Surefoot 57: Cloak and Dagger

"Ian?"

He turned, setting aside the plate at the approach of the very man who had coined the phrase. "Gregory, a pleasure as always."

Admiral Gregory Quinn drew up. A senior officer in Starfleet Operational Support Services, he was an older human, though both men shared the same snow-white hair and hangdog expression that always triggered remarks about their always appearing miserable. "Ian, has there been any more news about the Stargazer attack?"

Trenagen folded his hands behind him; following the recovery of the crew of that ship in the Maxia Sector, there had been than one person who had asked him about the incident. "We are still collating the intelligence from the survivors."

Quinn frowned. "What, no idea about who attacked them?"

"The tactical data retrieved from the escape pods on the attacking vessel was limited, but it does appear to have been the victim of an unidentified vessel." He paused and enquired, "May I ask your interest in the details?"

The other man glared back, before relaxing his expression. "My son. He's in his final year in the Academy, and he'll be graduating into a Galaxy where we've had conflict with the Cardassians, the Talarians and Tholians, where the Klingons and Romulans are tearing into each other, and now there's a potential new threat. Maybe even that legendary race of cyborgs we keep hearing are out there..." He shook his head, smirking. "We seemed to have had a more peaceful, optimistic time in the years since we were Squabs, eh, Ian?"

Trenagen controlled his expression, recalling the exposed infiltration of Utopia Planitia by Martian Separatists, the machinations of the Cosmostrator, the incursion by extradimensional aliens from Folded Space, the suppression of a terrorist attack from Omega Glory, the Second Planet Killer, and others. Events that almost occurred in the past three decades, events secretly countered by Section 31 under his control, and would utterly demolish Gregory Quinn's guileless attitude about this 'peaceful, optimistic time'. "Indeed. If you'll excuse me?"

He moved away, focusing on a small collective of Caitians in the red and black uniforms of their Planetary Navy, speaking with Admiral Alynna Nechayev, a young, slim, blonde woman, who had made a name for herself dealing with the Cardassians, and was fairly explicit about her ambitions... something Trenagen could appreciate. "Admiral Trenagen, have you met Fleet Captain Ma'Sala Shall, and her entourage?"

Trenagen turned to the coal-furred Caitian female. He was in fact already acquainted with her, having met her in infrequent virtual Shadow Conferences over the years, but of course that was completely unofficial. The Conference isomorphic projections were limited in their fidelity; here and now and in the flesh, her musk, her tense stance, her dark imperious eyes looking down in judgement at him... made him even more irritated. He put on his best mask of cordiality. "No, I have not had the pleasure. Welcome to Starfleet Intelligence Headquarters, Fleet Captain. Is this your first visit to Earth?"

The Caitian faced him, her paws resting on the wide black belt of her uniform, near a sheathed blaster and knife, and from her response was equally willing to keep their Shadow relationship secret. "No, Admiral, I was here ten years ago, at the graduation of my daughter. She's in Starfleet."

"Indeed?" Trenagen responded politely, already knowing of Shall's daughter, a Counselor, married with a young male offspring... including the incident a year ago, when a Cardassian Militia unit abducted and held her for several days, attempting to glean secrets from her. The Fleet Captain broke protocol and sent her own forces in to rescue her -- and take bloody vengeance upon the unit -- without clearing the matter with Trenagen.

And the female remained completely unapologetic about it, and frankly arrogant in her lack of deference to him as the head of the Shadow Agency watching over the whole of the Federation. "I also understand that your forces have driven back the latest Ferasan incursion on Cait's outer colonies; congratulations are in order. Perhaps now your people will be free to fulfil your obligations as a Federation member world and redirect some of your considerable Navy resources to supplement Starfleet?"

Shall bristled, her tail twitching. "I'm certain we'll do that... when the Federation Council decides to do more than send official condemnations to the Ferasan Patriarchy every time those kussiks decide to invade Caitian territory?"

From the corner of his eye, Trenagen noted the reaction from Nechayev regarding the two of them, but ignored it. "Well, 'Theirs not to reason why / Theirs but to do and die'..."

She frowned. "That's an idiotic philosophy."

He frowned back. "It's from a very famous poem, by a very renowned Terran, reminding us that we are creatures of duty... something someone in your position must understand?"

"There's duty, and then there's self-inflicted ignorance," Ma'Sala replied curtly. "I choose not to be ignorant. The Ferasans have invaded Caitian space four times in the last half-century; at none of those times did the Federation Council authorise Starfleet assistance to us. They've always treated each war like some minor catfight. And you expect us to assist you in fighting enemies that have nothing to do with our people? Kiss my furry ass."

The Caitian and the human stared at each other.

Then Nechayev spoke up, looking hesitant to break the pregnant pause. "Fleet Captain, Commander Kenney of the USS Victory has asked to meet you, to thank you for the Counseling services your daughter has provided to members of his crew recovering from the Cardassian War."

Ma'Sala offered a final glare at Trenagen, before turning to Nechayev. "Lead away, Admiral."

She and her entourage of equally arrogant-looking female Caitian officers walked away without any further acknowledgement of Trenagen.

Trenagen watched their departure.

"Ian?"

Trenagen turned as Léon drew up, ignoring propriety to slip an arm around his. "Was that the Caitian you told me about? She seems formidable."

"She's a threat," Trenagen announced simply. "Do not underestimate her."

*

Antares Maelstrom -- Present Day:

The angry coruscating swirls of red and orange energy clashed and fought on the viewscreen of the Bridge of the Mother's Fury. In comparison with the round and oval designs of Starfleet Bridges, this one was more rectangular, narrowing towards the viewscreen, with officers lining stations on either side, with the Fleet Captain's chair towards the rear, buffered from behind by her First and Second Officers' stations.

Ma'Sala sat as still as she could, staring ahead, taking in the reports from her people.

"Ionic interference from the Maelstrom is significant... compensating shield frequencies..."

"Attuning disruptor cannons, wave guns-"

"Arming quantum missiles, fighters on full alert-"

"There's a power drop in the Slipstream Drive, possibly from the ionic interference-"

"Focus the sensors on the Maelstrom, they'll use the interference as cover-"

"No," Ma'Sala said suddenly, rising to her feet, her tail still, never taking her eyes off the viewscreen, and capturing everyone's attention. "Let me see the debris field."

The image on the viewscreen shifted as ordered, from the fiery, chaotic Maelstrom, to the cold, serene field of rubble and dust, the remnants of a solar system that had been ripped apart aeons ago by the astronomical phenomenon.

"Full scans," Her First Officer Ksara reported. "Nothing, Ma'am. The field density is too thick for them to approach us from that direction-"

"The Vulcan told me they possess a phasing cloaking device," Ma'Sala informed them. "Allowing them to stay invisible, as well as pass through solid matter without disturbing it. They'll think we'll be focusing on trying to track them from the direction of the Maelstrom."

She said nothing more. She didn't need to say anything more.

"Running antiproton scans towards the debris field," Ksara reported. "Nothing... nothing..."

Ma'Sala didn't reply. She knew her prey well, knew his tactics, knew his attitude.

Knew the hate that had grown between them over the years would finally end today.

Guilt washed over her as she recalled her daughter's words, saw and smelled her entirely-justified anger at her mother, for allowing Ma'Sala's Shadow life to affect her personal life so profoundly. She knew how close it had come to losing Esek or Kami, or Misha or Sreen, or Sasha or T'Varik... because she hadn't done this sooner.

Now was her chance to make amends. Even if it killed her.

Which it still could; like most of the Shadow agencies, Section 31 possessed exotic technology from various sources, technology far in advance of conventional forces, but limited not just in order to maintain a tactical advantage, but because of scarcity of required materials. The Mother's Fury possessed some tricks of her own, but would it be enough to-

Ksara's shout snapped her from her thoughts. "Chroniton surge wave detected, one-one-nine-Mark-three!"

Suddenly explosions close to the starboard side of the hull sent the ship reeling. Her Bridge crew relied on their seatbelts; Ma'Sala relied on her grip. Over the sound of their Emergency klaxon, she shouted, "Evasive Pattern 4-7! Raise shields, parashift frequency pattern!"

The ship lurched again, and the lights flickered, as Ksara reported, "Starboard Wave Guns 1 to 4 damaged! Hull breaches on Decks 14 Fore and Mid!"

Ma'Sala looked behind her. "Are there more chroniton surges?"

Ksara glanced down at her station. "Yes, but what does-"

"They have temporal-based weapons! Torpedoes projected several seconds into the future to our projected locations, untrackable by normal sensors! Shields can't keep them out! Helm! Randomise our movements!"

"Ma'Sala!" Ksara snapped, "How in the Seven Hells are we supposed to find an enemy whose invisible, intangible, and fires weapons we can't-" She paused as another explosion rocked them sharply. "Port Wave Guns 6-9 down! Ma'Sala-"

Ma'Sala didn't let her First Officer finish, knowing and agreeing with her. "Computer: Arm Paraphasic Flux Warheads, Authorisation Shall-One! Tactical: Subspace Echogram Sweep, find the general location of that ship! Launch Warheads and feed sweep data for Quadrangulation! NOW!"

*

From the prow of the Mother's Fury, a pack of four missiles launched, sweeping sharply together around towards the debris field and spreading out, their arrays emanating flux waves over transphasic frequencies, seeking anomalies, patterns within the apparent chaos... finding... focusing... before detonating and temporarily transforming small parts of normal space into low-level Chaotic Space, neutralising cloaks, phasing devices, even temporal warheads.

A ship came into view: black as onyx, with the standard Starfleet design of four swept-back nacelles mounted onto a secondary hull, with a sharp, pointed primary hull.

And then it broke apart.

*

On the Mother's Fury Bridge, a junior officer looked up and asked, "Did we damage them?"

"No," Ma'Sala replied simply, recognising the design: Prometheus-class, the latest offering from Starfleet, a pure combat vessel with multi-vector capability, able to split into three independent sections, each section possessing formidable firepower... and that wasn't even counting whatever other classified toys Trenagen might have equipped it with. Louder now, she ordered, "Get all weapons back online! Ready the backup generators for the shields! We're going to need them!"

All right, you withered old kussik, let's dance...

*

USS Potemkin, Orthanc Sector -- 13 Years Ago:

It was all Admiral Trenagen could do to not to lose his temper. He had to maintain control, show no emotion. Such displays were for weaker men. Instead, he remained at the rear of the Bridge and patiently announced, "We require more speed, Captain."

In the centre seat before him, Captain Amanda Chen had to raise her voice to be heard over the protesting whine of her ship's engines running at Maximum Warp, violating the laws of space and time to intensities that made the Universe threaten retribution. "You know we're already going as fast as we can, Admiral."

Yes, he knew. He had been out performing his duties as Chief of Starfleet Intelligence when the alert came, and bereft of his own private transport, he commandeered the services of the Potemkin to get him into the next sector as quickly as possible. Yes, he knew the limitations of the vessel compared to his own, and that it, Chen and her crew were doing everything they can.

Still, he insisted, "Override the safeties, Captain. Consider that a direct order, if it helps you find the courage to take the risk."

The Bridge crew looked in his direction, while trying not to be seen to do so. Chen, on the other hand, rose from her chair and strode up to face him, her demeanour taut but controlled, her authority belying her short stature and round, guileless-seeming face. "With respect, Sir, I don't need the buffer of an order from a superior officer to find courage. Lieutenant, ETA to Isengard?"

Nearby at Ops, Lieutenant Will Riker, a fresh-faced young officer with intense, dynamic eyes and swept-back hair, glanced at his station. "1.6 hours at present speed, Ma'am... but we will not be able to maintain present speed for that long. Engineering reports the warp coils are reaching the point of catastrophic failure, and we'll end up dropping to sublight and waiting for replacements." He keyed in some figures and added, "If we reduce speed to Warp 9.1, however, we'll reach Isengard in 5.3 hours."

Trenagen glared at him. "That is not acceptable, Lieutenant."

Chen moved to stand more between the two men, making an effort to keep herself the focus of Trenagen's ire. "You'll have to learn to accept it, Admiral. The Isengard crew are fortunate that there were vessels passing the system when they sent out their alert, and that one of them was able to respond to the request for an evacuation. We'll get there in plenty of time to collect the survivors from them." She paused, and then offered, "Unless there's something more we need to know about the observation post, Admiral? Something outside of the mission brief you gave us?"

Trenagen stared back; he knew Chen's history, of course, knew she was a decorated veteran of the Cardassian War, knew she was not naive, and that there had to be more to Isengard than just what was in the official records.

But that didn't mean he was about to admit to anything. "You have all the information you need to do your job, Captain."

Chen glowered, before turning to her Science Officer. "Mr Xiragg, have our sensors told us anything more about this... phenomenon?"

The Bolian's bald blue head darkened and creased with concentration as he hunched over his station. "It's a growing field of polaric radiation and nucleonic particles reacting to natural pockets of null space in the system to create... fractures in time. The fractures are joining up like cracks in ice, producing instability that is affecting the normal fabric of space. The cause is... uncertain. The potential is disturbing, especially to the inhabited planet in the system."

Chen turned back to Trenagen, her expression tightening further. "Admiral, I'm going to ask you directly, for the record: is there any connection between activities on Isengard and the time fractures?"

Trenagen drew up, silently admiring her for her courage in standing up to him... and in covering herself and her crew by confronting him publicly. Of course, he couldn't tell her the truth: that Isengard did function as an offworld observation post studying a pre-Warp civilisation... in part. The rest secretly furthered the Klingon temporal weapons research, taking advantage of the natural pockets of null space in the system to hide the evidence from the Orthanc natives... and from Starfleet and the Federation.

So he looked her straight in the eye and responded, "No, Captain. No connection whatsoever."

Riker spoke up again. "Captain, we're getting a signal from Isengard- no, two signals, one audio/visual, the other encrypted- I'm working on decryption-"

"Belay that, Lieutenant," Trenagen snapped, his stomach twisting, looking back at Chen. "You will store the encrypted message in your computer until further notice, and make no attempt to decrypt it. Is that understood, Captain?"

Chen stared back at him, her face speaking volumes, before responding, "You heard our orders, Mr Riker. Let's see the other message."

On the main viewscreen, the image of the starfield dilated to almost impossible extremes was replaced by a large Operations Centre, with smoke and alarms in the background that seemed to complement the interference in the signal... but still clearly displayed one man, a dark-haired, bronze-skinned human male in a Starfleet uniform, looking haggard but relieved to receive the transmission. "Potemkin, this is Captain Léon Landry, in command of the Isengard Observation Post."

Trenagen contained his emotions on seeing his partner again; he had sent Léon here a month before, to wrap up the weapons part of the research, reassign the relevant staff and remove all traces, before meeting up with Trenagen for some long-overdue shore leave on Risa. It should have been a straightforward operation. Should have been... "Léon, what the Devil are you doing there still?"

"I had to stay behind -- the Security protocols required my presence to get them sent to you. You should still be receiving the data transmission."

Beside Trenagen, Chen moved to call up an additional screen, providing images of the outside of the station: built into a huge egg-shaped lump of rock, with various extensions, ports and arrays sticking out of it at various angles... but behind it, rivulets of blue-white vortex energy were reaching out towards the rock like some hungry predator.

Trenagen's heart quickened. "We're receiving it! Now get to the rescue ship!"

But Landry's sober mien preceded his words. "It just left; if it had stayed any longer, it would have been caught in the gravimetric grip of that monstrosity out there."

Trenagen glanced at Chen. "Raise the vessel! Now!"

Chen nodded to her crew to follow the orders, as Landry frowned. "Admiral, no- it's too dangerous for them to come back- I knew the risks when I stayed behind-"

Trenagen ignored him, still fixed on Chen. "What ship left one of our people behind?"

"A Caitian Shikari-class escort, the Broken Paw, part of the security for a small colony convoy just outside the system- they were the only vessels close enough-"

Caitians... Trenagen forced down his distaste to order, "Raise them! NOW!"

Chen stared with wide eyes at him, before complying.

Still onscreen, Landry looked to his partner. "Admiral, they tried to convince me to follow, but I insisted on staying-"

Trenagen looked to him, forcing the terror down. "And I'll insist they return."

"I have Captain S'Nesint of the Broken Paw," Chen announced.

A second later, the external image of Isengard and the phenomenon currently eating it was replaced by a small Bridge, and a sepia-furred uniformed Caitian male. "Yes, Potemkin?"

Chen began to reply, but Trenagen stepped forward. "Captain, one of our people is still behind! You have to return for him!"

"Admiral..." Landry pleaded.

"We know, Potemkin," S'Nesint responded reluctantly. "But we can't go back now. We're overloaded with evacuees from the asteroid! The spatial and subspatial interference is playing havoc with our systems, we can't even warp away, we have to crawl away at Impulse! If we went back now, we'd never escape!"