Surefoot 57: Cloak and Dagger

Trenagen nodded. 'Trying circumstances'... It had been a long month there, with Léon posing as a communications engineer providing upgrades to the outpost, and Ian as his partner, getting to know the families and colleagues on that little world, while they waited for a double agent to deliver them the latest decrypter from the Cardassian Central Command. Ian had grown bored with the assignment, maintaining a banal domestic facade, becoming familiar with the other occupants of the outpost, waiting for the damned double agent to finally arrive and show himself.

Well, the agent came... quickly followed by a Cardassian militia, ruthlessly seeking to retrieve the decrypter. It had been a brutal, intense firefight, lasting days, and towards the end, Ian half-feared that they wouldn't make it. Fortunately, the Rutledge had already been on its way, the Captain's family being stationed there. Starfleet managed to drive the Cardassians back, though over a hundred innocent lives were lost... including the Captain's family.

But Trenagen considered that a small price to pay. "Thank you, Sir. I assume the decrypter has remained classified?"

M nodded. "The official story is that the Cardassians mistakenly believed that we were going to launch an assault into their space from Setlik III; certainly the Cardassians aren't going to publicly mention the decrypter." He gauged the Captain's expression, before nodding to a more remote area of the grounds. As they strolled together, he continued, "So, what has prompted my best operative to request a meeting outside of official channels?"

Trenagen paused, as much to channel his own courage as to feign care about ensuring discretion. He had been planing this for some months now, was almost completely certain that he was taking the right action. But it didn't lessen his apprehension at how M would react. Rein it in, show nothing, nothing... "Sir, of late I have been conducting my own investigation into certain actions that have occurred within Federation space. Certain suspicious actions."

M nodded as they moved along towards an older clump of trees that would be ideal for offering shade on hot afternoons, but which now only provided chills. "Indeed? And what specific sort of 'actions' are you referring to, Captain?"

Trenagen breathed in. In for a penny... "On Stardate 24566.82, a set of four decommissioned Soyuz-class border ships -- the Kalispell, the Billings, the Havre and the Missoula -- were being delivered to the Qualor II Surplus Depot for disposition. They disappeared at Ivor Prime near the Typhon Expanse. Six weeks later, the Depot reported the ships had been there all along. The skelton crews assigned to ferry them later appeared on the crew manifest for the USS Nenavis."

"A minor administrative oversight," M countered mildly. "You could always contact the personnel on the Nenavis to fill in the details."

"I would -- if the Nenavis existed as anything but data in the Starfleet Starship Registry. It's listed as patrolling the area bordering the Typhon Expanse, but tertiary searches I have made of maintenance schedules, retrofit schedules, patrol recordings and personnel updates of the Nenavis are contradictory in many places."

M stared ahead, asking, "Well, I will certainly run an investigation into this phantom starship of yours, Captain-"

"Forgive me, Sir, but I have much more to say. I found other names on the Nenavis crew manifest, including scientists whose identities I recognise from a prior assignment you gave me, involving Klingon research into temporal weapons research."

"A coincidence, perhaps?" M offered.

"Then there's the Weapons Decommission Facility on Barisa Prime. On Stardate 25101.44, it was evacuated for five days following unusually strong solar storms, storms not predicted by the local solar probes. There were also eyewitness accounts of four unidentified Miranda-class starships involved in the evacuation, without actually taking any Facility staff onboard.

On the return of the evacuees, the Facility Director reported 350 isotons of subspace isolytic warheads destined for dismantling were missing; subspace isolytic elements were also noted as employed in the Klingon temporal weapons research. The report was later redacted as an administrative error on the Facility's part. Then there was the unexplained failure of subspace security stations between Barisa Prime and the Expanse at the same time as the alleged solar storms."

"Such things happen, Captain," M replied neutrally.

"And finally, there were alerts sent by the colony on Archer IV, again near the Expanse, on Stardate 25684.12, about an alleged fleet of Romulan warships deep in the Expanse heading towards Federation space. Those reports, like the reports of the warhead theft and the missing Miranda-class starships, were later redacted as false images caused by outpost sensor malfunction."

M stopped in his tracks, facing Trenagen, his hands behind him. "And what do all of these random minor mistakes and mysteries indicate to you, Captain?"

"That the Romulan invasion had been real, but that the threat had been neutralised utilising an unofficial small fleet of vessels employing temporal weapons banned by the Third Khitomer Accords. Exploration of the Typhon Expanse was scheduled next month by the USS Aries, but this has been changed at the last minute, and put on hold for the foreseeable future, for reasons unknown.

In fact, the reasons were to prevent an official discovery of the battle before efforts could be made to either clear away the evidence, or allow natural forces to remove it."

M regarded him for a moment, before asking, "Are you suggesting Starfleet conducted an illegal operation to defend the Federation?"

"No, Sir. I'm saying an unofficial agency did so. An internal security framework that is not officially recognised, and which employs... extralegal methods to achieve its ends. This hypothetical organisation -- let's call it, say, Section 31 -- became aware of the invasion beforehand and took action."

M raised his chin, smiling. "I'm rather surprised at you, Captain. Section 31 is a myth going back to before the birth of the Federation, the name supposedly based on the original Starfleet Charter, Article 14, Section 31, which allowed for extraordinary measures to be taken in times of extreme threat.

A branch of Starfleet Intelligence did adopt the name for a short time during the First Federation-Klingon War almost a hundred years ago, to capitalise on the mystique that had built up over the idea of Section 31 in the previous century. They even designed an insignia for it, a solid black version of the Starfleet arrowhead. But that ended quickly, due to public dissatisfaction."

Trenagen smiled back. "This is of course only a theory, Sir. And admittedly not a perfect one, as two questions remain: why wasn't Starfleet made aware of the threat and allowed to take open action, and where did the original intelligence about the invasion came from, with the Romulans having closed their borders to the rest of the Galaxy for the last 36 years."

M continue to stare, glancing around here and there before finally conjecturing, "Perhaps... an official acknowledgement of the threat could have led to a public demand for a military response, possibly even a new War, one we are not prepared to fight, now that we are currently engaged with hostilities from the Cardassians and the Tholians."

He glanced up at some birds that had chosen to land on a nearby tree branch and declare their presence to the world. "As for the source of the intelligence... I would conjecture that, though there are no official lines of communication open between the Federation and the Romulans, there are still lines between their respective intelligence agencies. Perhaps the Tal'Shiar provided that intelligence to this hypothetical Section 31 of yours?"

Trenagen's forehead furrowed. "Why would the intelligence agencies of opposing powers collaborate in such a fashion?"

M smiled. "Historically, such agencies can possess an agenda greater than blindly following whatever regime is in place. Perhaps the Tal'Shiar believed such a War now would be the ultimate undoing of their Empire? Or perhaps they wanted the invasion to be defeated, and the Praetor who initiated the invasion would be removed from power, and replaced by one more amenable to the Tal'Shiar's interests?"

Trenagen stepped back. In his research on Section 31, he had expected to find an organisation that was willing to take extraordinary measures to protect the Federation from its enemies... not that they were also cooperating with their opposite numbers among the enemies.

And M seemed to read his mind. "The Shadow Agencies may have more in common with each other than they do with their mercurial governments. In fact, they may even meet remotely in neutral cybernetic territory over secure communication lines to discuss matters of mutual interest, along with smaller but long-standing internal intelligence agencies, such as the Vulcan V'Shar, the Tellarite Ghleshlig, the Caitian Mother's Claws, and others. But Section 31 is one of the few that is not officially acknowledged,

If it existed, of course."

Trenagen kept his gaze fixed on his superior. He had already dove head first into the black waters, he may as well keep swimming. "If it existed, it would do better for itself if it was more careful, as demonstrated by my investigative efforts."

M nodded. "Assuming, of course, that measures weren't already in place to detect the curious. That Andorian friend of yours at Memory Alpha you consulted, for instance, may already be a Section 31 agent, intentionally feeding you intelligence to test how much you might uncover."

Trenagen struggled to maintain a controlled expression.... but couldn't keep a stab of apprehension from reaching within him. That he had been as careful as he could be, but they were still onto him from the very start, both impressed and intimidated him. Rein it in, show nothing, nothing...

Fortunately M continued without expecting a reaction from him. "Ian, I have been your commanding officer for over ten years since Admiral Chekov died, and have access to your psychiatric profile; I know you even better than your lover. You brought this to me not to expose a covert organisation... but to join it.

But you need to understand what it really means. Its operatives are burdened by the secrecy that gives it its strength. Few will know what they do, who they are. They get no medals, no recognition, no promotion. They are as much Shadow as their agency.

But they still exist. And they make a difference."

M unhooked the clasp holding the front of his brick-red uniform jacket... revealing a solid black Starfleet arrowhead emblem inside the lining.

Then he hid it again.

Ian stared in disbelief... it was true.

The years he had spent in Starfleet Intelligence, he had bent the rules, even broken them... but still, yearning to do more, to do what he was doing now, but without the burden of official accountability. . . "Yes."

M looked to him. "Yes, what?"

"You have made me an offer... my answer is Yes."

M looked at him. "Before we begin to enlighten you further, we should talk about Captain Landry."

Trenagen brightened. "He'll be more than willing to join as well, Sir, I know it-"

"This profession of ours," M interrupted gently. "Is not merciful to personal relationships. For a profession that cannot even be acknowledged publicly, that cruelty is augmented exponentially. Consider that, Ian."

Trenagen nodded politely. The thought had occurred to him, over the years. What if Léon, or he, were forced into a situation where either were in danger, where the needs of the mission took precedence?

Then he dismissed it. Everything would work out for the best.

*

USS Imperator - Present Day:

Trenagen sat behind his desk, his tea ignored and growing cold, staring at the blank screen, as if half-expecting the problem to solve itself.

His intercom chirped for attention. He breathed in deeply before responding with, "Talk to me."

"Admiral, we've been unable to achieve a trajector lock on Captain Sakuth's transponder. It most likely has been neutralised. Should we continue?"

Trenagen's brow furrowed, and he steepled his fingers. "No. Maintain Red Alert, continue on course."

"Aye, Sir."

His Ready Room was quiet once more, leaving him to his thoughts. Sakuth had been one of his longest-serving, most promising agents: zealous, tenacious, talented, pragmatic. Another few years, and he might have groomed her to take his place leading Section 31.

She was now undoubtedly dead, because of Ma'Sala Shall. He no longer had a contact on the Surefoot, but he was certain that she on her way, in her flagship, prepared to bring about the Day of Reckoning with him, after all these years.

He was not prepared to see that Day too soon.

He turned in his chair, looking up at the main viewscreen. "Computer: Open Secure Channels, Emergency Priority, to the following: Minister Satok, Legate Rajac, Prince Jougguh Sur, and General Korolah."

He waited, mentally gauging his choice of contacts, those most willing to assist him at this time, for various reasons. The rest of the Shadow Council will be less helpful or useful-

"Secure Channels Connected."

Trenagen breathed in again. "Onscreen."

The viewscreen split into four sections, revealing a familiar Vulcan, Klingon, Cardassian and Orion, staring back... and from the expressions on at least some of them, he could see that they already knew the reason for his call. But he also knew he still had to proceed regardless. "Thank you for responding so quickly. I take it you are aware of the threat we now face from our Caitian associate-"

The Orion Jougguh grunted. "What do you mean 'we', White Man? I heard her threaten you."

"She was as brusque as always," the Cardassian Rajac noted. "And as clear in her intent. At least, that's what the severed head of your Vulcan lackey she had in her hands told us."

"She," Trenagen continued, setting aside that revelation. "Her entire race in fact, represents a clear and present internal threat to the Alpha Quadrant-"

"Save your lies for others, Admiral," the Klingon Korolah sneered. "This has never been about any threat. Except to your own personal safety."

"Ma'Sala claimed you broke the Shadow Covenant," the Vulcan Satok informed him. "And attacked her family. Is it true?"

Trenagen looked to Satok, gauging how much of a lie to employ to people he had known and worked with for years. "My operative may have been... overly eager about how far she should have pursued her mission to obtain vital information Fleet Captain Shall has been withholding, for her own selfish reasons-"

"Do not speak to us about selfish reasons," Jougguh declared sharply. "You have made this cat come hunting for you."

"Perhaps," Trenagen conceded. "But the fact remains, her quest for vengeance will upset the balance we have forged here."

"We are not some Brotherhood of Spies, Admiral," Korolah declared with a sneer,"We meet on occasion to discuss matters of mutual interest; the rest of the time, we are lying to, spying on and stealing from each other. As for you, better for you to face death with some shred of honour... or at least, as much honour as an attempted baby killer can scrape together."

Korolah ended his side of the transmission.

Trenagen turned to the others. "If an appeal to your sense of stability is falling on deaf ears, perhaps a more selfish motive might sway you? In return to any assistance you might be able to provide me, I will offer a consignment of transwarp coils my office obtained from an ancient wreckage of a cube-shaped vessel we discovered, as well as other technologies, classified information... I can even arrange for the reassignment of key Federation territories to your governments-"

"Save it," Rajac told him. "The Obsidian Order is struggling to rebuild our infrastructure in the wake of the Dominion takeover; we do not have the resources to assist you, let alone take advantage of whatever you might offer. It was a pleasure to work with you, Admiral."

Rajac ended his side of the transmission.

Jougguh Sur frowned. "I, on the other hand, have the resources to assist you. But I will not."

Trenagen frowned back. "You have allowed yourself to be intimidated by the Caitian female. How disappointing; I expected better of you."

The Orion laughed, "Taunt me like a schoolboy all you like, for all the good it'll do you! I have looked into the eyes of the female after your blood. You could not pay me enough to add myself to her death list." He leaned in closer to the screen. "Also... I never liked you, Ian. You were always a stuck-up, superior arsehole."

Jougguh Sur ended his side of the transmission.

Trenagen was left with Satok, the human's expression softening more as he looked at his last hope. "Minister... Satok... how long have we known each other?"

"27.134 years, Ian."

"Yes. Satok... I admit that I might have miscalculated in my actions towards the Caitian. That my concern for the threat she and her race presents-"

"Ian... let us not waste each other's time. I have known you, and Fleet Captain Shall, both long enough to get the measure of both of you. She is undoubtedly independent and impulsive by nature, like much of her race, and on occasion has taken the initiative... but she and the Caitians have never really been a threat to the Federation.

No, your mutual animosity was driven by emotional factors; neither of you has ever liked the other. And any possibility of rapprochement was destroyed following the tragic incident with Captain Landry."

Trenagen flinched at the sound of the name, and glared back. "You're not going to assist me, are you?"

The Vulcan's expression softened, almost appearing regretful. "Unfortunately, my responsibilities with the V'Shar preclude me from doing so.

Ian, I have always appreciated our collaborative efforts in the defence of the Federation, and you have demonstrated a rational, insightful mind... at least, for the most part. I presume the infrastructure of Section 31 is prepared for what is to come?"

Trenagen reached for his teacup, more for something to do than to sate his thirst. "Yes, everything is in place for my replacement... should it become necessary."

Satok nodded, looking as emotional as any Vulcan could be in the presence of offworlders. "You can only be succeeded, Ian, not replaced. And... perhaps you might prove to be triumphant in your inevitable confrontation?" He held up his ahnd in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Admiral."

The screen went blank.

Trenagen stared at nothing. He had half-expected this response from them; at least they had the decency to return his calls, and offer their farewells... in their own singular fashions.

He considered Satok's words. Yes, the discord between Ma'Sala and he stemmed from far more than a difference in politics. And yes, he could possibly win in the coming conflict... but his outlook on life did not lend him to much optimism.

He grimaced in pain, before tapping the black combadge on the collar of his undershirt. "Bridge: prepare for battle."

*

Starfleet Intelligence HQ, Earth -- 20 Years Ago:

Admiral Trenagen picked at the plate of hors d'oeuvres Léon had proffered him, amazed that how substandard the food was even in the upper echelons of power. One of his colleagues referred to these meetings as 'The Rubber Chicken Festival'. Trenagen had begun to see the reasoning behind it-