Chapter One

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I think the Enforcer has a thing for me.”  The words rolled off Lucas Tompkins’ tongue like a poison, virtually rotting the air as they floated into Justin Reinbold’s ears.

 

The Enforcer was not someone Justin Reinbold liked to encounter.  In fact, he often went out of his way to avoid the lumbering entity, for the very sight of it made his stomach churn.  Lucas knew this well—in fact, he frequently shared in Justin’s loathing of the dreaded Enforcer—and his claim was probably nothing more than a joke.  “Hey, that’s not funny,” Justin replied.  Already, he could feel his stomach recoiling in disgust…

 

“Heh…” Lucas wearily shook his head.  “It’s no joke.  She cornered me in the turbolift this morning—asked me how I was doing… Even wanted to know what plans I had later this evening.”

 

Justin cringed.  “Damn…”

 

“It gets worse.”

 

“Worse?”  The encounter in the turbolift was bad enough.  Justin couldn’t even begin to imagine how much worse it could have possibly gotten.  “She didn’t put the moves on you, did she?”

 

“The beast didn’t get that far,” said Lucas, obviously relieved.  “But she was definitely hinting at it.  I could see the lusty glimmer in her eyes.  She wanted me, but… I got the hell out of the turbolift the nanosecond that bad boy came to a stop.”

 

Images of the beastly Enforcer swooning over Lucas slowly started to creep into Justin’s mind—and he immediately shuddered, desperate to banish the hellish thoughts into oblivion.  But to no avail; the images remained.  “You’re going to give me nightmares, man!  Talk about something else!  Anything else!”

 

The two were on their way to lunch in the mess hall.  Up until a few minutes ago, Justin had been looking forward to the meal—but if this stupid conversation continued, he was definitely going to have to hurl—and then go eat someplace else.

 

Thankfully, Lucas seemed just as eager to leave the conversation behind.  As they strolled into the mess hall, Lucas abandoned the vile conversation with a shrug, and alluded to the grandiose blue and green sphere hanging in the windows.  “Been down to the surface yet?”

 

Justin had been to Earth hundreds of times over the years.  He’d even lived there with his grandparents for about a year when he was eleven.  As far as he was concerned, it was just another planet—but everyone else seemed totally fixated by the place.  “I’ll get to it sooner or later,” said with a shrug.  “My Mom is probably going to make me go see my grandparents, so…”

 

Since that particular topic was boring even to Justin, he could imagine how very little Lucas wanted to hear about it.  Thus, he let it fall by the wayside, and followed the engineer over to the replicators.  Apparently, Lucas had used the lull in the conversation to decide upon his lunch; he immediately walked up to the replicator and ordered himself a big bowl of macaroni and cheese. 

 

As he watched the macaroni swirl into existence in the replicator basin, Justin was tempted to get the same thing.  After all, it looked pretty good—but he had been craving pizza since last night, and since his Mom undoubtedly had some ‘exciting’ dinner plans, Justin knew this would be his only chance.

 

Within a few minutes, a glittering swirl of blue light deposited Justin’s lunch in the replicator.  He swiftly grabbed his plate and wandered into the crowded mess hall in search of Lucas.  Despite the fact the crew had an entire planet at their disposal, it seemed that none of the bothered to take advantage of the shore leave granted by the Captain.  Either they were as excited about Earth as Justin, or the food in the mess hall was just that good.

 

After a brief search, Justin spotted Lucas seated with Jayla Trinn near the windows.  Justin hesitated for a moment—after all, the two had been involved awhile back, and given the looks of the conversation, a rekindling of the romance might have been at hand. 

 

Thus, Justin’s approach was gradual, giving him plenty of time to sit elsewhere if Lucas flashed him some sort of signal—he didn’t, and a moment later, Justin’s meandering brought him to the seat across from the pair.  “Hey,” he said to Jayla as he sat.

 

She nodded politely.  “Good to see you, Justin.”

 

The pleasant aroma dancing into his nostrils, Justin was eager to dive into his pizza.  He carefully pulled a slice from his plate and started to eat, when Lucas’ eyes suddenly rolled to the side.  Curious, Justin followed them all the way across the room—to the approaching Enforcer.

 

Justin immediately averted his eyes, focusing entirely upon his meal—but there was no amount of aversion that could keep him from hearing the conversation that ensued.

 

“Hi, Lucas.”  Lieutenant Jamie Waltman’s deep, husky voice boomed across the mess hall even before she was halfway to the table.  “How are you doing?”

 

Lucas cringed.  “Fine,” he curtly replied.

 

A shadow suddenly seemed to loom over the table.  Justin assumed it was the Enforcer, but he didn’t dare look up, fearing he might be blinded or turned to stone or something.  Instead, he concentrated entirely on his meal, devouring the pizza like he hadn’t eaten in years.

 

“Say, I’m heading down to Earth a little later on.”  She sipped at a big mug of… something.  Justin could barely see the action out of the corner of his eye, but he wasn’t curious enough to risk blindness.  “You want to join me?”

 

“I can’t,” Lucas lied, haphazardly stabbing at his macaroni with a fork.  “I told the guys over at McKinley that I’d give them a hand with the new phaser banks this afternoon.  Sorry.”

 

The Enforcer expelled a hearty laugh.  “That’s okay,” she said.  The laugh was undoubtedly meant to hide her disappointment, but it failed miserably.  She really was in love with Lucas.  “Well, I’ll see you later.”

 

Lucas nodded briskly.  “Sure.”

 

The shadow lifted, and, three slices of pizza later, Justin looked up from his nearly empty plate, his curious gaze falling directly to Lucas.  “Whoa… I am sorry.  Nobody deserves that.”

 

And while Lucas readily agreed with that assessment, Jayla seemed to find the entire exchange funny.  Giggling, she indolently picked at her leafy green salad and said, “You two are a perfect match, Lucas.”

 

He wasn’t humored.  In fact, the irony of the situation had him looking somewhat angry.  “The only woman on the ship willing to sleep with me just happens to be uglier than most men…” He wearily dropped his fork on the table.  “I tell you, Justin: life’s not fair…”

 

 

 

“…Not fair at all,” Captain Christopher quietly agreed, shaking his head to make the full extent of his displeasure known.

 

A few weeks ago, he had been poised and ready to reveal the treacherous organization that had become the United Federation of Planets.  He had his evidence; he had backups of his evidence; he even had the prisoners to prove his case in the event the other evidence somehow managed to disappear…   The hammer was about to come down.

 

And it did.

 

Unfortunately, it went the wrong way.

 

“They used us,” said Matthew Harrison, sipping at his simmering cup of green tea.

 

Over the years, Christopher had become aware of tea’s many health benefits.  It improved memory and vision; it improved blood flow and reduced the risk of heart attack (or something); and was helpful in finding the meaning of life… but despite all of these incredible benefits, Christopher had to admit, the stuff was utterly wretched. 

 

When news of the falling hammer first reached Christopher, he knew he needed to meet with his allies.  With the bridge undergoing repairs, meeting there was out of the question—and after some debate, it was ultimately decided that they would meet in Sarah Hartman’s quarters.  At the time, that seemed fine, but when the Doctor set the petite little tray of green tea on the table, Christopher immediately began to have second thoughts.

 

Hartman, of course, had reminded Christopher of the health benefits, and to humor the good doctor, he dared to sip the stuff… but that was it.  After gagging through one small sip, he was done.  There were undoubtedly plenty of palatable Ka’Tulan alternatives he could imbibe.

 

And after a few minutes away, Hartman returned to the plain gray table in her sparsely decorated quarters with her second cup of tea.  “They used us like a puppet,” she concurred.  “Who knew you were so gullible, Alan?”

 

He shrugged.  “Not I.”

 

Not long after the Starlight docked with Earth Station McKinley, word came down from Starfleet Command that a military coup on J’larre had exposed a top secret Federation base on the planet’s surface.  And from that moment on, the news continued to get worse; within an hour, every last shred of evidence Christopher had gathered was out in the open—and the Federation was quick to address the issue. 

 

The President himself made an announcement, stating the interrogation of the prisoners of war on J’larre was a necessary evil—that the Federation had uncovered numerous Romulan plots and Elorg schemes thanks to the J’larrans’ cooperation…  He went on for a while longer, before ultimately dismissing the entire incident as little more than a nominal intelligence operation.

 

“Unfortunately,” said Harrison softly, “many within the Federation have reacted favorably to this news.  Federation citizens still adamantly condemn the act of torture…  But I’ve been glancing at some of the reports; when asked about the incident on J’larre, many were indifferent.”

 

Hartman sighed.  “It’s been said that the Federation is the only empire to go from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between. As long as they don’t have to hear about it, the people on Earth don’t really care what’s going on out there,” she said, haphazardly alluding to the stars.

 

“And why should they?” asked Christopher.  He glanced at his cup of tea—still simmering—but didn’t dare take another sip.  “Earth is paradise.  Everything is handed to you on a golden platter… just sit around, relax, have a good old time.  There’s no need to worry about the problems on some backward alien world a hundred light years away.  Starfleet will take care of it…”

 

Harrison solemnly shook his head.  “A large segment of Earth’s population is still only moderately aware of the Elorg War,” he grimly added.

 

“That just pisses me off,” said Hartman, slamming her fist on the table.  Her voice was brimming with anger, but she managed to control her rage.  “We were out there fighting for our lives—and theirs—every damn day for three years… and these people are so ignorant, they don’t even realize the entire Beta Quadrant could have been eradicated by the Elorg.  If you ask me, Earth needs to take its head out of its ass, and look around!

 

“Oh, dearest Sarah,” said Christopher lightly, “you’re so eloquent.”

 

“I try.”  She brooded over her tea for a moment, allowing her anger to evaporate with the curly wisps steam.  It didn’t work, of course, but the rage burning in her eyes did seem to subside a bit.

 

“It is simply difficult to believe we, as a people, have become so degenerate,” Harrison calmly continued.  “During the Dominion War, everyone knew about Captain Sisko and Colonel Kira…  But I don’t hear anyone singing songs about us.”

 

“There was some excitement in the days after the war,” Christopher reminded.  There weren’t parades or songs, that much was certain—but they people of Earth did pause to acknowledge the heroes of the Elorg War… if only for an moment.  “Our names may fade from the minds of ordinary people, but they are forever emblazoned into the annals of history.”

 

A faint smile crossed Hartman’s face.  Gently, she raised her half-empty teacup to the air and offered a toast: “To the annals of history.  May they remember us well…”

 

 

 

It was not unusual for Tiias Yanir to be seen at Federation Headquarters.  The Bolian was widely considered to be one of the preeminent authorities on ancient Chodak civilization—and since the President himself was quite interested in ancient history, the two would frequently meet to discuss the latest findings.  And on this cold winter day, Yanir and Makar would have much to discuss…

 

The path to the President’s Paris office was reasonably quiet today.  Yanir encountered only a few noteworthy individuals, including the Saurian Ambassador, who seemed more than eager to discuss his daughter’s first molting.  On any other day, Yanir would have been reasonably disinterested in holding such a conversation.  Today was different; he had neither the time nor the slightest interest in hearing the Ambassador’s tale.  Thus, Yanir politely excused himself from the purple-skinned Saurian’s presence, and made a hasty retreat into the heart of the Federation Headquarters.

 

A few minutes later, Yanir stood before the President’s office.  He tapped the chime beside the door and waited patiently to be admitted inside.  And the wait was a brief one.  Just seconds later, the doors slid apart, and Ghodan Makar’s cavernous office appeared.

 

Faint beams of cold winter sun floated into the room from the window overlooking the city.  It was truly a striking view of Paris—in fact, it almost tempted Yanir to actually go and visit that wondrous Eiffel Tower…  Almost.  After a moment, the Bolian’s attention was diverted to the other tower… the tall, elegant Trill standing just before the window, peering out upon his domain.

 

“What news do you have of the Chodak?” asked Makar flatly.  In all reality, he cared little about the ancient species—as did Yanir.  But it was a pleasant fiction, and it served both of them well…

 

Yanir took a few small steps inside, just enough for the doors to slide shut.  Normally, he would have stormed right up to the President’s desk with all the news he had gathered on from the front lines… but considering the delicate nature of the data collected on J’larre, now was not the time to be brazen.

 

Nor was it the time for games.

 

The two usually spent a few moments actually discussing the Chodak, just for the sake of the illusion.  But on this day, Yanir cared not about maintaining their little fantasy.  “I have completed my mission.”

 

“And?”

 

“The Elorg will attack.”  There was no easy way to put it, but if Yanir’s contact within the Cortisan Enclave was correct, eloquence would make no difference to Makar; he already knew about the pending assault.

 

But the words did seem to give the President a moment’s pause.  His dark eyes finally wandered away from the cityscape, curiously falling upon Yanir.  “Are you certain?”

 

“Yes,” affirmed Yanir.  “I do not yet have the details, but a full blown conflict with the Elorg will be upon us by the year’s end.”  And now came the test…  “What should we do?”

 

Though there had been a glint of curiosity in Makar’s eyes, it faded quickly.  Had the news been a complete surprise to him, it would have very quickly been replaced concern or something similar—but as the President stood in contemplation of Yanir’s question, the look on his face was plainly neutral.  “For the moment,” Makar whispered, “we wait.”

 

Yanir arched a curious brow.  “Wait?”

 

Makar nodded.

 

“For what?”

 

“At this point, the attack is little more than a rumor.  I do not want to take any actions that might provoke the Elorg.  And so, we shall wait for them to make the first move…”

 

Yanir clenched his jaw.  “They have already made the first move,” he said.  “They have been planning this attack for months!  At the very least, we should increase our presence along the border.”

 

The Trill flashed a thin smile.  “Thank you for your input, Yanir.”  His tone was utterly dismissive, indicating to Yanir that he had no intention of considering the buildup.  “You are dismissed… contact me again once you have some more concrete information.”

 

“Of course.”  And in that very instant, Tiias Yanir knew the President of the Federation was somehow in league with the Elorg.  The information implicating him was hardly concrete, but when it came to the safety of the Federation, one could never be too careful.  Yanir nodded politely, turned on his heel, and left.

 

In the corridor a moment later, Yanir fell into step alongside Lieutenant Bator.  The Phobian pretended to confer with Yanir about some dig site near the former Romulan Neutral Zone, but his thoughts were so far removed from the Chodak that he didn’t even bother to pretend he was listening.  Instead, he pulled Bator into a long, dark corridor well off the beaten path.

 

The Phobian dropped his guise.  “I assume the meeting with Makar did not go well?”

 

“You assume correctly.”  Yanir’s gaze narrowed.  “We must act—and act quickly.  Makar does not intend to stop the invasion.”

 

Bator’s eyes widened with surprise.  “Then he is in league with the Elorg?”

 

“It would seem to be so,” Yanir quietly confirmed.  “But before we go and assassinate the President of the Federation, we are going to need to be absolutely certain that he’s working with them.”

 

Though he had often been on the fringes of the more recent intelligence operations, Bator was nevertheless a competent agent, able to do what needed doing.  He was prepared for this dark mission.  “What do you need me to do?”

 

“You are close to Talyere Rosat, are you not?”

 

“Relatively.”

 

“Good.”  At the sound of footsteps in the main corridor, Yanir began to wander deeper into the darkness.  This was not a good time to be found out.  “We need access to Talyere’s resources.”

 

Bator hesitated for a moment.  “He has separated himself from the Bloc…”

 

Yanir didn’t care if he had become a cleric at some Klingon monastery.  They needed that information, and Talyere’s little spat with the Conclave of Overseers couldn’t be allowed to stand in the way.  “Then I would suggest you reintegrate him…”

 

 

 

 

Proceed to Chapter Two