meridian Planet - Kir'Shara outpost - Sickbay]

After she had given her orders and waited for probably replies from either of the persons she had contacted, Tess then contacted the command center of the Kir'Shara to change to Yellow Alert for now. On the outpost down her condition red had been set off as well, but Tess didn't see the necessity to stay on Red Alert down here, but staying alert was the wise option.

Once that was done, Tess turned back to Ensign Ta Li Yo-Na. It needed another deep breath to clear her mind to be able to focus on the task at hand. But there was no denying she was tensed up and she prepared having to leave on short notice to take care of matters on the spot and not from down here.

"Found anything, Ensign?", Tess asked hopefully.

[Solluk]

Katra Station - Turbolift Shaft One

Noh'ves tapped his badge and then heaved himself up the access ladder, grunting as he climbed the shaft as quickly as possible.

"Rargh!  Acknowledged, Commander.  Tolec is a trusted man, but if you could continue to monitor the situation from Kir'Shara and add any advice, it will help.  You are more familiar with the station than he is."

In the background, Vilka could be heard grumbling loudly.

"When I catch the PetaQ who sabotaged the turbolift, I will cut off his-"

The transmission ended before she could complete her sentence.

[Paul Wessex]

It had been some time since she had felt the thrill of combat, so when Senior Chief Petty Officer Veirla Solen signalled to her team outside the Security Office on the Promenade, she was itching and eager to...neutralise...the presumed assailants reported by that new Ensign Wessex.

He was a funny one, that was for sure; seemingly reluctant to use force to resolve a situation quickly and decisively - countermanding her experienced tactical counsel in favour of a touchy-feely approach. Which was fine for her: it made her less of a spare nacelle when things did light up like a core breach - not like when that stubborn old goat was her Department Head, taking the lead, leading the charge, outperforming her in every fashion. No, while Wessex was not her boss, and she did have a responsibility to defer to his commissioned rank where she felt it did not endanger her or the station, when it came to it, she absolutely knew it would be she to put down any insurrect- incursion - instead of any other member of the Security Department.

Flipping her rifle's power-levels to Level 4 (the lowest setting not to bother about stunning the target) she nodded to the rest of the DICE squad and thrust in, weapon forward.

A motion to her left caused her to momentarily flick her eyes over and forward again as her enhanced neurons processed everything seen in that small glance - a female purple-haired Boslic locked in one of the interrogation rooms. As the room could not be opened from the inside, she was classed as a non-immediate threat, and if she did happen to escape, her team would intercept. She would deal with that later.

The Angosian expatriated super-solider therefore ignored the motions within the soundproofed room and continued on. No signs of anything untoward presented itself down the short corridor, so she assumed the main situation would be around the sharp corner.

A crash and a series of thuds came from further inside the Office. Summoning her immense characteristics, Solen accelerated her pace to an astounding level of physicality and rounded the corner like a rumour on a runabout. At the same time, her weapon raised to her eyes and the barrel swept across the scene like a cobra strike.

There, standing over a prone and motionless Nausciaan, was Ensign Paul Wessex, his face marked and perhaps a little swollen. In his hand was a broken bottle, its blue liquid dripping from jagged remains and the air stank of a sweet fruit. Solen lowered her weapon slightly, and the Ensign looked up and grinned tiredly. "The wine went to his head."

At that, he cast the ragged bottleneck aside and turned hurriedly behind him. "Senior, a pleasure to see you - we have wounded here" and the Master-at-Arms followed his path to the corner where some of her Security colleagues lay.

At that same moment, the alarms stopped.

*

Tulra Beecoil was perhaps more forthcoming than even Wessex was expecting. Admittedly, she did not know much, but what she did know both enhanced and confused matters in equal measure.

She detailed the activities of one Daimon Nalg, who was operating a current, but nascent, black market aboard Katra and had been working to unseat Daimon Sorq, the official Ferengi trader on the station.

Tulra admitted it was Nalg that had several paid operatives and informants to report on Sorq's operations. These operatives noticed a pattern of suspicious purchases of footwear.  The footwear being purchased was always the display model, and never the main stock.

So, Daimon Nalg employed the services of an already existing network of young thieves to start stealing the display models ahead of the 'legitimate' purchases, to find out what was special about them. These were then brought to her, as the network's primary fence, and then to arrange their passage to Nalg.

It was only through a chance scan due to the current Medical crises on the station - to ensure the items were not contagious to the very people she was being paid by - that she accidentally learnt that the shoes contained DNA messages in the leather's molecular structure It was a discovery that had singularly betrayed her own vow of not peeking at her client's business; she refused to reveal the content of the message, but it was clear to Paul that whatever it contained terrified her and it was for this reason she delayed sending the item to Nalg.

The two Nausciaans Wessex had the delightful fortune of knowing worked for Daimon Nalg to ensure both the thefts occurred without complication, and then address the matter of failing to hold up her end of the arrangement. The one Paul had put down in the Security Office - and who had ransacked Tulra's shop - was, she imagined, attempting to locate the shoe in advance of...cutting her out...of future activities. Once located, that would be literal. Her back-up therefore was to send the footware to her own contact - whom she had mistaken Wessex for - that had the ear to Solq; once Nalg's activities were thrown open, she had hoped Daimon Souq would reward her decision with his protection.

Thanking her for her time, at present, Wessex arranged for Ms Beecoli to be transferred to an unregistered suite down on Deck 17, with a discrete guard keeping watch for any 'surprise visitors' while Paul drew up the reports to Commander t'Lhoell, Lt Moreno and Lt M'Kai, and made arrangements for Federation Magistrate to oversee her prosecution for trafficking of stolen goods.

The Nausicaan did not speak once throughout his prolonged interview and remained in custody.

Wessex's three colleagues made a satisfactory recovery from their injuries, demonstrating medium neurological disruption from a weapon on heavy-stun from a weapon not gentle with the effects on synaptic pathways and was ordered on medical leave to recuperate.

The assailants outside M'Kai's quarters remained unidentified and opted for quantum dissolution rather than capture.

The subsequent morgue report would conclude Ms Tulra Beecoil died of a hitherto-unknown allergy to a protein in the praxis range that next day.

[Tess tLhoell]

Cmdr. Tess t'Lhoell (7 months pregnant)
[Planet Meridian - Kir'Shara outpost - Laboratory - a while later]

Tess was astounded at what she saw. With the help of Ensign Ta Li Yo-Na they had been able to make something visible that had been hidden the whole time. By overlapping and adjusting the parameters to the quantum level of the individual's brain - which was Dira's in this case - the combined data imaging revealed an eroding of the quantum phase stabilization. The destabilization peaked the second the seizure started and gradually stabilized itself again after that. On the image, the disrupting of them showed as bright spots, almost looking like a short circuit.

Tess' suspicions immediately focused on the transport procedures conducted back then when the Meridians had been beamed up to Katra Station when the planet had been on the verge of being disrupted when shifting into the other dimension. She recalled what Saqa7 had mentioned to her days ago - six of the ten Meridians who had been affected by the seizures had been transported by the FAS 'Rainmaker'. It now was very likely that the Ferengi had not followed proper transport protcols which caused the quantum phase frequency to be wrong - maybe just that the destabilization was negligible at the beginning but grew worse until it released in a seizure. Tess knew from the BCP scans of the Meridians that had gone through such a seizure that the readings became normal again - until it build up too much again to release in a seizure once more.

The contagion could be explained by understanding that the eroding quantum phases affected other indivuals - much like the humming vibration of a wine glass that resonated with a second one and made that too humming eventually.

Tess had noticed that the alert status had been cancelled at some point during her musings. Before she would ask Tolec for an update, she made a call to Engineering to get proof for her theory.

[Solluk]

Katra Station - Reactor Core

Grom had been in the reactor core room when the alert sounded.  Soon, reports came in of sabotage.  He'd dispatched personnel to tend to the sabotage, as well as crewmen with transporter enhancers to bypass any signal interference with the site-to-site transporter emitters.  Now the alert had ended.  Whoever and whatever had endangered the station, it had apparently passed.

Presently, a message came in from the station's XO.  He went to a console to receive her data as she spoke.

Looking at the scans she'd taken, he also brought up the records of the Meridian incident that had brought them permanently into this realm.  He was intrigued.  The Executive Officer of this station had a keen mind, to have put this evidence together.

"Your theory has merit, Commander," Grom said in a flat monotone, "I will perform some computer simulations to confirm.  Meanwhile, I recommend that all Meridians be given Emergency Transporter Armbands with Phase Discriminator modules as a precaution against further phase disruption.

Once my simulations have confirmed the nature of the condition, we may be able to use the transporters to rectify it.  It will take some hours to be certain."

Katra Station - Commanding Officer's Ready Room

"Captain's Log Supplemental...

Shoes.

My security offices were attacked.

My Chief of Security was shot at.

My turbolift was sabotaged.

All because of shoes?

And by Ferengi operatives?

I have read and re-read the interrogation reports, but the answers thus far do not sit right with me.

Fortunately, the threat to the station was not as severe as I'd feared.  Only a handful of criminals accomplished this disruption.

Unfortunately, that means that only a handful of criminals are needed to accomplish widespread station disruption.  This was a demonstration of how vulnerable Katra can be to a small number of infiltrators who prepare and plan ahead.  New protocols will have to be developed to deal with this sort of problem in the future, and I know just the officer for the job.

I have here a second report from a battle-hardened Angosian super-soldier.  A Chief Petty Officer with years in Starfleet service.  She states that Ensign Wessex was not only the man who detected this threat, but also defeated the criminals in hand-to-hand combat before backup could arrive.  These details were understated in her report, mentioned only in passing.  This marks them as the respected observations of a veteran, rather than those of a toady hoping to curry favor with a superior.

I have sent Starfleet Command my field promotion order for Junior Lieutenant Wessex, with instructions that they must immediately confirm it as a permanent rank increase.  This station will need a talented Security Officer to lead the department once M'Kai has departed."

There was a chime at the door.

"Ah.  That will be the representative of the Ferengi who are working at the Meridian embassy.  I had placed a demand for Lieutenant Wessex to conduct interviews with them.  The Meridians finally cleared it through their sluggish diplomatic protocols.  But Daimon Sorq's 'Meridian Management, Inc.' is an independent company, receiving diplomatic protection by contract, but also not directly beholden to the Meridians.

Or so I've been told.  I do not really care about these legal details.  I was going to order M'Kai to make some arrests, but then one of their representatives requested an audience with me to discuss the upcoming interviews.

No doubt another stalling tactic.

The appointed time is now.

End Log."

Rather than call out permission to enter, Noh'ves touched a control under the table and the door opened without further preamble.  The Ferengi standing outside seemed mildly surprised, but quickly stepped inside.

The door closed behind him.

"Greetings, Captain."  The Ferrengi pressed his wrists together and bowed slightly.

Noh'ves grimaced in distaste at the supplicating gesture.

"I am Executive Director Kwist of Meridian Management, Incorporated, a majority-share subsidiary of Sorq Industries."  He glanced at a chair, "May I have a seat?"

"No," Noh'ves answered.

"Oh."  Kwist shuffled slightly, then continued, "I received your request for interviews of my staff at the Meridian embassy.  It occurred to me that this might be related to the recent unrest and arrests?"

Noh'ves stared at the Ferengi, saying nothing for an uncomfortably long time.

"Well... I thought I might be of assistance.  Moreso than you might have imagined in merely speaking to my employees."  Kwist smiled slightly.  Hopefully.  The hope faded as Noh'ves merely maintained eye contact.

"You see, my understanding- rumors really- about this incident is that it started over some shoes?"

Noh'ves listened impassively.

"Um... let me be completely frank."

The eyes.  Those Klingon eyes.

"You see, Daimon Sorq had nothing to do with the shoes..."

They look right into you.

"I can see you're skeptical.  Well, it seems that Daimon Nalg- who has always been jealous of Sorq's exclusive rights to do business in this sector- has a number of operatives on the station.  Operatives trying to interfere with a legal and binding exclusive business opportunity, I might add."

Penetrating Orbs.  Like colored glass, but hard as steel.

"I imagine you must be familiar with intelligence and counterintelligence operations..."

Suddenly, Noh'ves expression hardened further.  That's worse. 

"That is, being a man in your position.  But I digress... Daimon Sorq is always working to ferret out the commercial espionage of Daimon Nalg.  And so, he noticed that there were some purchases being made on the promenade.  Suspicious purchases.  He mentioned these purchases to an underling, and they took it upon themselves- entirely without orders- to steal a few of these frequently purchased products.  The boys in question are prepared to turn themselves in, I'm told.  Although I'm also told no one is pressing charges?"

He smiled, but the smile withered against Noh'ves continued cold regard.

"In any event... you know that Daimon Sorq is on a business trip right now.   But he conveyed instructions to me that a message should be delivered.

As much as we would like to impugn the honor of Daimon Nalg... we have become convinced that he is not behind the shoe debacle.  The methods of encoding are too sophisticated.  The violence is too overt.  It is important that you understand that no Ferengi- not even the contemptable Daimon Nalg-  are behind all of this sabotage, suicide, and attempted murder.

There is something else going on.  As of right now, you have Daimon Sorq's complete support in ferreting out what it is."

Finally, at long last, Noh'ves spoke.

"Your 'support' is immaterial.  I only care about your cooperation.

I already know that Ferengi are too sniveling and cowardly a culture to inspire operatives willing to commit suicide to protect information, or to openly attack station assets.  Only the Hupyrians might be so loyal to their masters, and I see not a single Hupyrian in this entire affair.

Lieutenant Wessex is conducting this investigation.  Even now, he is unraveling the secrets of the shoes.  You will order every Ferengi under Sorq's command to report to him and tell him anything he wants to know, or I will arrest them all under suspicion of espionage."

Kwist smiled placatingly, "Captain, surely such threats are unnecessary.  I have already offered to cooperate-"

"The bigger the smile,"  Noh'ves reached down to his waist and pulled his dagger, laying it on the desktop.  Then he grinned.  A wide, wild grin.  Any sort of grin seemed perversely out of place on his face.  This was the sort of grin a swamp creature might make before it devoured its prey.

Kwist took a step back, and pressed his wrists together, engaging in another bow.

"I will see to Lieutenant Wessex at once.  Th-thank you, Captain."

Kwist retreated, and the door opened to permit him to leave.  Once he was past it, he nearly sprinted for the turbolift, much to the amusement of the observing officers in the Command and Control Center.

[Tess tLhoell]

Cmdr. Tess t'Lhoell (7 months pregnant)
[Planet Meridian - Kir'Shara outpost - Laboratory]

Katra Station - Reactor Core

Grom had been in the reactor core room when the alert sounded.  Soon, reports came in of sabotage.  He'd dispatched personnel to tend to the sabotage, as well as crewmen with transporter enhancers to bypass any signal interference with the site-to-site transporter emitters.  Now the alert had ended.  Whoever and whatever had endangered the station, it had apparently passed.

Presently, a message came in from the station's XO.  He went to a console to receive her data as she spoke.

Looking at the scans she'd taken, he also brought up the records of the Meridian incident that had brought them permanently into this realm.  He was intrigued.  The Executive Officer of this station had a keen mind, to have put this evidence together.

"Your theory has merit, Commander," Grom said in a flat monotone, "I will perform some computer simulations to confirm.  Meanwhile, I recommend that all Meridians be given Emergency Transporter Armbands with Phase Discriminator modules as a precaution against further phase disruption.

Once my simulations have confirmed the nature of the condition, we may be able to use the transporters to rectify it.  It will take some hours to be certain."

Tess felt euphoric. This was as close to the solution of the Meridian illness as they ever were. The whole time they had been focusing on organic and physiological causes - naturally - but this all seemed to make sense. For now it was only a theory and she'd wait keenly to hear back from Grom.  "Understood, Lieutenant. Please make this your priority and keep me posted as soon as you find something. t'Lhoell out."

Tess turned to Ta Li Yo-Na, unable to hide the huge grin on her face any longer. She took a deep breath and it seemed to renew her drive for the day. "Ensign, please contact the Meridians to come here into sickbay and coordinate the distribution of the armbands to them."

[Dr. ta li yo-na]

Cmdr. Tess t'Lhoell (7 months pregnant)
[Planet Meridian - Kir'Shara outpost - Laboratory]

Tess felt euphoric. This was as close to the solution of the Meridian illness as they ever were. The whole time they had been focusing on organic and physiological causes - naturally - but this all seemed to make sense. For now it was only a theory and she'd wait keenly to hear back from Grom.  "Understood, Lieutenant. Please make this your priority and keep me posted as soon as you find something. t'Lhoell out."

Tess turned to Ta Li Yo-Na, unable to hide the huge grin on her face any longer. She took a deep breath and it seemed to renew her drive for the day. "Ensign, please contact the Meridians to come here into sickbay and coordinate the distribution of the armbands to them."

[planet meridian - kir'shara outpost - sickbay]

Ta Li Yo-na was sat in small office off the sickbay looking at the report from the other medical staff. When he had finished reading he leaned into the communication device  "this is dr Ta Li Yo-na please could the meridians attend sickbay"  he said.

The vexed dr sat back and contemplated the idea that this was able to happen and it could happen to him. Waiting for the patients to arrive the dr stood arranging the arm bands ready to give the poor meridians

"ok commander I'm ready have the first person sent through once they arrive"  

Ta Li Yo-na was pleased that they had found a way to help the meridians and was looking forward to relaxing with sapphire and maybe a small adventure in the holodecks

[Solluk]

Kir'Shara Outpost

At a console near Tess, an 'incoming video message' indication flashed on the display.  It was President Tarin.  Someone on the outpost must have routed it to her location.

"This is President Tarin, calling for Commander t'Lhoell.  I've just received a message from my people that they've all been called in for some kind of new treatment.  Have you found a cause and cure?  If so, I must insist that you tell me.  As the leader of the Meridian people, I have a right to know."

He did not mention another factor that might heighten his interest:  that he was also a patient.

[Tess tLhoell]

Cmdr. Tess t'Lhoell (7 months pregnant)
[Planet Meridian - Kir'Shara outpost - Laboratory]

Kir'Shara Outpost

At a console near Tess, an 'incoming video message' indication flashed on the display.  It was President Tarin.  Someone on the outpost must have routed it to her location.

"This is President Tarin, calling for Commander t'Lhoell.  I've just received a message from my people that they've all been called in for some kind of new treatment.  Have you found a cause and cure?  If so, I must insist that you tell me.  As the leader of the Meridian people, I have a right to know."

He did not mention another factor that might heighten his interest:  that he was also a patient.

While the Meridians were seen to with the armbands and Grom was checking their theory, Tess turned to the console when the incoming transmission came in for her. When she saw it was Tarin, Tess mentally braced herself at what was to come when she thought back to the meeting with him and Captain Noh'ves.

After she greeted him, Tess listened to his request to be filled in about the newest developments. "Of course, President. We seem to have found the cause for the illness. Lieutenant Grom is currently checking our theory. We believe that mistakes have been made by the Ferengi that had assisted with beaming some of the Meridians up to Katra Station when the planet was shiftig into the other dimension. It seems to have caused certain parts of their bodies to fall slightly out of phase which caused neural disfunction and the seizures. We are now distributing armbands to prevent that from happening until we have a permanent solution for the problem. Which we are working on right now, as I said." Tess sounded hopeful and positive as she told that to Tarin. "I will be back on Katra shortly and will make sure to provide you with one of the armbands as well, President."

She waited a moment longer to see if Tarin had to say something to that. She then made her way back to the sickbay where Ta Li Yo-Na was distributing the armbands. "Ensign, I will be back on the station now. Let me know how this is going here."

Tess picked up one of the armbands and made her way to the transporter to be beamed up to Katra.

[Katra Station - Deck 11 - Meridian embassy]

On the way to the embassy, Tess had to resist the urge to ask Grom for an update on his findings. Surely he would get back to her as soon as he'd find something out.
Since Tarin was the only Meridian left on the station, the reception are was empty, so Tess went through to the man's office and chimed the bell.

[Solluk]

Katra Station - Meridian Embassy - Presidential Office

"Come in," Tarin's voice carried outside of his office via intercom, inviting Tess to step inside.

"Forgive the lack of reception staff.  I've just cancelled my Ferengi contracts and expelled all Ferengi from Meridian sovereign territory.  Your timing of your arrival is auspicious, Commander.  I'm about to make a speech to the citizenry of Katra explaining the nature of the illness and laying the blame for it- accurately- at the feet of the Ferengi alliance and Daimon Sorq."

He gestured in her direction.  "You'll probably want to join me so that you can corroborate."

He smiled the smile of someone who had just tied up a great number of troublesome threads.

Katra Station - Promenade

The weathered and aged hands of the civilian maintenance technician moved with the practiced experience gained over a long career.  He had been working with the routine technologies of interstellar life for generations.  In times past, they might have called him a 'handy man' or 'custodian.'  Now it was 'civilian maintenance technician,' but while the title had changed, the job hadn't.  He could maintain any of the technologies that comprised Katra's environmental and transportation suites:  Grav plating, air filtration, turbolift systems, lighting.  He'd done it on Katra for the past six months.  He'd done it on the USS Hamilton before this.  DS9 before that.  Ortega Station even farther back.  He'd lost count of the ships and installations.  There were always jobs that were so routine and simple that it wasn't worth expending the talents of Starfleet personnel.

He'd been glad to get that kind of job.

The kind where no one noticed you, and no one noticed your work.  His job was to make sure nothing ever went wrong.  Preventative maintenance on a regular schedule.  If he did his job right, nothing broke, and no one needed to think about him or what he had done.

There were twenty people in Katra's civilian maintenance division.  Millions of similar people worked throughout Starfleet at a myriad of installations.  They were the invisible lubricant that kept the machinery of Starfleet running.

Usually.

Today, he was becoming the sand in the gears.

Removing the cover for a lighting fixture, he replaced the old lighting element with a new one.  It was something usually done on a computer-guided schedule, ensuring that outages were exceedingly rare.  Any part that might need replacing was replaced shortly before it was expected to fail.

There had been no scheduled lighting replacement today, though.

At least... not from a Starfleet schedule.

The word around the station was that President Tarin had just fired his entire Ferengi staff, and was about to make an official announcement about the illness.  It had all been quite sudden, and Ferengi were grumbling about it all over the promenade.

The lights would need to be in place before Tarin's speech.

The job was nearly complete.  Just three more elements, there would be coverage over the entire area.

[Tess tLhoell]

Cmdr. Tess t'Lhoell (7 months pregnant)
[Katra Station - Deck 11 - Meridian Embassy - President Tarin's office]

Katra Station - Meridian Embassy - Presidential Office

"Come in," Tarin's voice carried outside of his office via intercom, inviting Tess to step inside.

"Forgive the lack of reception staff.  I've just cancelled my Ferengi contracts and expelled all Ferengi from Meridian sovereign territory.  Your timing of your arrival is auspicious, Commander.  I'm about to make a speech to the citizenry of Katra explaining the nature of the illness and laying the blame for it- accurately- at the feet of the Ferengi alliance and Daimon Sorq."

He gestured in her direction.  "You'll probably want to join me so that you can corroborate."

He smiled the smile of someone who had just tied up a great number of troublesome threads.

Katra Station - Promenade

The weathered and aged hands of the civilian maintenance technician moved with the practiced experience gained over a long career.  He had been working with the routine technologies of interstellar life for generations.  In times past, they might have called him a 'handy man' or 'custodian.'  Now it was 'civilian maintenance technician,' but while the title had changed, the job hadn't.  He could maintain any of the technologies that comprised Katra's environmental and transportation suites:  Grav plating, air filtration, turbolift systems, lighting.  He'd done it on Katra for the past six months.  He'd done it on the USS Hamilton before this.  DS9 before that.  Ortega Station even farther back.  He'd lost count of the ships and installations.  There were always jobs that were so routine and simple that it wasn't worth expending the talents of Starfleet personnel.

He'd been glad to get that kind of job.

The kind where no one noticed you, and no one noticed your work.  His job was to make sure nothing ever went wrong.  Preventative maintenance on a regular schedule.  If he did his job right, nothing broke, and no one needed to think about him or what he had done.

There were twenty people in Katra's civilian maintenance division.  Millions of similar people worked throughout Starfleet at a myriad of installations.  They were the invisible lubricant that kept the machinery of Starfleet running.

Usually.

Today, he was becoming the sand in the gears.

Removing the cover for a lighting fixture, he replaced the old lighting element with a new one.  It was something usually done on a computer-guided schedule, ensuring that outages were exceedingly rare.  Any part that might need replacing was replaced shortly before it was expected to fail.

There had been no scheduled lighting replacement today, though.

At least... not from a Starfleet schedule.

The word around the station was that President Tarin had just fired his entire Ferengi staff, and was about to make an official announcement about the illness.  It had all been quite sudden, and Ferengi were grumbling about it all over the promenade.

The lights would need to be in place before Tarin's speech.

The job was nearly complete.  Just three more elements, there would be coverage over the entire area.

Tess was surprised when Tarin told her that he had fired the Ferengi staff and that he was about to make a station-wide statement about the illness and blaming the Ferengi for it. A ping of guilt at her probably premature mentioning the Ferengi to the Meridian President shot through her. She didn't expect Tarin to react the way he had, it seemed too consequential to be decided right on the spot. The Meridian President seemed to be over-eager to find a scapegoat and not caring too much about proven facts. Her assumption was that, even if she had not mentioned the Ferengi but simply the suspicion about transporter error, he would sit here the same way, just blaming Starfleet instead of the Ferengi.

Tess noted with horror that he believed she would support him in what he was about to do. That man was impulsive. So if anything, Tess needed to buy time and try to reason Tarin into waiting for facts.

Tess took his assumption that she wanted to join him to corroborate as an invitation to sit down so she did so.  Searching the man's eyes, Tess spoke calmly - unlike how she felt inwardly. "To be honest, President, I am surprised to hear about your actions to the news that are only minutes old. Of course you can make your decisions about your staff as you like, but I would like to ask you to refrain from your plan to make a public announcment about the Meridian illness and blaming the Ferengi for it. As I said, this is not more than a theory for now, which we are trying to find proof for currently. Maybe it was a mistake on my side to share that bit of information with you in the confidentiality of a conversation between the station's Executive Officer and the Meridian people's President. But that is how it was intended to be dealt with. Confidentially."

She paused briefly before she resumed speaking, hoping her words would reach the man. "I understand you want to find the persons responsible for the suffering of your people. But it is not the time yet. We need to do some more work for that and I ask you for just a little more patience than what you already shown the past months. I am positive to have found a temporary solution and that we are on the brink of finding a permanent one. As for the cause of all of it, we will be happy to offer assistance in investigating on it."

"As for your speech - I have to tell you I will not corroborate your statement. Not at this point." Tess stood up now and walked over to Tarin with the armband in hand. "This is one of the Emergency Transporter Armbands that we are distributing to the Meridian people now. It posesses Phase Discriminator modules to keep the quantum phase from disrupting which had caused the seizures." She hoped her explaining the armband's function would distract the man a little - and she seriously wondered if she could or should forbid the man to make such a statement. It was very thin ice.

[Planet Meridian - Kir'Shara outpost - Sickbay]

Dira still lay on the biobed as she recovered from the seizure she had suffered. Meral didn't leave her side the entire time. He was very worried about his partner. The Meridians were very few and he had hoped to start a family with Dira soon to help their population to recover. Every loss would hurt all the more.

Meral heard the station's doctor saying something about armbands and the man looked at the Klingon Ensign with a mixture of suspicion and hopefulness. "So, what do these things do exactly?", he asked. Unlike some of his fellow Meridians - including their President - Meral had not been very doubtful of the Federation and Starfleet. That had somewhat changed the past months the strange illness was coursing among them.

[Dr. ta li yo-na]

[Planet Meridian - Kir'Shara outpost - Sickbay]

Dira still lay on the biobed as she recovered from the seizure she had suffered. Meral didn't leave her side the entire time. He was very worried about his partner. The Meridians were very few and he had hoped to start a family with Dira soon to help their population to recover. Every loss would hurt all the more.

Meral heard the station's doctor saying something about armbands and the man looked at the Klingon Ensign with a mixture of suspicion and hopefulness. "So, what do these things do exactly?", he asked. Unlike some of his fellow Meridians - including their President - Meral had not been very doubtful of the Federation and Starfleet. That had somewhat changed the past months the strange illness was coursing among them.

[planet meridian - kir'shara outpost - sickbay]

Ta Li Yo-na stood adjusting the arm band and at the query from meral he showed the arm band to him " here let me show you it will help you feel better about it" he  said explaining the device and how it works. Then fitting the it round the meridians arm making sure it was comfortable "they're all individually programmed for each person.  so for instance your arm band wouldn't work on dira and vice versa"

Making the final adjustment the dr fitted an arm band to dira and went to collect more arm bands from the table to put on the other meridians

[Solluk]

Katra Station - Meridian Embassy - Presidential Office

Rather than be upset at Tess' remarks, Tarin merely smiled as he extended his arm so that she could attach the armband.

"I'm afraid you are a tad too innocent to understand the political situation here, Commander," he said, somewhat condescendingly.  "I can't fault you for it.  You have a background in medicine, and it seems to me that Starfleet does not encourage social maneuvering.  But let me tell you, despite being on a stranded colony of only just over 30 people, politics has been my whole life.

You can't begin to imagine how much harsher a group of 30 can be, than a group of 3 million.  People see us, and they assume a friendly tribe of fellow survivors.  But it is more like 'Jagunda Island.'"

He saw a hint of confusion on her face, and tried again, "Lord of the Flies?"

Finally, he shrugged, "The point is, a small group can invoke harmful policies that change the entire course of a civilization overnight.  The former President Keshara smiled well enough, but she failed to grasp the precarious position we were in as a people.  That made her dangerous.  I do not suffer her limited vision.  And neither should you."

He eyed the armband device.  Such a small thing.  Such a big impact.

"Thirty people aren't typically allowed to own a whole world.  Never mind a solar system.  A powerful and capable administrative order had to be invoked immediately to protect ourselves.  That meant the Ferengi.  They were here, they were capable, and they were ready.  But they were never to be trusted.

This illness began as a danger to us.  But it has become an opportunity.  A good leader does not hesitate to seize an opportunity.  The tourism infrastructure on Meridian is already in place.  And now, this transporter theory gives me all of the excuse I need to break my contracts with the Ferengi.  This is good for the Federation, too.  I know you don't trust the Ferengi any more than I do.  And now, they are no longer necessary.  We have a much more trustworthy work force on their way to Meridian.  A grateful work force already accustomed to service.  What the Ferengi built, the Etrosians will maintain.

And so, no more Ferengi in critical affairs.  With the loss of such an important contract, Daimon Sorq will likely lose his monopoly on Sector Commerce within the alliance, increasing competition and lowering the cost of those products and services any Ferengi still provide in this area.  The so-called 'Meridian Plague' is just another step in our independence, prosperity, and security.  I could not have done better had I engineered the illness myself.  Keshara would never have seized this opportunity.  She would have found the firing of the Ferengi distasteful.  The scapegoating of an entire people would have smacked too much of bigotry to her.  And that is why I am the better President for my people.  I will always put Meridian first."

He stood, and Tess' communicator beeped.

"Commander.  This is Chief Engineer Grom.  I have completed my simulations.  Everything confirms your supposition.  We can stabilize the entire Meridian population by beaming them up to the station, using the armbands to enhance quantum stabilizations in transit.  This time, the stabilization should be permanent.  The modifications to the transporter are entirely software based.  I should have them ready to go in minutes."

Tarin smiled, "Well, there is the confirmation that so troubled you, Commander.  I hope you will join me as I speak to the Katra citizenry.  We can beam up my people as the finale to the speech, proclaiming the illness ended.  And then life can return to normal... only better."

[Paul Wessex]

Babble? Racket? I like that one.

Paul was trying to think of a word for the collective noun for the number of Ferengi that were filing into the CZC office - some fighting shoulder-to-shoulder to get in before the other; he wasn't sure what had 'motivated' the Ferengi embassy staff to report to him, but he was appreciative of the mountain coming to Muhammed without undue negotiation.

Negotiations, however, had been reserved for those sat before him in the interview room. If he had been so inclined, Wessex could have bought a whole moon just for himself with all the latinum he had been offered; some as 'generous gifts to reflect the respect' they had for Starfleet, himself personally, or the legal integrity of the investigation; some as a bare-faced bribe to implicate their colleague(s). As it turned out, each offer had been stated to have been recorded for the Court and added to the list of evidence he was compiling.

The questions continued, therefore, without financial lubricant and the threat of immediate arrest for bribery. All but three Ferengi had either no knowledge of the activities aboard the station or was sufficiently experienced in such interviews to show believable deniability. Of those remaining three, two reacted quite nervous to the presentation of the Ferengi ancient currency symbol. Only one felt terrified enough to explain what it represented.

As it turned out, the symbol had been in circulation for a great portion of Ferengi history, but significantly since it went out of use as an indication of pre-weight currency. To the Ferengi - Dram - that was spilling the proverbial beans, it was the insignia of 'Marketing Intelligence' - a seemingly innocuous name for what was, in fact, a private ultra-secret intelligence apparatus run by a cartel of businesses that even today operated outside the reforms of Grand Nagus Rom. Their aims were to continue to uphold the values and practices of the Alliance before the said reforms of the benign Nagus; to infiltrate the economies of those across the quadrants and manipulate activities within, germinating and supporting a subversive alt-economy and value structure ...before initiating a hostile takeover of those networks, funnelling all co-opted resources to off-system banking chain to finance both new endeavours and the mass-production of a private fleet with the eventual aim of initiating a coup against the new 'treacherous leadership'.

Dram, imparting this information in the manner of someone who had literally sold his last vestiges of moral fibre, made it quite clear he was willing to immediately buy a fast-track asylum for his ongoing safety.

Paul was about to suggest he would consider it before the lights flickered and gave out.

This happened only for a moment before they returned; which was useful, as he was quite sure the decibels from Dram constituted an assault on a Starfleet Officer. He tapped his badge. " Ensign Wessex to Engineering; I've just experienced a power outage in the Promenade Security Office - I'd be grateful if someone could be sent down to investigate as a matter of urgent concern.  "

The last thing he wanted was to have systems down with an office full of Ferengi.

The door to the interview opened, and Paul was about to admonish the Security crewman, Parsons, that had disturbed the interview when he heard the din from behind them. A sound that was perhaps the singularly most discordant noise he had ever heard - and that included being 20 meters from a school of Siren Bass; an absolute mass of overlapping cries and wails.

Parson's face looked pleading.

Volume, Paul decided. A volume of Ferengi.