JL | LtCmdr Stacker & Lt. Merlin | "Into The Deep"

Posted on Wed Apr 25th, 2018 @ 3:58pm by Commander James Stacker & Commander Evan Merlin

Mission: Lacuna
Location: CIO's Office | Deck 681 | Cold Station Theta
Timeline: SD 241804.25

The Lieutenant always wandered all over the station and could be found in the oddest of places at the oddest of times. He generally kept his distance of the area where the spooks operated, though. Not because he was afraid of them, but because he knew strangers (which came down to 'everyone not of their department') made them nervous, and nervous people didn't operate at peak efficiency. He had contemplated, to himself, once that maybe he should hang a sign on their door saying something along the lines of "Caution! Intel in their natural habitat. Do not disturb!". The general mood and sense of humour of the average spook had made him decide against it, though.

But now he set aside that reticience and walked through the quiet corridors towards LtCmdr. Stacker's office. Intel, he thought to himself, was like a black hole. Stuff flowed in, but preciously little ever came out. And, mindfull of the Commodore's advice, it was time to shake some trees until something came out.

Besides, he had some information the man also needed to know.

He knocked on the side of the door and stuck his head around the corner. "Commander. Do you have a moment?"

James' eyes came up off the computer screen, glancing to the side at the clock on the wall. "I have ten minutes." It was the absolute latest he could afford to stay, if he wanted to make it to the ship ahead of schedule - as was expected of him. 'Three hundred lives of men I've walked this earth and now I have no time.' Gandalf was a smart wizard, he told himself as he turned off the display and closed the lid, somewhat wearily.

The Lieutenant arched an eyebrow. He was quite good at it. "Pressing appointment?"

"The rescue mission leaves in just over an hour. I was just wrapping up a few last-minute things," the chief intelligence officer replied. He flicked a few fingers towards his computer as he leaned back in the chair. "Was up and couldn't sleep. Figured I would come down here and at least be semi-productive. But you didn't come down here to hear about that." Despite the lines around his eyes, which seemed deeper and deeper by the day, his mind was still functional. "What can I do for you?"

"I couldn't help but notice your information regarding the rescue mission was less than scant." One single page, not even filled. Little more than a note sent to inform the command staff that a rescue team would go to an undisclosed location in the hope of returning the 'missing packages'. It had made the Lieutenant wonder if Stacker trusted his own organisation. Not his own team, probably, but those above, perhaps? "I hope you have a longer version lying around here somewhere, or already keyed to be unlocked once you leave?" The first would be more likely than the second.

The lieutenant commander said nothing. He sat there, looking across his desk at the visitor for a few ticks of the clock. Then he arose and walked into a side alcove, from which there was the sound of something beeping and then the hum of a replicator. When he reemerged he held a plate with a steaming cup on it. "You might have come down here on a wasted trip," he said as he re-crossed back to his desk. The clinking of china, when he put the plate down, was a little loud in the silence between words.

"I typically draft up the longer reports after returning from a mission," he added, smoothing the front of his rumpled blouse with one hand before sitting back down. "I'm old school that way. I've never had much trust in technology, or electronic security. Anything built by man can be cracked by him." He blinked and eyed the alcove, then looked back at the lieutenant. "I'm sorry: did you want anything?"

The Lieutenant tapped his fingers lightly against the door post. "Understandable, from your point of view. However, I need to take into account the possibility that you will not return. In that case, I will need all the information you've had in order to proceed from there. Because, Commander, if your mission does not succeed, that bleak war scenario you sketched during our last conversation might well come to pass. Especially if I have nothing more to show to the Empress than that note saying 'Hi, nipping out to bring the packages back, be right back, no need to wait up, mom'. I don't think she'll be satisfied with that."

There was no response, as the man behind the desk blew steam away from the surface of the tea. He took a sip, swallowing before speaking. "I'm afraid I can't do that." He leaned back in his chair, holding the plate with the cup in one hand and eyeing his guest in a speculative way while he held up his other hand to forestall a response. "If you'll pardon the expression, this investigation has become 'contaminated.' There are multiple sensitive matters which have converged into this one, and I'm not at liberty to discuss all of them." It was clear that it didn't sit well with him: there was a note of evident distaste in his voice as his hand lowered back to the chair.

The Lieutenant's eyes narrowed briefly. Something deep inside the recesses of his mind seemed to wake, and if anybody was paying attention, his eyes seemed to turn a darker, deeper blue. It didn't show in his voice. "Do you have a contingency plan in place, Commander? In case things don't go quite as planned?"

"I do indeed." The man seemed remarkably calm at the situation: remarkable, considering what he said next would have incited concern in almost anyone else. "A type-III phaser on overload has an explosive force of 280 million megajoules. Sufficient to destroy a Starfleet runabout, and more than sufficient to destroy their arms stockpile. If the team fails and everyone is captured, the Campbeltown will remotely trigger the overload. The resulting explosion should destroy the base." The cup clinked again on the plate as he put it down. It rang out crystal clear in the silence that followed his words.

"And if the Campbeltown is compromised?" the Lieutenant asked calmly.

This brought a flicker at the corners of his mouth. "Unlikely. She's the fastest ship in the entire sector. To say nothing of her stealth capabilities." Another pause while he wetted his throat. "Starfleet didn't send us just another rank-and-file vessel. Unless they have some top-of-the-line, next-generation military sensor arrays where we're going, they'll be extraordinarily hard-pressed to even get a whiff that she's out there."

The Lieutenant smiled bleakly. "I've heard rumours of a group out there gathering talents. Telepaths and such. They'd have no trouble finding such a ship, shields or not. Maybe not exactly pinpoint it in a battle situation, but if the ship hangs there, all quiet and stealthy…" he gave a small shrug. "Rumours. Yet something to look into, at some point."

Really, lieutenant ... rock-paper-scissors doesn't become you. His eyes flicked to the clock. Five minutes. Although it was another reminder that time was not his own, it also seemed as if Father Time was determined to prolong the growing sense of impatience that he felt deep inside. Maybe he's a trickster. I'm sure Val would - will - love to help me dig into those fables. "I'm sure it'll come to attention at some point. The borderlands is the right place to hide such a group, but inevitably mistakes get made. They always do," he added with a slight flourish of the cup.

"Let's hope those mistakes don't cost you your life and the rest of us a war." If the Lieutenant had noticed Stacker's glance, he didn't react to it. "Surely not everyone on the base will be there just to take a look at the merchandise. There must be more than one group out there thinking how they can use it to drive a wedge between powers who thus far seem to be friendly to another."

"I'm sure there must be," came the concession. From his tone of voice, however, it was hard to say if this was just agreeing with the sentiment or a conclusion grounded in knowledge. Nevertheless, he forged ahead. "And this is why it's important that this situation be dealt with quickly and decisively. Lest we invite others to target individuals close to Her Majesty. Absent a strong Federation response, that's precisely what the door will be open to."

The Lieutenant nodded. "However, hinging all of this on one mission, going out by yourself without even leaving behind where you're going to… With all respect for your competence, Commander, it is one awfully small card."

And I know why you want this information, James thought as he glanced to the closed-down computer. But is it an incentive to gain trust, or driven by desperation? His visitor seemed determined to press this point, and that made him uneasy. Less so that someone was harping on this; more that it was coming from someone who struck the chief intelligence officer as sufficient of a loose cannon as to play cowboy with classified intelligence.

"Well then," he finally answered with a return of that faint hint of a smile. "I guess I'll just have to return, won't I?"

Those keen eyes, unfathomably deep, seemed to guess what he was thinking. "Commander," the man said softly, "I trusted you, awhile back. Even though I knew that nitwit of an Archer stayed on to listen to our conversation. You asked for my trust, I gave it. I deeply regret to see you are not ready to return it."

There was a telltale snapping sound from the clock. The chair creaked as he stood up, taking a moment to stretch before he got moving. "Unfortunately it seems our time's run out. Top of the hour: that means I have a ship to get to," he said over his shoulder as he headed into the alcove. The replicator was just beginning to hum, with that telltale flaring light, as he reemerged into his office. "I'll be sure to file those reports when I return."

"Good luck, Commander," the Lieutenant said before the hum could die away. Once it had, he smiled again. But this time it was a smile tinged with sadness. "One would have hoped intelligence officers, of all people, would know how to look beyond the surface, into the deep," he said, aloud. Of course, in these areas, cameras and microphones were always running, unless ordered off by the CIO – and, with his boss on the station, maybe not even then, the Lieutenant thought to himself. The glass ball made an appearance, twirling on the tip of his finger. "Time for me to keep a promise," he muttered, keyed in a side-to-side and vanished.

=/\=

Lt. Evan Merlin
AXO/CStratOps
Cold Station Theta

Lieutenant Commander James Stacker
Chief Intelligence Officer/Acting 2XO
Cold Station Theta, SB-1170