Chapter Text
Stardate 60383.2
Starbase 234
Mariner sat in the quarters she shared with T’Lyn aboard Cerritos: fresh from a sonic shower, wrapped in a crimson silk robe, sipping from a glass of Andorian brandy, and reading a sheaf of classified documents for the third time. She did her best to keep her thoughts separate from the telepathic link she shared with her new wife. Knowing all the while it was likely futile – she wasn’t that skilled at partitioning her brain yet.
At least T’Lyn appeared unaffected. She knelt on her meditation mat a few meters away, her eyes closed and her body at rest in the Vulcan equivalent of padmāsana. A bit of incense burned in a holder before her, adding a hint of exotic scent to the air.
T’Lyn had been meditating more often of late, less because she felt herself to be under stress, more because it was pleasant to be able to meditate after surviving her first pon farr cycle with her sanity intact. Of course, living with an unruly human presence in the back of her head probably did give her some things to process. Mariner tried not to feel bad about that.
If this thing of ours was giving her real trouble, she would say something. Vulcan reticence or not, she’s never been anything but open and honest with me.
Mariner turned back to the documents from Starfleet Intelligence.
Captain Ransom had already approved the mission. It was hers, if she was willing to take it. If she wasn’t, SI would find someone else. Of course, SI tried to pick the officers with the best chance of success, and they had a pretty good track record of making the right choices.
Maybe it has to be me, because someone else might get it wrong.
Almost despite herself, she caught part of her brain starting to plan the caper. Who she would need. How they would get in, secure the target, and get back out. All the things that could go wrong, and how to respond on the fly when they did. What success might mean to the Federation, to the crew of Cerritos, to Mariner herself.
There was a lot of risk involved. The potential payoffs were big too.
Mariner was so deep in thought, it actually surprised her when T’Lyn stepped up next to her and slipped a hand under her ponytail to caress the nape of her neck. She startled a little, then glanced up. “How do you move so quietly, babe?”
“I was not consciously employing stealth,” said T’Lyn. “You were very involved in those documents.”
“I guess I was.” Mariner sighed. “Damn Starfleet Intelligence. Do one job for them so well they promote you for it, and then you’re at the top of their list for the next insanely dangerous assignment.”
“You are considering accepting the mission.” It wasn’t a question.
“I think so.” Mariner looked up into her wife’s face again. “Not only that, I think you ought to come too. I already see at least four different ways you would be crazy useful.”
“If my presence will improve your odds of coming back from the mission alive, then of course I will come.” T’Lyn’s fingers did something pleasant at the nape of Mariner’s neck. “Now, turn off your monitor and come to bed.”
Mariner chuckled as she obeyed. “I swear, a lot of humans have no idea how frisky married Vulcans can be. They think the once-every-seven-years thing is all you get.”
“Regular sex promotes physical and psychological health, and strengthens the marital bond. It is therefore quite logical.” T’Lyn bent close to give Mariner a quick kiss, a brush of the lips that promised more. “Besides, it makes you happy, and I value that result as well.”
“Not complaining, ashayam.”
Stardate 60384.3
Starbase 234
Boimler’s quarters had changed ever since Rutherford had moved out, becoming less generic and more distinctively his. She could detect shifts in his interests by the projects sitting on his desk and work-table: a healthy-looking bonsai, a collection of star maps on actual paper, a simulation game of the Klingon War of 2256 set up for him to play both sides. An actual oil painting was standing on an easel in one corner, a unfinished landscape from some vaguely Mediterranean part of Earth . . . and didn’t that say some interesting things about where Boimler’s mind was these days.
The bunks were still there, with Denty II still prominent over where his head would have rested, but he had moved an actual bed into the room and was sleeping there these days.
A double bed, too, Mariner thought, glancing in that direction without seeming to. Now, is that wishful thinking or is he sharing it with someone?
No way to tell, given Boimler’s obsessive neatness. Mariner reminded herself she had promised not to meddle.
“Wow,” said Boimler from his desk, where he was reviewing Mariner’s mission briefing. “This could be a major blow against the Tal Shiar. Payback for all the trouble they’ve been giving us over the past few months. Not to mention Nimbus III.”
Mariner nodded grimly, remembering when she had returned triumphant from the Roman planet, only to hear the news about the Tal Shiar massacres on the “Planet of Galactic Peace.”
Boimler kept reading. “Huh,” he said a few moments later. “Not just any Tal Shiar. We think Sela is going rogue?”
“That’s the assessment,” said Mariner. “She’s been in bad odor ever since her faction supported Shinzon and got their asses kicked. She tried backing Donatra in the civil war, but Donatra isn’t a fool and didn’t trust her one bit. She’s been frozen out. So now she’s trying to build a power base of her own, either to go up against Donatra the moment she sees an opening, or to carve out a chunk of the Romulan Empire for herself after the supernova goes boom.”
“Yeah.” Boimler closed the mission brief and glanced over at Mariner, a thoughtful expression on his face. “We never did figure out if Sela was actually Thrai or not,” he said, referring to a Tal Shiar codename they had come across more than once. “If she is, we’ve already been throwing spanners in her machinery for months now.”
“Yeah. Three times we’ve screwed up her plans, if we’re right and the Romulans on Terra were working for her.”
“Do you suppose she’s noticed us?” Boimler wondered.
“Maybe. She’s smart on her own, and she has plenty of smart Tal Shiar analysts working for her. Not to mention, who knows how many Romulan agents embedded in Starfleet.”
“Then this mission might move us up from nuisance to targets. If we’re not there already.”
“Maybe,” Mariner said again, and the determined expression on her face didn’t change.
Boimler sighed. “What do you need?”
“I need my cha’Dich backing me up,” said Mariner. “I need you to see the things I’m missing and keep me from running off half-cocked. I also need the best pilot I know arranging our getaway.”
He watched her face closely, and the little frown-line between his brows said he wasn’t seeing something he expected to see. “Time was, you would have run from a mission like this. It isn’t what you usually say Starfleet is supposed to be about. Now this is the third covert assignment you’ve accepted in the past year. What’s changed?”
“I don’t know.” Mariner stopped to give the question some honest thought. Another new habit. “I suppose I’ve grown up a little. Or maybe I’ve decided missions like this, they’re the price we pay to make sure Starfleet and the Federation are still around, so we can do the cool stuff the rest of the time.”
“Careful. That sounds like something Section 31 would say.”
Mariner shook her head. “Section 31, and forgive the slam at your clone-brother, are a bunch of arrogant assholes who think they know better than anyone else. Including the Starfleet chain of command, the legitimate civilian government, and the whole idea of the rule of law.”
“As if you’ve never decided you know better than the chain of command,” Boimler pointed out.
“Oh yeah, once or twice.” Mariner frowned. “Maybe there’s no difference. I still think I’ve been able to keep track of my moral center. Whereas Section 31 tends to forget why they should even have one.”
“Fair.” Boimler looked back at the briefing documents. “I’m in.”
Mariner felt as if she had been ready to push against a stone wall, only to have it fall over the moment she stepped up to it. “Really?”
Boimler made a sour expression. “Don’t sound so surprised. Somebody needs to come along to keep you out of trouble.”
Stardate 60385.0
Starbase 234
The woman standing at attention in Mariner’s office was larger than life. Five or six centimeters taller than Mariner, solidly built, with strong features and close-cropped black hair. Not conventionally pretty, but with plenty of chárisma in the classical sense. Engineering gold looked good on her, but then almost anything would look good on her. The bioluminescent construct around her head shimmered softly, resembling a wreath of gilded laurel leaves.
“At ease, Lieutenant,” said Mariner. “You’re not in trouble.”
Olivia Kastanidis, “Olly” to her friends, relaxed slightly. “Oh. I’m not?”
“You know, you need to come out of that crouch. Now that you’ve opened up about your . . . ancestry, and you’ve been practicing with your powers, you’ve got them under much better control. Which has been letting your natural talent for engineering shine through. Commander Billups and Lieutenant Rutherford have had nothing but praise for your work.”
“Sorry.” She relaxed a little more. “I’m so used to my career always being on the edge of falling apart.”
“Believe me, I remember how that goes. I had my own tiger by the ears for a long time. No, you’re here because I have a mission, and I wanted to offer you a spot on the team.”
“I accept,” said Olly at once.
Mariner blinked. “You haven’t even heard what the mission is yet.”
Olly cocked her head. “It’s some kind of off-the-books black-ops mission, right? Like on the Roman planet.”
“I really hope that isn’t circulating around the lower decks,” Mariner said, with a hint in her voice suggesting Olly might be in trouble after all.
“Oh, no. I mean, if I’m not here for a reprimand, what other reason would there be for you to call me into your office? Your highly secure office, with comms offline and the counter-surveillance systems on full?”
“You can sense them?” Mariner asked.
Olly nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been getting a lot better at sensing the flow of electricity around me. It’s like I’m a tricorder on passive, all the time. Helps a lot in Engineering, let me tell you.”
“I’ll bet it does.” Mariner watched her for another moment, then nodded to herself. “Well, you’re not wrong. I’m putting together a team for a caper. We’re going in to recover a Tal Shiar asset for Starfleet Intelligence, or at least to make sure the Romulans can’t use it the way they intend to. It shouldn’t be dangerous if everything goes according to plan, but how often does that happen?”
“Yeah.” Olly grinned. “Promise, no thunderbolts this time?”
“I understand T’Lyn made you that promise last time, and you ended up having to go all Zeus on some Romans anyway.”
The grin vanished. “True. I got scared, and let loose with a lot more power than I’d planned.”
“Don’t kick yourself. Shaxs tells me those Romans were getting ready to open fire on your whole team. Instead, you blew their vehicle sky-high and bought your people time to get away clean. Job well done.” Mariner smiled. “On the other hand, this op is going to be even more covert than that one. I’m thinking more along the lines of a little quiet electrokinesis, backed by your engineering expertise, to help defeat some security systems.”
“That much, I can do. And if you do need a thunderbolt or two, say while we’re making our getaway . . .”
“I know just the girl to call.”
Stardate 60385.7
Starbase 234
Tendi’s voice went a little shrill. “Another covert mission?”
Mariner sat back, watching as Tendi and Rutherford exchanged glances. They seemed to be saying a lot to each other without speaking a word aloud. Almost as well as Mariner herself could manage with T’Lyn these days, but without the benefit of Vulcan telepathy. She decided to look away, giving them a little privacy to sort it out.
Tendi and Rutherford’s quarters said a lot about the two of them. Every available horizontal surface was cluttered with beakers, odd bits of electronic gear, padds, scientific instruments, tools . . . but all of it was jumbled together, as if to make clear all their weird little side projects were joint efforts. Then there was the sleeping nook, with the bed that somehow shouted love nest even when it was made up to Academy standards. Possibly it was the throw pillows with red and green heart shapes embroidered on them.
One glance tells you these are a couple of enormous science-and-tech nerds who are also madly in love with each other.
“Where are we going?” Rutherford asked, pulling Mariner’s attention back to her friends.
“We may not be going anywhere,” Tendi muttered.
“This time we’re not heading into Romulan space, or messing around with a Prime Directive situation,” said Mariner. “It’s a nice, civilized place. Freecloud.”
Tendi scoffed. “Freecloud is just a place where you humans go to behave like Ferengi.”
“Sort of,” Mariner admitted. “It’s a Federation member world, but the colonists were big anarcho-capitalist types. They still use money, and there’s a lot of private enterprise. It’s a high-tech industrial center and a trade nexus for several sectors. The local laws are pretty relaxed.”
“From what I hear, the local laws are just about nonexistent,” said Rutherford.
“Their government is kind of minimalist, yeah. About all they let it do is provide security and enforce contracts. It does a good job on those, though. Freecloud security is tight. You need to work for a living and read the fine print on contracts, but you don’t need to worry about being mugged, or getting killed in a Klingon or Romulan raid.”
“Have you ever been there?” Tendi challenged her.
“Nope. This will be my first time.”
“All I can say is, you’d better watch your own back,” Tendi said sharply. “You can’t afford to pay Freecloud security’s going rates to watch it for you.”
“I was kind of thinking I might have my friends doing that,” Mariner said.
Tendi sighed and rolled her eyes, perhaps looking for some Orion deity to lend her strength. “Okay, let’s suppose Rutherford and I are in. What do you need us to do?”
“Rutherford’s my hacker, of course, and working with T’Lyn on overwatch. You’d be on infiltration, with Olly to back you up.”
Tendi suddenly looked thoughtful. “This isn’t just a covert op, is it? This is going to be a heist.”
“You got it. There are some resources we want to, um, re-allocate from the Tal Shiar. Especially from Sela.”
Mariner saw it, the moment when a little spark of interest lit in Tendi’s eyes. She glanced at Rutherford again, who was smiling gently now.
“Come on, mahal,” said Rutherford. “This sounds like something you could do in your sleep.”
“Well.” Tendi tried to give Mariner a severe glance, but the corners of her mouth were twitching a little too much. “I will admit, the Tal Shiar have really been annoying me, the last few months. I had friends on Nimbus III. It would be fun to win some of our own back from them.”
Mariner grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
“All right,” said Tendi. “We’re in.”
Mariner noticed she hadn’t asked Rutherford, but he didn’t seem to mind.
Stardate 60386.0
Starbase 234
It was late in the ship’s evening, and Mariner’s wife was doubtless waiting for her in their quarters, but she had one more call to make. One more person to convince to join her team.
Back in her office, she locked the door and brought up all the security measures again. She sat down at her desk, pulled the monitor around, and turned it on.
“Computer. Open a channel, authentication code Mariner-three-five-niner-gamma-two-six.”
The monitor made its happy-computer chirp, but the connection took an unusual amount of time to go through. Mariner wasn’t surprised. Her target was only a few parsecs away, but the transmission was passing through at least three layers of encryption and half a dozen relay points, changing the routing every few seconds. Mariner was fairly sure Starfleet Intelligence wouldn’t be able to make sense out of this conversation.
In fact, I’m betting quite a bit on it.
Finally, the monitor flickered and the PLEASE WAIT graphic vanished. A woman’s face appeared: fair complexion, luminous blue eyes, straight nose, full lips, cleft chin, honey-blonde hair falling loose to her shoulders. Rather classically beautiful, in fact, were it not for the rather obtrusive cybernetic implant framing her left eye.
“You have two minutes,” she said, “and only because of the very extensive precautions you have taken to keep this call secure.”
“Fair enough. I’m Lieutenant Beckett Mariner, assigned to the Cerritos but currently working for Rear Admiral Ichiro Koyamatsu. Don’t hang up!” Mariner cried, as she saw the woman reach for her cutoff switch. “Starfleet Intelligence doesn’t know I’m making this call. I’ve got a mission which I think will be of interest to the Fenris Rangers. Maybe to you, personally.”
The woman paused, then relaxed, drawing back from her monitor. “Beckett Mariner. I have heard of you.”
“Well, that might be either good or bad.”
“Good, in this case. A . . . friend has mentioned you to me.”
“We’ll be going ahead with the mission with or without you,” said Mariner, trying not to think too hard about that little detail. “But I think our chances of success improve a lot with you on the team, and the Rangers might benefit too.”
There was a long moment of silence. Then: “Tell me more,” said Seven of Nine.
Chapter Text
They arrived on Freecloud by civilian transport.
Troy Basco and his wife Vanessa were vacationers from Deneva. They were the acid test, to see whether Starfleet Intelligence-provided “legends” would stand up to Freecloud security. The first sign all was going as it should was the barrage of holographic advertisements they received while their passenger ship was on final approach to Stardust City. Mr. Basco was offered special deals on fishing equipment and excursions to the Sawtelle Islands. Mrs. Basco got ads for a prestigious spa, and (to her red-faced embarrassment) a discreet male escort service. The two of them put on a show of bickering over that last item while they went through customs, but privately they were well pleased. Freecloud was unaware of the presence of a Starfleet engineer and the Mistress of the Winter Constellations.
Naomi Webb checked into the Stardust City Grand in a blaze of publicity, an up-and-coming holo-star with a whiff of scandal about her. She appeared in the hotel’s bars, restaurants, and salons, and ventured out into the streets to shop with an unlimited budget. She flirted with men, women, and at least one pair of Bynars, but she stayed playful and didn’t accept any of their offers. She also hinted she had a weakness for gambling, and might be venturing to one of Freecloud’s famous casinos before long.
T'Pel arrived quietly, staying in the only Vulcan hostel in Stardust City. She was a simple researcher in economics and xenoanthropology, there to study some of the wilder outliers of human society. She visited local data centers, reviewing public records and asking vaguely innocuous questions, and Freecloud took no notice of her at all. After all, it was hard to make much profit from a Vulcan.
The free-trader captain Bellerophon Smith arrived at Freecloud at the helm of his battered old merchant ship Pegasus, trailing Alpha Quadrant arrest warrants from Antares to Bajor. He had a cargo of kevas and trillium to unload at Stardust City, and was outraged to discover that he could only get a quarter of the price he expected for it. He and his first mate, Nike Pagrati, took to visiting the spaceport bars, looking for new consignments that could keep their old bird flying a little while longer.
None of them ever found out how Seven made her way to Freecloud. She simply turned up at their first strategy session, wearing a leather jacket over a camouflage-pattern shirt, with a pair of tough corduroy trousers and solid boots. Her expression was more stoic than T’Lyn’s, and her distant manner discouraged questions.
Stardate 60403.7
Freecloud
The seven of them met in Naomi Webb’s outrageously luxurious suite at the Stardust City Grand. At first, they all stayed in character and talked about nothing of importance, like any chance-met acquaintances. More than one of Mariner’s friends looked askance at the small cage sitting in a corner of the room, covered with a dark cloth, from which the occasional hissing sound emerged.
Before long, Tendi, Rutherford, and Seven finished scanning the suite and ensuring they were free of surveillance. Only then did the team break character, gathering around the conversation pit in the suite’s living area. Mariner set up a holo-display, which generated an image to slowly rotate in mid-air: an ordinary-looking briefcase, the kind any well-connected traveler might carry to secure small, light valuables.
“This is the target,” said Mariner.
“A briefcase?” Boimler wondered.
Mariner scoffed, and touched a control. The image of the briefcase opened, to show the contents: mostly foam padding, with a single long, slender crystal tucked into a pocket on top. “Not the briefcase, but what’s inside it. A Cardassian optolythic data rod. Can only be written to once, can’t be erased or altered once the data has been recorded. Perfectly secure, impossible to forge.”
“Okay, I’ll bite,” said Tendi. “What’s on this data rod?”
“A cryptographic certificate,” said Mariner. “It provides the only possible authentication code for a numbered Bank of Freecloud account. Which in turn contains a little over five billion Federation credits in Tal Shiar operating funds.”
Rutherford made a long, low whistle.
Mariner smiled at all of them. “You can say that again. Our objective is to recover the data rod for Starfleet Intelligence and substitute one with an invalid certificate,” and here she held up another crystal, identical in appearance to the one in the hologram. “Failing that, our fallback position is to destroy the original. Either way, Sela and her Tal Shiar faction will never be able to access their money.”
“Ballsy,” said Rutherford. “I like it. I assume we have a plan?”
“That’s what we’re here to thrash out, but yeah. I’ve got a first draft.” Mariner tapped controls, and a new image appeared: floor plans for a large building. “The certificate is currently stored in the secure vault at the Crowninshield, the most filthy-rich casino in Stardust City. Also the most shady. SI assesses that William Crowninshield, the owner, is a Tal Shiar asset who’s in negotiations to go over to Sela.
“Crowninshield has top-notch security. Plainclothes guards and lots of surveillance on the casino floor. Armed and uniformed guards in the secure section of the building. Access to the secure section is limited by photo ID and key-cards, which include biometric checks. You’re not in the employee database, you don’t get into the secure section. You don’t get into the secure section, you can’t even come close to the vault. That’s the first obstacle.
“Second obstacle is the vault. The thing is so massive it would take a photon torpedo to blow it open. Transporter suppression is in place. The vault door is protected by three separate lock systems, every one of them state of the art. The two electronic lock systems are independent of each other, and they’re standalone, so we can’t hack them remotely. They’re also shielded against electrical impulses, so we can’t open them on-site with any of Tendi’s gizmos or Olly’s electrokinesis. The third lock system is completely mechanical anyway.”
Tendi had a fiercely intent expression, as if she was making plans of her own. “What’s the catch?”
“The catch is, sometimes Crowninshield is called on to store living valuables,” said Mariner.
“Ah!” Tendi grinned, and her eyes lit up. “So the vault needs to have life support systems. Ventilation, climate control, bio-safe fire suppression, that kind of thing.”
“Right.” Mariner reached into the holographic display, gesturing to expand the schematics and pan into the secure section of the casino building. “The vault is connected to its own set of ventilation ducts, but those are accessible from spaces here, here, and here. The ducts are cramped but there’s enough room to wriggle though. They’re wired, of course. Pressure plates and a laser grid, but both of those can be defeated if we’re clever. That’s our way in.
“The vault itself has temperature sensors and video surveillance, but those can be hacked locally. What can’t be hacked is the pressure plates in the vault itself. So we have to operate in there without even touching the vault floor. Fortunately the ventilation system is overhead, so we can lower someone into the vault on a rope harness.”
“Why not use an anti-grav harness?” Boimler suggested.
“No good,” said Tendi. “Anti-grav creates distortions in the local gravitational gradient. No way to avoid it, that’s just how the technology works. If the pressure plates in the vault are sensitive enough, zooming around on an anti-grav harness would trigger them.”
“So we’re going old school, then,” said Rutherford.
“Looks that way,” said Mariner. “So here’s the plan, short form. First we need Tendi and Olly to be credentialed as Crowninshield employees, complete with photo ID, key-cards, and entries in the employee database. Seven and Rutherford, that’s your job.”
Seven nodded, her face still impassive.
“Meanwhile, I pay a visit to the Crowninshield and hint that I want to open a big line of credit in the casino . . . but my dear little Paws won’t be welcome on the casino floor, so she needs to be kept someplace safe for a few hours while I gamble.”
The cage in the corner hissed, as if on cue.
“What is that?” Boimler wondered.
“Tarkassian slicer cat,” said Mariner. “Nasty little thing, but somehow it purrs and goes all kittenish when Naomi Webb is around. Amazing what a little pheromone spray can do.”
Tendi nodded. “So you guarantee there’s something living in Crowninshield’s vault, and the life support systems are all active.”
“Right,” said Mariner. “So I spend a couple hours swanning around on the casino floor, winning at the blackjack and poker tables and generally attracting attention. T’Lyn is my overwatch, running numbers for me and helping me keep watch on the casino floor. At the same time, Tendi and Olly infiltrate the secure section and climb into the ventilation ducts. Rutherford is their overwatch, helping them hack through the defenses in the ventilation system and the vault. Tendi gets lowered into the vault, she pulls the substitution, she and Olly make their way back out. Boims and Seven are on security, and they stay ready to fire up the Pegasus and take us off-planet. That’s the plan, rough draft. Now help me poke holes in it.”
Afterward, Mariner was pleased that the team hadn’t found any significant defects in her original plan. Three hours of work had certainly improved upon it, building in contingencies for all the things that could go wrong, but the initial outline was still visible.
Rutherford, Tendi, and Seven were the first to leave, ready to start their part of the plan that same evening. Tendi had managed to draw Seven out a little, enough to get her input on the next steps and even see a slight smile at a joke. Mariner saw them to the door, and watched them go with satisfaction.
That fleeting pleasure faded as soon as she turned back and saw Boimler’s face. He and Olly still sat together on the same couch they had taken through the meeting, and they had been watching Seven as she departed. Now he spoke up. “Mariner, I’m not comfortable with one of our teammates.”
Mariner kept her face under strict control, as she returned to the armchair from which she had been presiding over their meeting. “Let me guess. Seven is making you nervous.”
“Well, no, not the way you’re thinking.” Boimler exchanged a significant glance with Olly, then turned back to Mariner with a serious expression on his face. “Come on, that’s Seven of Nine. She did amazing things on Voyager. They wouldn’t have made it home as soon as they did without her. Or at all, more likely. She’s got the skills to be a huge asset.”
“Right,” said Mariner, rather grimly. “But she’s ex-Borg, and she’s not in Starfleet, not even a Federation citizen. You’re wondering how far she can be trusted.”
Boimler looked unhappy. “Can you be sure she doesn’t hold a grudge?”
“If she does, don’t you think she’s earned it?” Mariner shook her head angrily. “Boims, this is a woman who by law ought to be a Federation citizen by birth. Her idiot parents got her assimilated by the Borg when she was six years old. For twenty-four years she had no free will of her own. Never had a choice in what she did, or what was done to her. Once Voyager separated her from the collective, she came around and worked damn hard to help them. Against all odds, they got back to Federation space, and what did Starfleet do? What did the Federation do? They stripped her of the citizenship she ought to have by right, and threw her out on her ass. They don’t do that to rapists and murderers, but they did it to her. You ask me, the way they’ve treated her is one of the most dishonorable things the Federation has done in my lifetime.”
Boimler and Olly were staring at her, Olly with wide eyes. From the shadowed corner where T’Lyn was sitting, a calming thought came through their link.
Yeah, I guess I’m a little pissed off about this. Sorry, babe.
“Look, I get it,” she said, making an effort to tone it down. “She’s not Starfleet, and they have some bad history with her. In theory she could double-cross us at some point . . . but her current affiliation is with the Fenris Rangers. They support planetary law enforcement and self-defense on the Federation frontier. She’s a cop, for Q’s sake. She’s got absolutely no reason to double-cross us for Sela, of all people.”
“Okay, Mariner. I’ll trust your judgment on this one.” Boimler glanced at Olly again, and started to smile. “Besides, as usual you’re being a sucker for second chances. You think if Seven helps us out on this job, Admiral Koyamatsu might be willing to go to bat for her with Starfleet and the Federation.”
Mariner shrugged. “The thought had occurred to me, although it was about fourth on my priority list. I just think she’ll be a great asset to the team, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to work with her. I mean, come on, short of teaming up with Admiral Janeway or Captain Chakotay, who would you rather add to your bingo card?”
“Huh. You’re probably right. Although isn’t Captain Chakotay off in the Delta Quadrant again?”
“Last I heard,” Mariner agreed. “So who knows when any of us will see him again. Let’s enjoy what we’ve got, okay? I bet if we earn Seven’s trust, and draw her out a little, we’ll hear some fantastic stories.”
“Yeah.” Boimler rose from the couch, Olly following suit, and the two of them made their goodbyes. Ready to go out and be Bellerophon Smith and Nike Pagrati again, until their parts of the plan were about to get under way.
Which left Mariner alone with T’Lyn.
The Vulcan rose from her chair and walked across to stand over Mariner. She held out two fingers, and accepted Mariner’s touch. “You are concealing something,” she said.
“I’m concealing a lot of things,” said Mariner cautiously.
T’Lyn’s eyebrow twitched, and her micro-expression spoke of annoyance. “Beckett, we spoke of this on our wedding day. There will be times when duty requires us to keep secrets from each other, as difficult as that may be. I can tell this is not one of those times.”
Mariner sighed. “Maybe I want to keep this secret, because what you don’t know about can’t get you in trouble.”
The annoyance grew, but it was mixed with affection. “Your logic is faulty on two counts. First, you lack the skill as yet to keep anything secret from me for long, so there is no point in trying. Second, have you forgotten what you said to my mother?”
“No,” said Mariner, knowing exactly what T’Lyn meant. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“We are t’hy’lara, you and I, and that governs my actions as much as it does yours. Where you go, I go. Whatever challenges you face, I face them with you.”
“All right.” Mariner rose, took her wife into her embrace, gave her a gentle kiss, and allowed the link between their minds to flow freely. When she drew back, T’Lyn was watching her with eyes gone wide with surprise.
“I see,” she said. “I will keep this secret.”
“You sure? Admiral Koyamatsu will not be happy if things work out the way I think they might.”
“Perhaps,” said T’Lyn, “but he will have little cause for complaint. After all, we will have succeeded in meeting the mission objectives.”
“Ugh, somehow I don’t think that will make much difference.” Mariner gave her a rueful smile. “Who knows, maybe the contingencies just won’t line up. Let’s take this one step at a time.”
“Agreed.”
Notes:
I'm taking some of Seven's back story from the novel "Firewall," by David Mack, which (in case it needs to be clear) was published in early 2024.
A note on the timeline: I have Chakotay being promoted to Captain and assigned to take the USS *Protostar* back to the Delta Quadrant no later than October 2382. This story takes place in May 2383, so at this point Chakotay has been away (and missing in action) for several months. Mariner and her friends probably aren't privy to most of the details, though.
Chapter Text
Stardate 60404.1
Freecloud
Late at night, the Mistress of the Winter Constellations found herself on a stakeout. Although she wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for.
She didn’t look like a major Orion house’s lead assassin. She was the wrong color, for one thing. Her outfit was casual and brightly colorful, and none of the knives and other small weapons on her person were visible. She looked very much like a wide-eyed human tourist, sitting with her husband at a street-side table, drinking Irish coffee and nibbling from a charcuterie board while she watched the Stardust City nightlife go by.
“Female, human, heading north,” she murmured between bites of cheese.
“Noted,” said Seven’s voice over their comms. “Pass.”
“Weird, how this feels so different from that time on Ferenginar,” Rutherford observed.
“What do you mean?”
“The last time we had to pretend to be a married couple, we were kind of a disaster at it.”
Tendi reached across the table to pat his hand. “We’ve resolved a few things since then. Not as much to pretend about.”
Rutherford snorted laughter. “Also, no hug-cierge hovering over us, ready to throw us in jail the moment he noticed we were putting on an act.”
“That too.” Tendi focused on the front doors of the Crowninshield Casino across the street. “Female, Andorian, heading north.”
“Noted. Pass.”
“I wish I knew what she was looking for,” Tendi muttered to herself.
“A male, preferably human, wearing clothing typical of a Crowninshield employee, who is alone and walking north from the casino.” Seven’s voice was as emotionless as ever, but Tendi thought she could hear a trace of annoyance.
“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean for that to go out over comms.” Tendi frowned, her cup of Irish coffee pausing on its way to her lips. “Wait, are you planning to mug someone?”
“No. If that were the plan, a female would be an acceptable target.”
Rutherford cocked a disapproving eyebrow, probably expressing his opinion of someone who would willingly mug a woman.
“In any case, the victim of a mugging would have reason to report the incident to Crowninshield security. We require that our temporary theft of casino credentials go unnoticed.”
“Got it. Female, human, heading south.”
“Noted. Pass.”
“Three women in a row leaving the casino and walking out onto the streets on their own,” Rutherford observed. “What are the odds?”
“Mariner must not have been kidding, when she said Freecloud security was tight. The streets at night are fairly safe.” Tendi’s gaze sharpened. “Hold on.”
A human male had walked out the front doors of Crowninshield, wearing distinctive clothing: black trousers, white shirt, brown sleeveless vest, black bow-tie, carrying a black jacket thrown over one shoulder as if it was too warm to be put on. The man paused for a moment, then turned north and began to amble along the street.
“Male, human, heading north. Looks like he might be a croupier or dealer.”
“Noted. Stand by.” Silence on the line for a moment, then Seven continued. “Albert Harrington, age 32, single, lives alone, residence is five blocks north of here. Likely walking home. This is our target.”
Tendi glanced at Rutherford, her eyebrows flying high in surprise. “She’s reading Freecloud databases? She’s almost as talented a hacker as you are, Sam.”
“More,” he said, waving his credit stick at the table to pay for their snacks.
The two of them rose from their table and set out northward on the other side of the street, strolling along at a relaxed pace, still playing the part of vacationing lovers enjoying Stardust City’s glitter. They didn’t try to keep Harrington in view, knowing Seven had the mark covered.
“Target acquired,” came Seven’s voice. Then, a few moments later, “Target under control. Come ahead, and meet me across the street from the Oak Ridge Apartments complex.”
Soon enough, they found Seven standing in a shadowed patch of sidewalk, under a leafy tree that was blocking most of the light from the nearest street-lamp. She looked entirely relaxed, her hands in her jacket pockets, watching the façade of an apartment building across the way.
“Where’s Mr. Harrington?” Rutherford wondered.
“About now, he will be arriving at his apartment door in the care of a friend of mine,” said Seven. “She has injected him with an hypnotic. We should give her a few more minutes before we follow.”
“Who’s this friend of yours?” Tendi asked.
“Someone much more likely than I would be to get close to our target without any need for violence,” said Seven flatly. “She is also an associate of the Fenris Rangers. She can be trusted.”
Tendi gave her a skeptical glance, but decided not to raise any objections.
The three of them stood together under the tree, waiting. Rutherford produced a tricorder and made a discreet scan of the Oak Ridge building. “Not much security over there.”
“Freecloud apartment buildings sell privacy as part of the service,” said Seven. “There will be no alarms or surveillance cameras covering the building as a whole. My friend will have disabled any security Mr. Harrington has installed in his own rooms.”
Just then, Tendi saw the lights dim, then rise again, in a room on the fourth floor of the building. Even before Seven spoke, she knew that was the signal they had been waiting for.
Seven had been correct. There was a single bored-looking security guard in the lobby, but she didn’t glance up as the three of them passed. No one challenged them on their way up to the fourth floor. Seven led them to a specific numbered door, which she opened and passed through.
Seven’s “friend” turned out to be a tall, slender, strikingly attractive human woman, with cool dark eyes and a mane of curly brunette hair, wearing a stylish and somewhat revealing evening gown in silver and white. Her demeanor was cold and businesslike, at odds with the playful sensuality of her clothes and makeup. “Took you long enough,” was her comment the moment Seven’s team arrived.
“Hurrying attracts attention,” said Seven. “How is the target?”
“Resting comfortably in his bedroom,” said the stranger. “I’ve already had him strip down, to get ready for what he thinks is going to happen tonight, and I saw where he put his casino ID.”
“Good job.” Seven turned to her teammates. “No real names. This is my friend Jay. Jay, this is Troy and Vanessa.”
“Jay” gave them a brisk nod, and did not offer to shake hands. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Harrington’s bedroom seemed a typical bachelor-male-human’s nest, somewhat untidy and smelling strongly of its inhabitant. The lights had been turned down, but Tendi could see Harrington sprawled across his bed, unclothed and rather obviously aroused. His head turned when Jay and Tendi appeared in the doorway. “Hey, sweetie, you coming?” he murmured, his voice vague and his eyes wandering slightly. “Who’s your friend?”
“There’s nobody here but me,” said Jay in a low voice. “Why don’t you take a little nap, while I have a shower? I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
“. . . Okay,” said Harrington. He obediently closed his eyes and went to sleep.
“What did you give him?” Tendi wondered.
Jay’s voice took on a sharp edge. “You questioning my tactics, Vanessa?”
Tendi caught the other woman’s gaze, keeping her own facial expression detached. “Just curious, in case I need the trick myself someday.”
“Oh.” Jay shrugged. “Tetrostaramidol, two milligrams for his body mass.”
Tendi nodded in approval. “Fast, effective, doesn’t prevent the subject from moving or walking normally under guidance, non-habit-forming, leaves behind almost no trace in the bloodstream.”
“What are you, some kind of medic?”
Tendi gave her a sharp-edged smile. “I’ve been a medic. Among other things.”
Jay nodded and said nothing, simply opening a drawer in Harrington’s bedside table and pointing to his key card.
Tendi already had thin gloves on, so as not to leave fingerprints or other skin residues behind. Now she carefully picked up the card by its edges and carried it out into the main room of the apartment. Rutherford had already broken out his tools, while Seven watched with interest.
“I’ll need a full set of biometrics from him,” said Rutherford, taking the card and inserting it into a reader.
“Got it,” said Tendi, taking out her tricorder and returning to the bedroom.
She found Jay sitting on the edge of Harrington’s bed, not touching him, but bending close to murmur in his ear. She recognized what the other woman was up to: maintaining and deepening Harrington’s hypnotic state, then encouraging his mind to form detailed false memories to cover the missing time. Tendi stepped around to the other side of Harrington’s bed, turning her tricorder’s scanning warble off so as not to introduce any extraneous sounds. A few moments of work, including close focus on Harrington’s fingertips and eyes, and she had a complete profile for him.
“Okay-dokey,” Rutherford muttered, his usual easy smile vanished, replaced by a fiercely intent expression. Tendi and Seven watched him work, Tendi feeling a touch of proprietary pride. It didn’t take long before he pulled Harrington’s card out of the reader. Looking up, he said, “All done. I’ve got a template for the data on the card, and I’ve identified the cryptographic handshake it uses to interact with the casino database. I should be able to clone cards for you and, uh, Nike as soon as we get back to base.”
“Everything good to go?” asked Jay, who had come to stand in the doorway.
“Should be,” said Rutherford. He held out Harrington’s card for her to take. “Thanks for your help.”
“My pleasure,” she said, but her eyes strayed to Seven.
Seven stepped over and, to Tendi’s surprise, caressed Jay’s cheek and gave her a quick but thorough kiss on the lips. “You should wait an hour before leaving, in case someone asks at the front desk later.”
“An hour?” Jay grinned. “You know better than that, love. Three hours, not a moment less. My pride demands it.”
“If you say so. I will not be the one sitting around bored for that long.”
“I’m sure I’ll find some way to keep myself entertained. Good luck with your mission.”
Stardate 60405.7
Freecloud
Naomi Webb came sauntering up to Crowninshield’s front door in a blaze of publicity. Freecloud apparently had papparazi, and they and their flying cameras were in full force when she stepped out of her car and walked up the casino’s long staircase. She bestowed her patented thousand-watt smile to all sides, and otherwise ignored her admirers. Fashion experts in the pack were agog at her crimson silk gown, especially given the implications of the large feline creature riding her shoulder. The dress had to be more thoroughly reinforced than its wispy appearance would suggest, otherwise the slicer-cat’s claws would have nothing to sink into but the diva’s tender flesh.
The papparazi vanished as soon as Mariner entered the building, allowing her the chance to stride across the lobby toward the casino floor unimpeded. At least until she entered the casino’s vestibule, where a trio of impeccably dressed security personnel intercepted her.
“We’re sorry, Ms. Webb,” said the team leader, “but we cannot permit your animal to accompany you onto the floor.”
Mariner’s eyes went wide with offended surprise. “That’s nonsense! Paws has never harmed anyone. Unless they threatened me, of course. You aren’t threatening me, are you, boys?”
“Of course not, Ms. Webb, and we don’t doubt your, ah, pet is perfectly harmless,” he said, in a tone that oozed flawless sincerity. “Unfortunately, the other guests don’t know that, and are likely to be distracted from their entertainment if it accompanies you. We can offer Paws a comfortable place to rest, with food and water, while you enjoy your time with us.”
She sighed dramatically. “Paws is such a rare creature, and quite valuable. I would be devastated if anything happened to him while I was out having fun.”
“Please accept my assurances, Ms. Webb, Paws will be quite safe.” He lifted a hand to his face to activate his internal comms. “Prepare the secure vault for biological containment, and send me a Class-C feline environment enclosure.”
“Oh, if we must.” Mariner looked up at the creature riding her shoulder, reaching up to stroke its fur and otherwise fuss over it. “It’s just another place you can’t go with Mommy, sweetheart. You’ll have to be patient. These nice men will take care of you until we’re ready to leave. Be sure not to eat any of them while I’m playing!”
The vicious predator made a small mewling sound and rubbed against her hand.
Tendi went in first, dressed in street clothes but carrying a kit-bag that contained the skimpy costume of a Crowninshield cocktail hostess. A hidden compartment in the bottom of the bag contained some of the tools she was planning to take with her against the secure vault.
First, though, she needed to get past the security check.
Rutherford is a genius, she kept telling herself. Besides, Seven and I both checked his work.
It didn’t help with the fluttery sensation in her gut that always happened before a dangerous action. The thing humans called “butterflies in the stomach.”
What a horrible image.
She stepped up to the security checkpoint, giving the two guards behind the podium a bright smile, and handed over her forged key card. One guard took the card and examined it, comparing the photo to her face, while the other pointed to the biometric checks. “Retinal scan, then thumbprint,” he said in a bored tone.
“Of course!” she said, and bent close to the scanner. Red light in her eye, then a thumb pressed to the clear pad, and she hoped the casino’s security systems wouldn’t be keyed to tell the difference between human and Orion biometrics.
A light turned green. The first guard handed back her key card. She was through.
Tendi made her way through the utilitarian corridors of the casino’s secure section, all tile floors and institutional-beige walls with harsh fluorescent lighting. She didn’t need signage to point her in the right direction, the map she had memorized was enough. She was on guard for anyone who thought a hostess was in the wrong section, but no one paid any attention to her. Before long, she was able to use her key card to unlock a utility room off an out-of-the-way corridor.
Then it was time to break out her tools, put on her harness, and wait.
With Paws safely cared for, Naomi Webb strutted out onto the casino floor. On the way, she passed through a scanning field that verified she had not the slightest whiff of forbidden technology about her. No hidden computational devices, no concealed communicators, no cybernetic implants. Just her.
Well, her and the not-technologically-traceable telepathic link to her Vulcan wife. Who was an expert mathematician with all the computer support she might need at her fingertips.
I’m in, she sent to T’Lyn. Time to hit the baccarat table.
Baccarat was a perfect game for her first venture. It had a reputation for being an elegant, high-society game, and it tended to attract high rollers, but it required very little skill to play. Indeed, skill was almost beside the point. The house advantage was low, about one percent per game, but there was absolutely nothing the player could do to reduce it further. T’Lyn would be bored . . . but Mariner could work on her first objective, which was to start attracting a lot of attention.
Playing the game flawlessly didn’t require much focus, so she could concentrate on being Naomi Webb. She flirted shamelessly with the croupier, exchanged witty comments with the other players, and signed an autograph when one of them asked. Before twenty minutes had passed, she knew the names and occupations of everyone else at her table, and she was beginning to attract guests who stopped outside the rope barrier to watch her play.
She was also four or five strips of latinum ahead, which was something of a surprise.
Lieutenant Kastanidis has reached the first objective, came T’Lyn’s thought across the link.
In response, Mariner smiled and pushed away from the baccarat table. “Well, this has been a fun warm-up, but I’m feeling like something with a little higher stakes.”
“Might you be interested in the blackjack tables?” inquired the croupier.
“No thanks, love,” she said, but she slid a strip of latinum across the table for him. “I’d rather play something that won’t get me thrown out if I happen to be good at it. How about some poker? You have any high-roller’s games going on today?”
They did. There was one starting in just a few minutes. Which Mariner had known in advance, of course.
Olly arrived at the utility room about fifteen minutes after Tendi, wearing a technician’s uniform, including a protective hard hat that completed her disguise and incidentally covered up her laurel.
“Any trouble getting through security?” Tendi asked, wondering what had taken so long.
“No. I had a terrible time finding this room, though. All these corridors look the same.”
Tendi gave her a bright-eyes glance. “You live and work on a Federation starship. The signage there is much worse than it is here. Even admirals get lost on their own ships sometimes.”
“I know. In my defense, Main Engineering is a lot easier to find than Utility Closet Three-delta.”
“I suppose. Come on, let’s get busy.”
Olly may have been slow to find her target, but she was efficient about getting on task. In moments, she had broken her share of their tools out of her kit and helped Tendi to stack crates under the vent cover they intended to open. Tendi climbed up toward the ceiling, and attached a small communications device to the wall just outside the vent cover’s edge.
Tiny lights came on. Rutherford was already at work.
“Sensor on the vent cover . . . okay, that’s frozen. Now for the pressure plates in the vent . . .”
Tendi took the time to peer through the vent cover. Orion vision went a little further into the infrared than human, so she could – just barely – see the first laser grid in the vent. The air in the vent was too clean for her to trace it in detail, so that would have to wait.
“Okey-dokey. Pressure sensors are frozen.”
Tendi produced a sonic screwdriver and began removing the attachments holding the vent cover in place. She was careful to put all four screws in their own pocket on her harness, and seal the pocket closed when she was done. The vent cover came off silently, and she handed it down to Olly to be put in a safe place.
Then she clambered up and began to crawl into the vent.
Thirty-six meters to go.
Naomi Webb playing competitive poker was a very different person than Naomi Webb playing baccarat. She could relax a little between hands, smiling and exchanging comments with the other players, but the moment a new hand began, she was like a statue of a woman carved out of ice. Her hands and her eyes moved minimally, and no other part of her appeared to move at all. The other players occasionally glanced at her ears and her eyebrows, maybe to look for tells, maybe to remind themselves that she was not, after all, a Vulcan.
Eight players, each of whom had paid in five bars of latinum or the equivalent. The house took eight percent off the top. Someone was going to walk away with close to thirty-seven bars of latinum, and the rest of them were going to find themselves having paid well for a few hours of entertainment.
Six of clubs, eight of diamonds. Mariner folded at once, not even listening for T’Lyn’s advice.
She took the chance to check out the casino floor. She had managed to snag a seat at the table from which she could see most of the floor, including the front doors. It helped that the poker area was raised above the rest of the floor, giving her longer lines-of-sight.
For the moment, everything seemed quiet.
D’Vana and Olivia are making progress, came T’Lyn’s thought across the link. What is your status?
Starting to get bored, she sent back. Don’t worry, I’m staying alert.
King of spades, king of hearts. Mariner matched the minimum bet. Flop shows the king of clubs, and no two cards the same suit. Okay, here we go. She raised, bet again after the turn, and by that time all the other players were out of the hand. Eight strips of profit.
Naomi Webb wasn’t the only minor celebrity at the table. Three male humans, including another minor tri-dee star and a moderately famous xenobiologist. Two other female humans, one a rather significant Federation official on vacation. An unusually tall and muscular Andorian thaan. A Tellarite male.
They had an audience, beyond the few admirers who had followed from the baccarat table. After all, the Federation official carried a whiff of scandal just being in the casino at all. The xenobiologist was sitting just to Mariner’s right, and had already been visibly rebuffed when he tried to flirt with her in the middle of the game. The Tellarite was showing signs of being too volatile to play well. The promise of drama had drawn thirty or forty guests to hover not far away, some of them watching an overhead monitor that let them see the betting and the final show of cards.
The Tellarite – Bov bim Something – was playing awfully loose and aggressive. Not many early folds, not many checks, lots of bets before the flop. Trying to bully other players out of the hands. It made it hard to tell when he actually had a good hand, since he was betting even on junk.
Ace of spades, seven of clubs. Mariner called the Tellarite’s bet, wanting to see the flop. Ace of hearts, jack of spades, seven of spades.
The Tellarite started to raise.
Probability of 69.5% that Bov bim Glent has two spades as hole cards, said T’Lyn.
Mariner made a decision. She continued to call and raise the Tellarite’s bets, but she threw in a moment of hesitation each time, as if she couldn’t help telegraphing uncertainty about her hand.
The turn: nine of diamonds.
Two bars of latinum on the table, and she and the Tellarite were the only ones still in the hand. The Tellarite was waggling his bushy eyebrows and baring his teeth in excitement.
The river: seven of hearts.
Bov bim Glent looked happy as ever, though he had to have a busted flush at best. He pushed an enormous stack of chips onto the table, enough for two full bars of latinum.
Probability of 43.8% that his hole cards are specifically the eight and ten of spades, said T’Lyn.
Right, thought Mariner. That’s about half a decent hand and half a bluff.
She raised him, which led his snout to droop a little. He hesitated, then called. Just over ten full bars of latinum on the table, and whoever lost the hand was going to be nearly wiped out. Silence had spread out from the table, everyone in the audience holding their breath.
“Straight, seven through jack,” he said, turning over his hole cards.
Mariner nodded, her face still almost Vulcan in its impassivity. “Full house, sevens over aces.”
The Tellarite emitted a polysyllabic curse, hurling himself back in his chair.
Mariner leaned out to gather up her chips, smiling to acknowledge the congratulations coming from everyone except the Tellarite. She glanced up, as if to take in the sudden rush of chatter from their audience, and that was when she saw them.
William Crowninshield, the casino’s owner, had made an appearance. He was crossing the floor with two flunkies at his side, heading for the front doors.
A group of humanoids waited there. Sharp features, up-swept eyebrows, pointed ears, they might have been taken for Vulcans at first glance. The woman in the center looked unusual for a Vulcanoid, with close-cropped blonde hair and icy blue eyes. The newcomers were wearing Vulcan formal clothing, but they stood as if they were far more accustomed to military uniforms.
Oh shit, Mariner sent across the link to T’Lyn. Sela is here.
Chapter Text
Stardate 60405.9
Freecloud
“Status report,” Rutherford’s voice demanded over comms.
Tendi didn’t answer right away, for what she considered very good reason. She was being lowered into the Crowninshield vault: head-first, looking “up” to make sure she wasn’t about to hit the floor, her legs crossed and her arms poised to keep her from spinning or swaying out of control. She imitated the image on a human playing card she had seen once.
Portrait of the artist as the Hanged Woman.
When she stopped, still about a meter and a half above the vault floor, her movement minimal, she took a moment to respond. “I’m in the vault,” she murmured.
“You’d better get back out,” said Rutherford. “Sela is here, talking to Crowninshield, and for all we know they’ll be back there in a few minutes.”
Tendi almost shook her head violently, but she restrained herself, not wanting to destabilize her position. “I’m in the vault. With any luck, I can have the substitution made and be gone in less than three minutes. Tell Mariner to stall.”
Stall? Mariner thought incredulously, once Tendi’s suggestion came across the telepathic link from T’Lyn. How am I supposed to stall?
Then she saw a way, risky as it might be. While she finished gathering up her chips, she gave Bov bim Glent a crooked smile and said, “A good hand, but I have some notes. You need to work on your tells.”
“Tells?” demanded the Tellarite. “I have no tells!”
That set a round of disbelieving scoffs and chuckles around the table.
Mariner cocked her head at him, waving her eyebrows up and down and making a bared-teeth grimace that could not have been confused for a smile. An imitation of Bov bim Glent’s behavior during the hand doubtless looked weird on a human face. “Yeah, right. The moment the turn fell and you knew you had a straight, you started broadcasting to the entire table.”
“That was not a tell! A tell is an involuntary signal. I had a strong hand and I wanted you to know it.”
“What, so I would back out and let you have the hand?” Mariner shook her head. “I’m not a krught breeba,” she said, using tone of voice to suggest like you. “I’m willing to stand up to an opponent even when I might lose, or when the outcome isn’t certain. That’s why it’s called gambling.”
The Tellarite obscenity had its effect. She saw it, the moment when he passed beyond the expected love of argument and into something a bit more personal. “You could not have known you would complete your full house!” he shouted. “Your own tells spoke of weakness.”
Mariner gave him a sharp-edged smile. “Well, as you said, a tell is an involuntary signal. I wanted you to think I had a weak hand.”
“You were cheating!”
Everyone froze, silent, and Mariner’s smile vanished, to be replaced by something hard and cold. “You had better be able to prove that,” she said, “or retract it.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw what she had hoped to see: Crowninshield crossing the casino floor toward the poker tournament area, his flunkies in tow, Sela and her aides trailing after.
Well. I wonder whether Sela will recognize me or not.
“Okie-dokie, go ahead,” said Rutherford. “T’Lyn will pass the word as soon as Sela is on the move again. Should give you maybe a couple minutes’ warning.”
“Right,” said Tendi. She glanced up past her feet, catching a glimpse of Olly’s anxious face in the ventilation duct, and then got to work.
First things first. She needed to not be hanging upside down. She jack-knifed, rotating around her midsection, then leveled out again, now parallel to the floor.
Now she glanced around, spinning slightly at the end of her tether. She saw a number of small boxes and cases on shelves, each with a numeric tag attached. Over by the door, a large cloth-covered cube growled softly, betraying where Mariner’s slicer-cat was resting in exile.
“Nice kitty,” Tendi muttered, trying not to think about what the creature would do if it got out of its cage.
Then she realized she had a problem. She peered around the vault a second time, and a third.
“Where’s the damn briefcase?” she said out loud.
“What?” Olly demanded. “What are you talking about?”
“The briefcase Mariner described to us, the one Intelligence gave us the info about. There’s nothing like it in here.”
Olly leaned out, sticking her head dangerously far into the vault. “It has to be here.”
“I’m telling you, it’s not.”
“Well, shit.”
“What seems to be the trouble here?”
William Crowninshield was tall, handsome, perfectly groomed and immaculately dressed, with fair hair and a golden, neatly trimmed Van Dyck beard. His eyes were a cold silver-grey as he evaluated the situation at the poker table. Two of his men stood close by, big and intimidating, waiting for orders.
As it happened, Sela and her aides stayed aloof at a distance, talking quietly among themselves, apparently uninterested in how Crowninshield managed his casino business. Sela might have glanced in Mariner’s direction once, but no sign of recognition crossed her face, and her cold blue eyes turned away.
“A dispute over the last hand, sir,” said the dealer. “Mr. bim Glent accuses Ms. Webb of cheating.”
Crowninshield turned his cold eyes on Mariner, then on the fuming Tellarite. “Your assessment?”
“Ms. Webb’s play was audacious but not statistically unjustifiable. I see no evidence that she or any other player have marked the cards.”
“Show me.”
The dealer passed the deck to Crowninshield, who took out a jeweler’s loupe and examined the edges of the cards closely. He also took out a small device, fanning the cards across the table and scanning their backs. Whatever he was looking for, he failed to find it.
“Ms. Webb,” he said at last. “My apologies for this unpleasantness. Please enjoy the rest of your game.”
“What?” demanded the Tellarite. “That’s all you’re going to do?”
“Sir, Ms. Webb is clearly not cheating,” said Crowninshield. “I would advise you to return to your game and be more careful about such accusations in the future.”
He subsided, still fuming, but not willing to risk being ejected from the tournament.
Crowninshield nodded to the table, and turned to go . . .
“Wait,” said Mariner. “Mr. Crowninshield, I’ve been accused of cheating at cards. That kind of accusation tends to stick, as you well know. I must insist on an apology from my accuser.”
Right. An apology from a Tellarite. Like that’ll ever happen.
“If Crowninshield knew Sela was coming today, do you think he would have moved the data?” Tendi wondered.
“Unlikely,” said T’Lyn. “The vault is the most secure location in the facility. Moving the data to another room, such as his office, would have exposed it to greater risk. Illogical, if Crowninshield wanted to impress Sela with the reliability and security of his firm, so as to attract repeat business.”
“Wait a minute,” said Olly. “Lieutenant, you’ve got the substitute rod, right?”
Tendi glanced up at the ventilation duct. “Sure, right here.”
“Hold it out for a minute.”
Tendi frowned, not sure what Olly was thinking, but she was ready to try anything at this point. She opened the sealed pocket in her harness and removed the substitute data rod, holding it out to the side where Olly could see it.
Olly reached a hand out, fingers spread, and seemed to close her eyes. Then she was motionless for what felt like an eternity. Tendi was about to say something when she noticed a faint tingle caressing the skin of her face, and scented just a trace of ozone in the air.
Electric field, she thought, fascinated despite herself. Olly’s getting fine control over her electrokinesis.
“If I’m interpreting this right,” Olly said at last, “there are several data rods in there besides the one you’re holding.”
“Are any of them . . . I don’t know, by themselves?”
Olly opened her eyes, still holding her hand out in an unusual position, as if she was mapping what she sensed against what she could see. “Yeah, I see what you’re getting at. There’s a small set of them to your left and a little in front of you.”
Tendi glanced that way, found a hand-sized case on a shelf that seemed about the right size and shape to contain a handful of smaller data rods. “Okay. What else?”
“Another set behind you.” Olly hesitated. “I think there’s one to your right and a little below you, but I can’t be sure.”
Tendi spun slowly on her tether, scanning the shelves. She saw another small case, cylindrical and about the length of her hand, with a digital lock.
Exactly the right size to hold another data rod like this one, and nothing else.
She made a decision and stopped her rotation where she could just about reach the case. “Lower me about ten centimeters,” she called, and got to work.
Bov bim Glent decided to argue rather than apologize, of course, but now Crowninshield’s urbane patience was showing signs of wear. He snapped his fingers, and one of his assistants produced a padd. He didn’t make any effort to conceal the padd’s face, so Mariner could see the images he called up: a replay of the disputed hand.
Okay, she told T’Lyn, I think I’ll be able to keep Crowninshield here for about five more minutes. Pass the word to Tendi.
A flicker of acknowledgement came back across their link.
Crowninshield watched the replay in silence, at one point pausing it, then allowing it to resume. Once the replay was over, he gave Bov bim Glent a significant look, and used the padd to call up some documents Mariner couldn’t read. At last he turned the padd off and handed it back to his assistant, turning to the Tellarite.
“Mr. bim Glent, I see no evidence Ms. Webb is playing improperly. You, on the other hand, appear to have a history of becoming disputatious when playing poker at establishments such as mine. You are no longer welcome at the Crowninshield. Please leave the casino.”
“This is discrimination!” shouted the Tellarite. “Human gambling establishments are often prejudiced against Tellarite guests, it is well known.”
“You are welcome to bring the matter up, sir, before a Freecloud arbitrator.” Crowninshield’s face was implacable, and a tiny gesture with one finger brought his assistants up to stand at the Tellarite’s shoulders. “For now, please leave so my other guests may return to their game.”
Finally, bim Glent perceived the better part of valor. He rose from the table, still muttering and grumbling, but he allowed himself to be escorted away from the table and off the casino floor. The scattered applause and cheering that erupted from the audience did nothing to improve his mood.
“Ms. Webb, on behalf of the Crowninshield, please accept my apologies,” said the proprietor, giving Mariner a slight bow. “We shall, of course, take no notice of Mr. bim Glent’s ill-founded allegations. All of the players here, please have a complimentary beverage of your choice, and enjoy the rest of your game.”
Mariner gave him a thousand-watt Naomi Webb smile, and several of the other players murmured thanks as Crowninshield turned and walked away. Mariner watched him as he rejoined Sela and the other Romulans, and began to lead them across the casino floor toward his office.
The dealer was explaining what would be done with the Tellarite’s last remaining chips, but Mariner tuned him out. She knew what the rule was already.
Stalling is over, she told T’Lyn. Crowninshield is on his way.
The xenobiologist sitting at Mariner’s right, who hadn’t quite given up on flirting with her, leaned close. “Nicely played,” he murmured. “Getting that Tellarite to have himself kicked out of the game.”
She gave him a cocked eyebrow that would have been worthy of T’Lyn. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”
“Uh-huh.” He smiled at her, an expression less provocative and more respectful than before. “I’ll be watching you very carefully for the rest of the afternoon.”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” she said.
Tendi had expected it to take about sixty seconds to crack the lock on her target case. Three minutes later, she was still working, and starting to worry about the sweat forming on her forehead.
“Crowninshield is moving again,” said Rutherford. “Mariner’s run out of options to stall him.”
Shit, this isn’t going to work, I’m going to fail because of a stupid little crypto lock, I’ll never be able to show my face at home again . . .
She stopped. Closed her eyes for a moment. Took a deep breath.
Okay. Don’t keep trying the thing you know won’t work. What’s going on in there besides the crypto lock?
Then Tendi saw it. The crypto lock was only the first layer of defense. A mechanical lock had to be triggered too. She had the right tool for it. Every Orion pirate did.
She reached for her harness, and at once ran into the problem that she didn’t have enough hands. Fortunately she caught herself in time, before she could fumble either the case or her digital lockpick. She tucked the lockpick into her harness, then reached for the Orion multitool, put that in her teeth, and got the lockpick back out. Triggered the code sequence. Turned her head and bit down hard on the control patch on the multitool.
The case snapped open. Inside was a Cardassian optolythic data rod, the Tal Shiar insignia embossed on its surface.
Move really carefully now. One step at a time, but fast, fast. Lockpick back in pocket. Multitool back on its hook on my harness. Romulan data rod out of its case, tuck it into the pocket that’s ready for it. Get out the substitute rod, turn it just so, push it down into the foam padding in the case.
“God, Tendi, they’re almost here!” hissed Olly from far above.
Tendi closed the case with a satisfying snap, and set it back on its shelf, taking no more than a shaved second to make sure it was in precisely the same position it had been in before. “Pull me up now,” she said, soft but clear.
Olly didn’t hesitate. Suddenly Tendi was rising through the vault, with barely enough time to return to her head-down position before she flew feet-first into the ventilation duct. She reached out and set the vent cover back down, not bothering to replace the screws to hold it in place.
Olly was already backing down the duct, as quickly as possible without making any noise. Tendi followed. She removed the diverter disabling the laser grid over the vent cover, just as she heard the thud-thud-thud of the vault door’s locks beginning to open below them.
Lieutenant Tendi has the target asset, said T’Lyn, in the back of Mariner’s mind. She and Lieutenant Kastanidis are moving to exfiltrate.
Mariner didn’t react. She was busy at the moment doing her impression of a statue carved out of ice. The turn had just been dealt, she had two spades and two more were showing on the table, but the table was also showing two queens and the woman sitting across from her was betting kind of aggressively.
Probability of 36.8% Ms. Andrews has a third queen, said T’Lyn. Probability of 28.5% her other hole card also matches another card on the table, giving her a full house.
Mariner knew Carolyn Andrews was a minor functionary in the Federation government, the Bureau of Interstellar Trade or some such thing. A bureaucrat.
Now, is she the kind who tends to play it safe all the time, or is she the kind who cuts loose when she’s on vacation?
She was certainly fidgeting a lot, at least compared to some of the other players at the table. Fingers tapping, corner of her mouth quirking. If that wasn’t a tell, it would do until a real one came along.
Play-it-safe bureaucrat who’s excited about a solidly strong hand, Mariner decided, and folded. Andrews looked mildly disappointed. She won the hand without having to show her hole cards, pulling in chips worth about half a bar of latinum.
Still, Mariner’s pile remained the biggest at the table. She was tempted to relax and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Maybe even stay at the table long enough to try and win the whole pot. Of course, as soon as she thought that, she did her best to quash the temptation and turn her vigilance up a notch again.
Murphy’s Law is still in effect, girl. Pay attention.
Tendi and Olly were the first to realize something had gone very wrong. They were in their utility closet, the ventilation duct closed and secured behind them, changing back into their casino uniforms, when . . .
“All Crowninshield employees,” came a calm masculine voice over loudspeakers, “this facility is now on a Category Two security lockdown. All employees are to report to their mustering stations.”
Olly glanced upward. “Uh-oh. What does that mean?”
“It means somebody got suspicious,” said Tendi grimly. “Sela may have figured out the data rod was substituted for a fake, although I can't tell how she might have done it. Crowninshield probably doesn’t know when it happened, but he’s not going to take any chances. They’re going to search everyone in the secure section before they let any of us leave, and it’s not going to be a cursory examination.”
“Great,” said Olly, her eyes going wide with dread. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to let the others know, and get started on one of the contingency plans.” Tendi frowned. “I hope Crowninshield doesn’t realize Mariner’s cat was part of our scheme, or they’re going to be gunning for her out on the casino floor.”
Notes:
A bit of vocabulary: *krught breeba*, Tellarite for "cursed bully," literally "one who tries to win arguments by force rather than by reason." In Tellarite, a mild obscenity.
Chapter Text
Stardate 60406.1
Freecloud
Sitting at their workstations in Naomi Webb’s suite at the Stardust City Grand, the control team knew within seconds that something had gone wrong.
“Tendi reports the casino just went on security lockdown,” said Rutherford, his voice tense.
T’Lyn considered the news, even while she passed it along to Mariner through their telepathic link and received a quick non-verbal response. “They have not been apprehended?”
“Not yet. Sounds like Crowninshield is just being suspicious.”
“So what tipped him off?” Seven demanded. “We checked the substitute data rod. There should not have been any sign it was a fake until Sela presented it in person at the Bank of Freecloud.”
“No idea,” said Rutherford. He opened a channel to the Pegasus. “Brad, what’s your status?”
“Pre-flight’s already done. Ready to go on a moment’s notice,” said Boimler.
“I don’t suppose you can beam Tendi and Olly out of there?”
“No can do. Already checked. Crowninshield has transport inhibitors going.”
T’Lyn caught a stray thought, and firmly suppressed her emotional response. “Mariner has ordered Plan Delta.”
“On my way,” said Seven, all the tension in her body suddenly transformed into decisive action. She rose and was out of the suite in moments.
“Hoo boy,” said Rutherford, and began to tap furiously at his terminal.
Still in the middle of a hand, Mariner found herself with a decision to make.
If they figure out my cat was part of the plan, they’ll be coming out after me any moment now. On the other hand, if I drop everything and flee the table, that will make them suspicious if they weren’t already.
On the third hand, on the clock we’re about due for a break. Nobody would be surprised if Naomi Webb needed to visit the little girls’ room after what she’s been drinking.
T’Lyn was distracted, so for the moment Mariner was playing with nothing but her own brain to call on. Her hole cards were junk, but it was junk that already matched two cards on the table, so she had two pair. She might draw to complete a full house on the turn or the river, but that wasn’t a safe bet . . . and the Andorian across the table was betting aggressively.
She folded, and sat back to sip her current cocktail and glance around the casino floor, looking for signs of trouble.
Quiet so far, she thought. Come on, Rutherford, pull the switch!
“Okay,” said Tendi, “we’re going dark.”
She removed her comms device and the rest of her gear, stowing it in a duffel bag. She was left with a frilly and rather skimpy cocktail-waitress uniform, which made her look non-threatening and didn’t offer much room to hide anything. She thanked the Goddess for the time she had put in, practicing how to walk in high heels.
Olly had never removed her technician’s uniform. Her comms device went in the duffel bag too, although she retained a toolkit as part of her cover identity, and some of their more innocuous gear went in there. So did the data rod, in a hidden compartment that was shielded against . . . some scans.
“You know the plan?” Tendi asked, concealing the duffel bag behind a wall panel.
Olly nodded, looking mildly terrified but determined.
They left their utility closet, glanced both ways, and set out to their right. Olly walked a half-dozen paces ahead, as if they weren’t together and just happened to be moving in the same direction.
They turned a corner . . . and Olly came face to face with two security guards, one male, one female, both alert and with phasers drawn. She pulled up short.
“Where’s your mustering station?” the woman demanded, not quite pointing her weapon.
“Uh, I’m not sure,” said Olly, while Tendi came up behind. “This is the first security drill we’ve had since I was hired.”
“Right. Let’s see your ID.”
Olly produced her key card and handed it to the woman, who applied a hand scanner. “Well, you’re heading in the right direction . . .”
Then the second alarm went off, a loud klaxon designed to cut through any noise and burrow into the guts of anyone who heard it.
“What the hell?” wondered the man.
“First a security lockdown, now a fire alarm,” said the woman. “Okay, protocol’s changed. You! Keep going down this hallway, look for signs for the loading docks to the right. Your evacuation station is Loading Dock Three.”
“Loading Dock Three,” said Olly. “Got it.”
Then they turned to Tendi, who was looking as wide-eyed and harmless as she possibly could. “Well, you’re out of place,” said the male guard, putting on what he probably thought of as charm. “Think you can find Loading Dock Three, honey, or do you need me to escort you?”
The woman rolled her eyes.
“No thanks, I’m good!” said Tendi, slipping past them and hurrying after Olly.
“You incredible creep,” muttered the female guard behind her. Tendi smiled to herself.
“All guests of Crowninshield Casinos, may I please have your attention. A fire emergency has been reported in the building. Please proceed in an orderly fashion to the nearest exit.”
Mariner glanced up, as if Naomi Webb had been startled out of her concentration on the game.
Thank you, Rutherford.
“Please leave all cards and chips on the table,” the dealer was saying. “If the emergency is resolved quickly, we will resume play as soon as possible.”
With a show of reluctance, Mariner picked up her clutch and got up from the table. “What about my Paws?” she asked.
The dealer frowned, confused. “Miss?”
“My Tarkassian cat. He’s chilling out in the vault. Will he be okay?”
He nodded reassuringly. “Ms. Webb, if your cat is in the secure vault, he’s likely to be safer than anyone else in the casino in case of a fire. In any case, assuming this is not a major emergency, we’ll be able to resume shortly and he will be returned to you when you’re finished playing.”
Mariner pretended to hesitate, but then she nodded and turned away. Moving deliberately, she infiltrated the herd of people making their way toward the front doors.
Loading Dock Three was a madhouse. The streets of Stardust City were visible only a few meters away, a temptation to anyone who was eager to escape. A crowd of casino employees had already gathered, all pushing to get out of the building, while a handful of security guards tried to keep everyone in. At least long enough to scan everyone thoroughly before they were allowed out, one at a time.
Most of the employees were not happy about this. They outnumbered the guards, and were milling around angrily. The guards were looking very apprehensive, ready to draw their weapons at any moment.
“Uh-oh,” murmured Olly, her hand clenching around the handle of her toolkit. “They’re making everyone leave their belongings behind for a close search. We won’t be able to get the asset out.”
“Let’s get a little closer to the exits,” said Tendi. “We need to give the others time to execute Plan Delta.”
They moved forward, trying to look as if they wanted out too but were reluctant to get into the worst of the gathering mob.
Just in time. They had barely started to put a few casino employees between themselves and the entrance of the loading dock when William Crowninshield arrived. Sela and three other Romulans were with him, all disguised in Vulcan formal wear. The newcomers looked around, evaluating the situation. Then Crowninshield shouted for the attention of his employees, ordering them to move aside, and he and the Romulans began to make their way toward the guards’ position.
Sela passed within three meters of Tendi, giving not even a glance to the apparent cocktail waitress who was watching her so intently. Tendi’s palms itched with the urge to attack, but she restrained herself.
“Boimler to Rutherford.”
“Go ahead, Brad,” said Rutherford, as he shoved the last of his gear into a duffel bag.
“Things are getting hot. Ready to beam out?”
Rutherford glanced at T’Lyn, who nodded. She had less gear to secure anyway. “Go ahead.”
The transporter beam reached out, dissolving Naomi Webb’s hotel suite, then rebuilding the flight deck of the Pegasus around them.
Pegasus was, to all appearances, a civilian Kaplan 17 speed freighter, its primary flight deck stretching almost the whole eighty-plus-meter length of the ship. The transporter stage was at the rear, the cockpit at the front, with plenty of room for cargo in between. When T’Lyn and Rutherford arrived, Boimler was visible in the pilot’s chair, focusing hard on the holographic controls around him.
“Mariner is ready for beam-out as well,” T’Lyn called forward.
“Can you take that?” asked Boimler, already busy with the flight controls. “I need to get us in the air.”
T’Lyn nodded, turning to the transporter console.
“How can you pick out Mariner?” Rutherford wondered. “She couldn’t take her combadge or any other tech into the casino.”
“She is wearing a jeweled pin, a gift I presented her after our marriage,” said T’Lyn. “It incorporates a small amount of vokaya, a mineral native to Vulcan which emits a harmless but distinctive form of radiation. I can use that to locate her.”
Rutherford’s eyebrows rose. “You gave your wife a tracking device as a wedding present?”
“It was her idea,” said T’Lyn, as her left hand swept downward across the controls.
Mariner shimmered into existence on the transporter stage, still looking more like Naomi Webb than a Starfleet officer. She grinned when she saw T’Lyn, then her eyes flicked around the flight deck, counting. “All right! Four down, three to go. Heard anything from Tendi’s team, or from Seven?”
“Not yet,” said Boimler, as Pegasus climbed into Freecloud’s sky.
The first phaser bolt tore in from outside the loading dock. It passed over the shoulder of one of Crowninshield’s security guards, close enough for them to feel the heat of the discharge, and slammed into the floor less than half a meter from Sela’s feet.
It was like tapping a beaker full of supersaturated solution, and watching crystals appear as if by magic. The crowd of restive casino employees became a mob, fleeing in all directions to get away from the weapons fire. There was a great deal of screaming.
Also as if by magic, Sela and her three aides all produced weapons of their own. Romulan disruptors, in their case. Standing in their midst, Crowninshield was suddenly looking very unsure of his allegiances.
Tendi took her cue from the sudden screaming. She shouted, “Temuihvu!” at the top of her lungs.
In time for the second phaser bolt to come in on the same insane trajectory and strike a Romulan’s center of mass, knocking him off his feet.
Sela and her two remaining aides immediately dove for cover and began to return fire. Aiming at the casino security.
“Time to go!” Tendi said, taking Olly by the hand and pulling her along, following an eddy in the fleeing crowd.
Behind them, Sela drew a conclusion natural for anyone raised in Romulan culture. Before she saw to anything else, she decided her first order of business was to deal with Crowninshield.
The last thing he saw was the muzzle of Sela’s disruptor at point-blank range.
“Pegasus, you are deviating from flight plan,” came a tense male voice over comms.
“Freecloud Control, we are dealing with a personnel emergency,” said Boimler, while Mariner slid into the copilot’s seat beside him. “Request you clear airspace along a heading of two-eight-zero from my current position.”
“Negative, Pegasus, you will return to your flight plan now or be fired upon.”
Boimler gave Mariner a tight grin. “Better buckle in, this is going to get bumpy.”
At the end of a flat sprint, Tendi and Olly reached concealment across the street from the Crowninshield loading docks. They took cover behind an ornamental screen on the edge of an aircar landing ground, not far from a small utility shack. Behind them, the street was full of Crowninshield employees, fleeing from the sudden firefight in their midst.
Tendi peeked around the edge of the screen, trying to see if anyone was pursuing them in particular. She saw Sela and her aides emerge from the loading dock, two of them still shaking off phaser stun, helped along by their comrades. The Romulans looked around for a helpless moment, then Sela snapped an order and they took up a ready stance. Green light shimmered around them, and they were gone.
Olly set her toolkit down, leaning against the screen and staring at Tendi. Between gasping breaths, she asked, “What was that you shouted, back there?”
“Temuihvu,” said Tendi. “It means betrayal in Romulan.”
“Oh,” said Olly. “Oh. Right after the Romulans got shot at, I get it. But who was doing the shooting?”
“That would be me,” said Seven of Nine, as she leaped down from the roof of the utility shack. She had a phaser rifle slung over her left shoulder.
“That was really nice shooting,” said Tendi. “I could barely tell it wasn’t Crowninshield’s people doing it, and I knew to watch for it.”
Seven tapped her ocular implant. “This damn thing is occasionally good for something.”
“Pegasus to away team,” came Boimler’s voice over Seven’s combadge. “I sure hope you’re ready to beam out of there.”
“Ready to beam out now,” said Seven. Then she took off her combadge, and tossed it to Olly. “Catch!”
Olly caught the combadge by reflex, and her eyes went wide. “Wait . . .”
The transporter beam from Pegasus caught her and Tendi, and whisked them away.
Mariner was busy angling the shields, keeping Freecloud planetary defense from knocking them entirely out of the sky. She still had a moment to spare to appreciate Boimler’s piloting. Pegasus was dodging from side to side, rolling around its long axis to present a new shield facing every moment, and still managing to climb hard for deep space.
Damn. That is some fancy flying. He’s been busy in the holodeck training simulations.
“Seven is still back there!” gasped Olly, lurching forward to lean heavily on the back of the command chair.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Mariner, not looking away from her controls.
“No, you don’t understand. My toolkit is back there too. We lost the asset!”
“Well, we’re not going back for it,” said Mariner. “Find a seat and buckle in, now.”
“Come on, Olly,” said Tendi, putting a hand on the taller woman’s arm.
Pegasus lurched hard, as a Freecloud torpedo exploded a few kilometers to starboard.
“Ship decloaking!” said T’Lyn from her station. Not shouting, but sounding as if she wanted to.
Sure enough, space seemed to writhe and shimmer in front of them, just at the top of Freecloud’s atmosphere. Livid green light appeared, wrapped around a ship that was quite a bit larger than Pegasus.
Romulan warbird, thought Mariner. But not a D’Deridex-class ship, thank the Prophets.
“Charge ‘em,” she snapped.
Boimler gave a tense nod, gritting his teeth, and his fingers danced across the holographic controls.
Pegasus leaped forward, looking for an instant as if it wanted to take out the warbird’s command module. The warbird made a snap turn to port, diving to get out of the way of the insane human, and Pegasus passed above. The two ships might have avoided a collision by as much as ten whole meters.
“And . . . warp now,” said Boimler, and the engines pulsed. Freecloud vanished in the forward viewports, replaced by the weird light-streaks of warp travel.
Stardate 60425.6
Starbase 234
“I have only one question for you, Lieutenant,” said Rear Admiral Ichiro Koyamatsu.
He was a burly male human, of only moderate height, with a round face, narrow eyes, and a thin white mustache. He was currently wearing a very steely expression, the kind some of his ancestors might have directed at their foes from under the brim of a kabuto helmet.
Mariner stood at attention, ramrod straight, and focused her gaze on the wall just behind and above the admiral’s face. “Yes, sir?”
“You are absolutely certain that Sela will never be able to recover the money from that Freecloud bank account?”
Mariner smiled, but only internally. Canny old bastard, she thought. He knows what I did, and he knows I know he knows. He’s very carefully not asking the question for which he would have to take action on a truthful answer.
“Absolutely certain, Admiral. Sela got the data rod with the fake certificate on it. It’s worthless. The real certificate is not recoverable.”
“All right.” Koyamatsu stared at Mariner for a few more moments, then visibly gave up the attempt to intimidate her. “That was a sloppy job, Lieutenant . . . but with Sela on the scene at just the wrong moment, I doubt anyone else could have done better. Pass along my compliments to your team, and let them know there’s going to be a commendation for them. In the redacted part of their personnel jackets, unfortunately, but it should still carry some weight.”
“Thank you, sir.” Mariner hesitated. “Sir, about the seventh member of my team . . .”
Koyamatsu relaxed in his chair. “I know you were hoping for some clemency for Ms. Hansen.”
“For Seven of Nine,” said Mariner, as sharply as she thought she could to a flag officer. “Sir.”
“Yes. Quite.” Koyamatsu shook his head. “Believe it or not, Lieutenant, I’m in your camp on this one. I had a long talk with Admiral Janeway while you were on Freecloud. I concur: the way Seven has been treated, by the Federation and by Starfleet, is a serious legal and moral error. Unfortunately, at the moment that makes a grand total of two of us at the Admiralty level. You have my word of honor that I will continue to work with Kathryn, to see if we can get some doors reopened for Seven. It may take some time.”
“Do you suppose Admiral Picard would be willing to help?” Mariner frowned. “I know, he was only Borg for a few days, and Seven spent most of her life assimilated . . .”
“It’s not a contest, Mariner. If it was, Jean-Luc would have a lot more red in his ledger just for Wolf 359.”
Mariner shuddered a little, suppressing her own memories of that Borg incursion.
“As it is, that’s not a bad idea,” said Koyamatsu. “He has a lot of pull at the moment, given his position at the head of what’s becoming Starfleet’s primary mission. He’s just the person to be able to advocate to Starfleet for another ex-Borg. I’ll drop him a line and see if he would be willing to put a little of that weight to good use on Seven’s behalf.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“At ease, Lieutenant.” Koyamatsu smiled. “I understand the wedding went well. How is married life suiting you?”
Mariner relaxed, resisting the temptation to find a place to sit down. A lieutenant did not make herself at home in a rear admiral’s office, even when at ease and making small talk. “It’s been great, sir. You’ve read my psych profile, you have to know that kind of commitment was . . . scary, for a long time. I’m glad I worked my way past that particular brick wall. T’Lyn is worth it.”
“Good. Starfleet marriages don’t always work out, but once in a while we see one that turns into a superb partnership. Rather like your parents, in fact.”
Mariner chuckled. “Well. I may be a lot like my mom in some ways, but T’Lyn is nothing like my father. We seem to be making it work anyway.”
“I’m glad. You’re a fine officer, Mariner, your service record notwithstanding. I’m going to keep an eye on you. If you don’t mind ending up in the Starfleet Intelligence hopper once in a while, that is.”
Mariner spread her hands. “To be honest, sir, it’s not my favorite part of the job . . . but it is part of the job.”
“So it is.”
Stardate 60426.9
Interstellar Space
Mariner reported aboard the Cerritos before the ship departed for its next assignment. She handed off a sheaf of reports to Captain Ransom, spent the day settling back into her regular duties, had a louder-than-usual celebration with the rest of her friends in the bar, and finally retired with T’Lyn to their shared quarters for the night.
Of course, she had a few final pieces of business to take care of before she could spend some quality time with her wife. So T’Lyn sat at her desk, reviewing reports from the Sciences department, while Mariner placed a subspace call.
This one didn’t need quite as many layers of encryption. It still took a while to go through. The destination was close to fifty parsecs away, after all, and outside Federation space at that. Still, comm links between the Federation and the Ferengi Alliance were quite a bit easier to put through than they had once been.
Finally the screen cleared, and a male Ferengi appeared: prominent ears, pug nose, sharp teeth bared in a grin. He wore a rather natty business suit, and a monocle rested in his right eye. “Mariner! I was wondering when I might hear from you.”
“Hello, Quimp,” said Mariner, smiling back. “Long time no see.”
“I got some very interesting news from my people over on the far side of Federation space,” said Quimp. “Sounds as if my old competitor Crowninshield came to a bad end.”
“Really?” Mariner allowed her voice to take on an arch tone. “You don’t say?”
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“I had nothing to do with it,” she assured him. “I wasn’t even on Freecloud at the time, and that’s a matter of public record.”
“Uh-huh. I didn’t say he was on Freecloud. Or when it happened.”
“So you didn’t.” Mariner smiled at him. “Seriously, Quimp, I can’t take responsibility for that one. If you were to ask Freecloud Security about it, they would tell you a Romulan pulled the trigger, and give you a theory that some kind of shady deal went bad.”
“Of course, since you weren’t anywhere near Freecloud at the time, you couldn’t say what the deal was, or why it went bad.”
“Nope,” said Mariner, drawing out the word.
“Well. That Romulan certainly did me a favor. It’s put me in a generous mood. I seem to recall a certain Starfleet officer who took out a loan of ten bars of latinum from me a while back. Which, with thirty percent interest compounded annually, comes to . . .”
“Fourteen bars, eighteen strips, forty-two slips.”
“Forty-two-point-eight slips, actually, as of this evening. Kind of tough, given that Starfleet doesn’t actually pay you poor rubes, so it’s hard to accumulate any real money. I trust she’s learned her lesson?”
Mariner smiled. “Yeah, she’s got her head on a lot straighter these days.”
“Good. Then I think I’ll just drop this matter into operating expenses and call it a goodwill investment.”
“Is that what you guys are calling bribes these days?”
“It is when we’re dealing with you hew-mons,” said Quimp, rolling his eyes. “Part of Grand Nagus Rom’s grand diplomatic initiative.”
“Oh, hey, speaking of me getting my head on straight, there’s someone you really have to meet.”
Mariner sent a quick thought across the link. T’Lyn rose at once from her desk and came across to stand next to her.
“T’Lyn, this is Quimp, one of my best friends from Deep Space Nine days.” Mariner turned back to the monitor, not wanting to miss her friend’s reaction. “Quimp, this is T’Lyn. My wife.”
The Ferengi didn’t disappoint. The monocle fell out of his eye, and he sat in gape-mouthed surprise for a long moment. “Well. That’s certainly new.”
“Didn’t think I had it in me, did you?”
T’Lyn cleared her throat. “It is satisfactory to meet you, Mr. Quimp. Beckett has spoken of you often.”
Quimp recovered, putting his monocle back in place and giving T’Lyn a sunny smile. “I can see we have some catching up to do. Let me know when you two have some leave time coming up. Tarilka and I would be pleased to show you a good time on Ferenginar.”
“Will do,” said Mariner. “It might be a while. We’re stuck on this side of the Federation for the foreseeable future.”
“I can imagine. Lot of work to be done, helping all those Romulans migrate.” Quimp nodded. “Well, take care of yourself, Mariner. T’Lyn, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Anyone who could nail a force of nature like Mariner down is definitely worth knowing.”
After Quimp had signed off, T’Lyn turned to Mariner with a raised eyebrow. “A surprisingly personable Ferengi. If I were human, I might even call him charming.”
Mariner nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah, Quimp is great. I met him before Zek’s big wave of reforms, back when Ferengi women were still forced to run around naked all the time. Me being a woman never bothered him, he got along fine with all kinds of non-Ferengi. Man, we used to get into so much trouble together. He and I have had each other’s backs ever since. You’ll like him.”
“No doubt.” T’Lyn cocked her head. “Now I sense you have one more call to make, for which it would be best if I were not in the room. I will go shower and prepare for bed.”
Mariner nodded. “Go ahead, babe. I don’t think this will take long, so I may even join you.”
The second call took a while to go through as well, although in this case the extra layers of security were to blame. Mariner didn’t think Admiral Koyamatsu would give her grief over how the mission had turned out, but better not to leave any evidence where he would be forced to take notice of it.
This time, when Seven appeared on the screen, she seemed much more approachable. She was wearing a casual and stylish blouse, and her lips turned up in a small but genuine smile when she saw who had contacted her. “Mariner,” she said. “Did everything go well with the admiral?”
“I think he figured out we pulled a fast one, but he didn’t make an issue of it,” said Mariner. “The bank give you any trouble?”
“None. I did not take the certificate in myself, of course. I had Bjayzl do it, with two other Rangers as escort. There were no issues. The Fenris Rangers are now in possession of the Tal Shiar funds.”
“Good. I hope you guys are able to do some good with it. Starfleet Intelligence would just spend it on some admiral’s pet black-budget projects.”
“Yes.” Seven’s face took on a little color, a sign of enthusiasm. “For the first time, the Rangers will not be forced to subsist on what little the Fenris colonial government can spare. We will be able to hire and train more agents, expand our patrol task force, perhaps help a few colony worlds along the border to implement planetary defense. Vashti has already made such a request. You have my thanks.”
“Any time.” Mariner hesitated, then decided to forge ahead. “Admiral Koyamatsu told me he’s going to work with Admiral Janeway, see if they can get some decisions reversed for you.”
Seven’s smile vanished, like dew under a hot sun. “That will not be necessary.”
Mariner nodded. “Maybe not. That’s up to you. Believe me, I get it. If you’ve found a home outside Starfleet, if you’re happier where you are, more power to you. But the assholes shouldn’t be allowed to get away with breaking the rules to slam the door in your face. Better to have the option, if you ever change your mind.”
Seven was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Thank you. I see Kathryn was not wrong about you.”
Mariner blinked, not sure what she had just heard. “What, you mean Admiral Janeway has been talking to you about me?”
“Affirmative.”
“Whoa. That’s weird. I’ve never been under her command, never even met her. Closest I ever came was being part of the crew that brought Voyager home to Earth for the Fleet Museum.”
“I know.” The subtle smile came back. “I believe the log reports from that mission were what brought you to her attention. Kathryn . . . has an affinity for misfits and unconventional officers. I doubt we would have made it home to the Alpha Quadrant otherwise.”
“Huh. Well, I’ll do my best not to remember that I’ve got an admiral watching me. Another admiral watching me.” Mariner shook her head, then gave Seven a smile of her own. “Anyway, you ever need anything, give me a call. This channel’s always open if you need it to be under the table.”
“I will remember. Thank you again, Mariner.”
Notes:
This chapter came out kind of long, and I thought about breaking it into two pieces, but the second half of it went so smoothly I was finished by the time I noticed how long it was getting. So here it is.
This concludes the eighth story in the series. In some ways, this one was harder than usual to write. I'm usually a "pantser" when it comes to writing serialized fiction, but you just can't write a heist story by the seat of your pants. Besides, I've got a stack of other creative projects under way, some of them with deadlines, so I've been a bit distracted. Still, I'm not unhappy with how this one came out in the end.
More to come, of course - I already know what the next story is going be about, it's just a matter of starting to get it out of the back of my brain and onto the page.
Setsutora1560 on Chapter 1 Thu 17 Jul 2025 02:54AM UTC
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gphoenix51 on Chapter 1 Thu 17 Jul 2025 11:06AM UTC
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Sharrukin on Chapter 1 Sat 19 Jul 2025 06:17PM UTC
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SecretAgentMan on Chapter 1 Fri 18 Jul 2025 09:38AM UTC
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Ri2 on Chapter 2 Sun 20 Jul 2025 02:29PM UTC
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Sharrukin on Chapter 2 Mon 28 Jul 2025 06:14PM UTC
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Ri2 on Chapter 2 Mon 28 Jul 2025 06:30PM UTC
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Sharrukin on Chapter 2 Mon 28 Jul 2025 06:13PM UTC
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Ri2 on Chapter 3 Wed 30 Jul 2025 02:59AM UTC
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Sharrukin on Chapter 3 Thu 31 Jul 2025 12:44AM UTC
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Ri2 on Chapter 4 Wed 06 Aug 2025 06:12PM UTC
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gphoenix51 on Chapter 5 Sun 17 Aug 2025 10:33AM UTC
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Ri2 on Chapter 5 Sun 17 Aug 2025 09:32PM UTC
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