Marx Log: SD 20508.18

[will_marx 0]

((AN: This was originally sent out to the mailstring back in August, of 2005, while in Iraq. I was unable to post it because Central Command's Signal Section felt that STSF was a "gaming site". Goes to show that there was at least another STSFer trying to sim before I got there on the government computers. And I'd also like to thank Dac, again, for the assist.))

 

A small light freighter dropped out of warp near Starbase 143, and proceeded on impulse power towards the station. There was nothing remarkable about the disk-shaped freighter, a pair of mandibles acting as her bow. The cockpit sat offset, along the starboard side, just aft of starboard mandible, almost as if it were an afterthought. A large scanner dish sat opposite of the hull extension leading to the cockpit. There were a pair of Type IV phaser turrets sitting on the ship’s yaw axis. The cargo loading door located on portside of the ship with a standard docking ring and airlock on the starboard side. Both hatches were on the ship’s pitch axis. Although she could be operated by a crew of five, Antilles Engineering Corporation designed the freighter to be operated efficiently with a crew of one.

 

“USS Arcadia, this is the Wild Stallion. Request permission to come along side and dock,” the lone occupant said into the hailing frequency.

 

“Wild Stallion, this is the Arcadia,” a voice that the pilot didn’t recognize replied. “State purpose.”

 

“Arcadia, tell the Executive Officer that I have a deal on the latest Risan slingback pumps for her.” He knew that would get her attention.

 

“Wild Stallion, wait. Out.” The pilot of the Wild Stallion slowed his ship’s approach and began a graceful arc towards the Arc. The subspace radio crackled to life again. “Wild Stallion, Arcadia, you will submit to a security scan prior to docking at Docking Port 4.”

 

“Roger, Wild Stallion out.” The small ship began its final approach towards the Sovereign-class battleship, slowing as the pilot neared the docking port, including a roll inverted in relation to the Arcadia to align the docking ports. With a vibration that slightly jarred the freighter, locking lugs engaged, securing the Wild Stallion to the much larger vessel.

 

After bringing the engines to a warm shutdown, the pilot of the freighter climbed out of his seat, and threw a cloak on, pulling the hood up so that his face was obscured.

 

******

 

Hayden stood impatiently outside the airlock, in anticipation of adding to her already impressive collection of shoes. It hadn’t helped that Moose had left the ship for his conference without even allowing her a moment’s opportunity to go shopping. If her stepfather were still alive, he might have some things to say about the family’s Federation Express bills. She was also aware that when her little brother returned from what ever he was doing with Special Operations, she’d have to return his quarters to him, and look for another walk-in shoe closet. Or just reassign him new quarters.

 

The airlock cycled, and the pressure doors slid quietly open. A cloaked figure walked out, and in front of the Commander. “Commander Dacotah, I presume,” he(?) said.

 

“Correct, Mr.…”

 

“My name is not important right now,” the shrouded figure replied. “Is there somewhere we can discuss business, Commander? I’d rather not do it in this corridor.”

 

“We’ll go to Ten-Forward,” she replied.

 

“I would prefer somewhere more private,” he replied.

 

Marine Sergeant Ja’arh’Ed looked at the XO. “He passed the security scan, Commander,” he said. “He’s not on the Federation or Starfleet watch lists. And there are no weapons on him.”

 

“Sergeant,” Hayden said, “remind me to have you meet my brother or sisters-in-law. They’ve trained most of their lives to use their bodies as weapons.”

 

“I’m not a threat, Commander. Merely a modest shoe merchant, looking for the custom of the most famous person amongst my humble trade.”

 

“Very well then,” Hayden replied. “Follow me, please.” The cloaked form followed the ship’s first officer to the nearest lift, still under Marine escort. “Observation lounge,” she said when they got into the car. Only a few minutes of travel, and the lift deposited them on the aft side of the bridge.

 

Hayden offered the cloaked form a seat, which he gracefully took. “Can I offer you some refreshment?”

 

“Thank you, no,” he replied. “Shall we get down to business, then.” He lowered the hood of his cloak.

 

“Oh my god! Will!” Hayden shouted, as she recognized her little brother. “How…where…what…when…who…why…?”

 

“Well, now that you’ve asked all the pertinent questions, sis,” he said chuckling. “I can’t go into all the pertinent information, but I’ve been on the planet T’Krit in the I’rak system since I graduated Ft. Benning. Its undercover work, and not very glamorous. And it’s also classified higher than what you’re even allowed to see.”

 

“Will, your eye…what happened? And how’d you get that scar?”

 

“Ah, I see you noticed my little cosmetic change,” he said wryly. The answer is one in the same.” He removed the eyepatch that was over his left eye. The scar went from his hairline angling to his left earlobe. The socket itself was a mass of scar tissue. “Never get into a fight with an enraged, drunken Klingon when wearing glasses. Especially about honor,” Will muttered that last bit. “Before you offer the services of Sickbay, and the quacks therein, the eyepatch helps my cover. I doubt I’ll want to repair the damage if I get back into Fleet service anyway.”

 

“I take it the mission was successful?”

 

Will thought for a moment on how to discuss the mission he was on. He’d been approached towards the end of last year by Starfleet SOCOM to follow in his brother’s footsteps. Part of what drew their attention was Will’s knack for undercover work, and his specialties in unarmed combat.

 

The pirates that were menacing the trade lanes in the fringes of the border region with the Beta Quadrant were still there. Will’s brother had infiltrated the crew of one of the most despicable of pirates: the Dread Pirate Roberts. “No. The organization is too pervasive for one or two teams to take it out. There needs to be a steady Fleet influence there, hopefully culminating in a decisive battle between fleets.”

 

“How are Xian Pu and Ranko,” he asked, changing topics. He hadn’t seen his two wives since he shipped off for Special Operations school, and the graduation ceremony was closed to non-Fleet personnel; it didn’t matter that they were the daughters-in-law of a highly decorated deceased Fleet Admiral and the former head of the Time Cops…er, TDI. No civilian personnel at all.

 

“They’re doing alright. Moose thought it would be prudent for them to return home, so Mom’s keeping an eye on them on the Ranch. Congratulations, by the way little brother, Ranko had her twins a couple of months ago. She named them Nodoka and Will Jr.” Hayden had to think about how she was going to break this news. “But…”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Your twins with Ranko will be the only children from her. You remember that nutcase that was always hounding you and Ranko at Furinkan?” Will nodded. “Seems he hadn’t given up on his ‘pigtailed warrior goddess’ that was ‘ensorcelled by that foul demon Marx’…” Hayden stopped when she her brother’s face grow grim. “He attacked her with bare steel, Will. She’s alive, and able to walk and practice the Art, but…”

 

“He’s a dead man,” Will growled. “I’ll tear his head off and use his skull for a bookend. I’ll…” Hayden reached across the table and slapped her little brother, knocking some sense into him. “What was that for?”

 

“The Amazons declared blood-feud on the Kuno clan,” Hayden said. “With Mom’s approval. It was a short and bloody fight, and the clan no longer exists. Xian Pu personally took the fool’s head off.”

 

“But the damage is done, sis.” Will said, remorsefully.

 

“And your wife is still alive. And you still have two lovely children with Ranko.” Hayden reached into her tunic and pulled out a pair of flimsies. They showed Ranko, Xian Pu, Chibi-Hayden, with her purplish hair like her mother, and the twins. Nodoka already had a shock of red hair, and Will looked like his father.

 

Will calmed down a little. “Thanks, Sis.”

 

“Will, do yourself a favor—Take some leave, and go visit your family. Go home, Will, and forget about this vendetta with the Dread Pirate Roberts. Your wife needs you, little brother. You’re no good to either dead.”

 

“I’ll think about it, Sis.”

 

“I could order you, Will.”

 

Will smiled. “You’re not in my chain of command, Sis.”

 

“I still outrank you.”

 

“Honestly, I’ll think about it.” He looked at his chrono. “I’ve been docked here too long. I’ve got to get back out there.”

 

“I’ll walk you back to the airlock.”

 

“Thanks”

 

The two chatted about the changes in the crew, new department heads swapped out for old, absent friends. “Will, be careful,” Hayden said when they got back to the docking port.”

 

“I always am,” Will replied.

 

Hayden snorted. “You’re too much like Chris, little brother. Keep your head down, and go home. At least for a little while.”

 

“I’ll think about it sis.” He hugged his sister before returning to his ship.