SD 241212.18 || "Plots" || JL || CinC / SFSEC Ops Coord. || Adm Kerry Malone & Cmdr Gabriel Parsons

Posted on Tue Dec 18th, 2012 @ 8:33am by Captain Robert Lansine

1,059 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Romulan Ale.. I mean Aide
Location: Starfleet HQ - Earth
Tags: Starfleet Command, Walz

< < Cross post from Starfleet list > >

=/\= Starfleet Headquarters =/\=

“I’m quite fine, thank you,” Gabriel said sharply as he waved off the worrisome looks of the bystander junior officers. Gasping slightly, he leaned into the wall and caught his breath. The run from the conjoining building’s transporter pad to the entrance to the Starfleet Commander’s office had almost proved too much for him.

Office life was getting to him.

News of the Tholian Embassy attack had rocked the Security Office. The consistent barrage of attacks so close to home was beginning to affect his department’s morale, and with it their performance. An impromptu call to the Head of Starfleet’s office wasn’t doing much to calm his nerves.

Showing up late only compounded the feeling.

Malone sat, unaccustomed to being kept waiting by a junior staff officer. Hell, no one had kept him waiting since he’d put stars on his collar ten years ago. He was most aggrieved at this turn of events, especially as this would likely set his entire day back, and eat into whatever free time had been allotted to him by his evil staff corps.

Ignoring standard operating procedure and certain future reprimand Gabriel hurried past the Starfleet Commander's assistant staff and slipped into the Admiral's office. Unfortunately for him, Malone was sitting, waiting for him.

"Sir," Gabriel began, adjusting his uniform and attempting to catch his breath all at the same time. "I'm sorry I'm late."

“You damn well better be!” Malone snapped angrily at the Commander. “You are twenty minutes late! This is wholly unacceptable!”

Remembering back to the transporter pad, Parsons thought of explaining his tardiness. Never being a fan of excuses, he wasn't about to start in the premier office of all of Starfleet. "I understand, sir." He stood straight and hopefully what appeared to be conviction. Gabriel could handle a tongue lashing, and although he disliked appearing incompetent in front of superior officers, it need be it was an acceptable trade off for getting work done.

“Right, you’d better get on with why you’re here.” Malone said. “We clearly don’t have any time to waste on pleasantries.”

"The attack on the Tholian Embassy," Gabriel reached into his uniform and dug out his personal padd. "In accordance with Intelligence we've been able to determine it's only the beginning," he pressed a few commands into the padd and sent the corresponding information to the Admiral's desk computer. "Starbases all across the Federation space appear to be targets."

“What information lead to that conclusion, Commander?” Malone asked incredulously.

"What started off as tracking illegal narcotics trafficking evolved into a departmental wide search for this," he again pointed the Admiral's attention, through his handheld, to the chemical identification image now revolving on their screens. "Starfleet Security Explosive designation 12-Tango. Virtually invisible to modern sensors, this deadly compound can, per cubic liter, destroy a building the size of Starfleet HQ."

“And you believe it is this substance that they used in the Tholian bombing?” Malone asked. “Because there’s also the Andorian bombing to investigate, and that was a very different attack.”

Gabriel nodded, "Yes, there appear to be differences between the two attack, but-," he took another breath and tapped his padd, bringing up new set of images, "the chemical marker, one I mind you that is only known to exist in the presence of 12-Tango, is almost certainly in the wreckage of what used to be the Tholian Embassy. My investigators assure me."

“Alright, for the moment, lets focus on this.” Malone said. “Where is this leading us? I need a damn slight more information before I put every starbase, outpost and facility on high alert.”

"I was hoping you'd say that," Gabriel smiled for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. Bringing up another set of information, he started again, "This man led investigators to the information that allowed us to identify the explosive residue at the Tholian embassy." The faded image of the Orion operative appeared on screen. "Quite the slippery one, but ultimately useful, he goes by Walz. Notably an information dealer, he's had found himself on the wrong side of Starfleet, yet oddly enough he sought us out this time."

“Nice to know we’re doing business with Orions.” Malone growled. “Please tell me we got something worthwhile.”

"What he provided has proved very useful, and equally disturbing." Gabriel brought one final image to the screen with the flick of his finger. "Detailed accounts of a shipping manifest, originating from what appears to be a Romulan civilian colony to a intricate set of intermediaries before finally arriving on Earth days before the Tholian explosion. "I won't bore you with specifics, but the initial and final shipping manifests don't match. The difference between the two and weigh in and weigh out are off exactly plus two kilograms--the exact mass needed of 12-Tango to obliterate the Tholian Embassy." He paused and let the Admiral absorb the information. "Walz has, on record, testified he was hired to accompany that shipment and insure its uninterrupted travel to Earth and safe from the eyes of our customs agents."

“I find it difficult to take the word of someone who would sell his word for the right price.” Malone said, aggrieved. “However, we cannot discount this information lightly. I assume you’ve stuffed Walz somewhere safe, so as to make sure his information isn’t… sold again.”

"Personally locked him up in Security Central Holding this morning," Gabriel replied, returning his padd to his pocket. "The prior dealings with Starfleet I spoke of, I've tracked down the officer associated. He's the First Officer of the USS Vindicator, Commander Robert Lansine."

“Where’s the Vindicator now?” Malone asked.

"Sir, the Vindicator, at last report, was assisting a small remote Romulan colony," Parsons, fully understanding the implications attached to his following statement, spoke slow and deliberately. "The same colony Walz reports the shipment carrying the explosive originated from."

“I would suggest we have a word with this… Commander Lansine.” Malone said. “Dispatch a starship to secure the Vindicator, and bring her here.”

The brashness of the order, however perhaps appropriate, still caught Gabriel off guard. "Yes, sir. I'll send word to have the nearest ship rendezvous as soon as possible.

“You have your orders, Commander.” Malone said. “Dismissed.”

 

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