"Past Imperfect"

[Guest Laarell]

Twelve years ago...

 

"You're next."

 

The words slightly startled Laarell; she looked up and nodded. "Okay," she answered, quietly, picking up the small case of papers she held.

 

"You'll be fine." The lieutenant, her friend, shrugged. "You're under the hot lights -- there are five of them who'll ask you to answer questions, but they're not too intimidating."

 

"Yeah?" The Orion cadet knew she was less than convincing, and weakly, she adjusted the hem of the cadet's tunic she wore.

 

He smiled at her. "Yeah. It's all perfunctory. It's a shame that you even had to go through this -- but everyone who worked at Intel within the last six or seven months or so got called in." The smile spread to a grin. "And after all, you haven't done anything, so it's not like you have anything to fear."

 

She carefully forced herself to laugh. "Yeah, of course. You're right," Laarell replied, and passed through the set of doors leading into the inquiry's chamber.

 

Two of the five members of the inquiry committee she didn't recognize, one only from standard knowledge of any cadet, and the other two she'd met. And of those, one face was encouraging.

 

The other sent a chill through her.

 

 

* * *

 

Three months prior.

 

Finals were ending, and Laarell was as confident as any of the other cadets that she'd managed to do well. She genuinely had enjoyed the semester, focusing in on her programming skills almost to the exclusion of other courses -- but those could always be worked into a later semester. Or two, or three.

 

Thusly, when she was sitting in Professor Haldon'sur's office when the exams were completed, she wasn't feeling particularly nervous -- she knew she wasn't on track to fail, and unless something had gone seriously wrong, Teykier had a strong suspicion that the Rigelian was going to be the bearer of good news.

 

He finally arrived, toting a familiar-looking admiral -- Fujisaki was the name, Laarell believed. Vice Admiral Fujisaki. She rose, custom reigning, inclining her head slightly. "Sirs..."

 

"Sit down, Cadet," the Rigelian offered, politely. "You know Admiral Fujisaki, of course."

 

She nodded. "Of course -- he's been kind enough to personally oversee the study program that Starfleet Intelligence organized for our programming courses." Laarell turned her attentions to the admiral. "Thank you, Sir."

 

He nodded in reply, looking over the Orion for a moment before speaking. "Your instructor has given me permission to inform you that you were top of all the programming classes this semester. My compliments."

 

"Is that so?" she answered, her eyes lighting. "That's... surprising."

 

"Is it?" the admiral asked, arching a neutral brow. "Of course, such distinctions open certain... possibilities... for you."

 

"Possibilities?" Uncertainly, Laarell glanced from Haldon'sur to Fujisaki, heart thudding in her chest.

 

The elder officer's tight features relaxed into an easy smile. "Yes, Cadet, and possibilities lead to opportunities. Part of the reason we launched this cooperative venture between Intelligence and the Academy was to gauge some of the current students, and see exactly who might fit well into a summer position." He shrugged. "It's nothing glamorous -- paperwork and algorithms, mostly. You'll mainly be going through low-classification data, decoding the encryptions on them."

 

Laarell tilted her head slightly, considering. "What sort of data?"

 

"Various things -- low-level transmissions from starships, field reports..." Fujisaki shrugged. "Nothing particularly sensitive -- the sort of work our junior operatives do. I won't lie -- you'll mainly be freeing up officers' time for other matters by taking the easier work off their hands. Sound like something you would have an interest in?"

 

She nodded, wordless for a moment. "Certainly, Sir. Such an... opportunity... would be an honor."

 

Benevolently, he smiled, nodding to the Rigelian. "Then, if there's nothing else..."

 

"Only my thanks." Laarell smiled softly, glancing at Haldon'sur, who outright grinned.

 

"Nothing else, Admiral. But, I do ask that you don't keep her." The grin never failed. "I want her back for the fall term, hear? Intelligence doesn't get to snag her before she's even out of the Academy."

 

"I make no promises." Fujisaki smirked slightly, looking over Teykier again. "I might just keep her for myself."

 

 

* * *

 

Four weeks later...

 

"You know, most of the females we get in here -- at least in this division -- are the homely types. I don't like being sexist, but it's true! George!" Laarell's next-cubicle neighbor called across the aisle. "Have we ever seen an Orion in Cryptography before?"

 

"Yeah," the disembodied voice across the hallway projected. "Some special agent woman walked through here once when she needed to drop off some programming instructions."

 

"Wow... I wasn't in that day."

 

"You weren't," George affirmed, and Laarell snickered, the voice formless no longer as most of George's head appeared over the top of the cube. "You know, Teykier, he's hopeless. You'd think he came from some planet where men never were allowed to see women or something."

 

Laarell giggled, about to respond, when another voice down the row complained loudly. "For crying out loud, can you keep it down over there? Don't you people work? Some of us do!" The trio sighed, dispersing back to their solitary nooks, and indeed, got to work.

 

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully, Laarell dully switching from binary codes to trinary encryptions, the occasional more complex algorithm coming through her stack. Nothing caught her eye -- obviously, if it was allocated to an ungraduated academy cadet, nothing would, but Laarell couldn't complain. Excitement always led to trouble.

 

It was a good day -- she only had a four or five projects left in her ever-present pile, and the next was an easy one. Simple encryption, simple numerical data to be entered into the computer system.

 

She finished sorting the algorithms into comprehendable data, when one data strand didn't complete. Laarell frowned -- was there a second layer of coding she'd stumbled across by chance? It didn't seem likely -- why would there be another layer?

 

Her programming ran for a good hour before turning up the answer -- the layers of encryption on this little bit far outpaced any of the simple decoding that she'd been doing for Intelligence. But it was such a little bit of data...

 

Laarell scribbled down what she did have on a spare paper notepad, and downloaded all of the data onto a portable disc, carrying it up to Fujisaki's office before learning that her "sponsor" admiral was out for the afternoon. No matter to the cadet, however -- the head of the cryptography division, an Admiral Kyle Magraw, would be just as qualified to look over her query. Moreso, possibly, she realized. After all, it was almost going over Magraw's head to go straight to Fujisaki, and that certainly wasn't acceptable.

 

She knocked and entered, explaining the oddity of the situation as briefly as she could. "It seems," she eventually finished, "that the file was doubly encoded. One, an easy to break, pointless message, and the second, cloaked in a hidden layer."

 

Magraw considered, his scarred, weathered face tight as he thought. "Likely a glitch or a fragment sent to your desk by accident." He shrugged. "I'll hold on to it, have one of the senior programmers look it over to make certain." He gave her a quick smile. "Thank you, Cadet."

 

"Sir." Laarell nodded, giving a final glance to the disc, and departed the office.

 

* * *

 

That afternoon had, unfortunately, not brought the entirety of her work to completion. Laarell was disappointed by this, electing to remain at headquarters while the others went out for the drinks. The hours tolled later and later, and eventually, it was evening.

 

"Burning midnight oil, are we? And on a Friday?" a casual, careless voice startled, and Laarell jumped slightly. "I would have thought you'd have left with your colleagues."

 

"Admiral!" She laughed slightly. "I assumed I was the only one left after hours in this dreary place."

 

"No... my work occasionally demands that I remain quite late." Fujisaki leaned against the frame of her cubicle, considering her. "A woman who's passionate about her work to the exclusion of her social life... a rarity, to be certain."

 

"I think that's a compliment," Laarell joked. "But yes... it was... necessary. These needed to be decrypted by the weekend..."

 

"Take the rest of the night off. They can wait." He gave her a cold smile, and something in her eyes unsettled her. "I was just leaving myself, for a long-delayed dinner. Perhaps you'd like to accompany me? We could discuss a few of the files giving you so much trouble..."

 

Laarell swallowed hard, glancing up at him. "Sir..."

 

"I know an excellent restaurant, just a few blocks from here..."

 

"Kind," she assured quickly, "though I was thinking of calling it a night anyway. I told the others I'd catch up to them at the 602 Club if I ever gave up."

 

"Ah." He nodded, face guarded and neutral. "Perhaps another time, then."

 

"Another time," the cadet agreed, smiling softly.

 

Fujisaki started to saunter away, but something stayed his steps, and he turned. "You have potential, cadet," he remarked, from nowhere. "A rare mind." He nodded curtly, leaving Laarell slightly surprised, and soon, he was gone from her sight, if not thoughts.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later...

 

 

Laarell did enjoy her work; the summer weeks passed quickly with the piles of assignments. They were, as usual, dull, if oddly interesting at times. Routine suited her, and this was a routine she easily fell into.

 

Routine was shattered one morning in August, when the number of yellow-collars swarming the premises was... disturbing. It didn't take a C-4 certification in computer science to understand something had happened.

 

She pushed her way through the mob of curious onlookers and security personnel, going about business as much with as much "usual" as she could. But her floor was no better, and Laarell frowned at the crowds.

 

"What's going on?" she demanded, looking over at the lieutenant she bordered.

 

"You didn't hear?"

 

"Hear?" Laarell lifted an eyebrow.

 

He looked surprised. "You don't watch the news in the mornings? No matter. Fujisaki's dead, Laarell. They found him earlier today, dead in his home." A slight frown. "Food poisoning. But you know the media -- it's sensational, so naturally, they'll flood the place. Fleet Security's done well keeping them out."

 

It took a moment to sink in, and Laarell knew her shock had spread to a stunned expression on her face. "You're not serious..." She was silent for a moment, glancing aside. "Did they suspect any foul play?"

 

"Apparently not -- it was pretty obvious, I guess." He shrugged, giving a little sigh. "I'm sorry, Laarell -- I know he gave you the chance to be here..."

 

"It's nothing." She frowned slightly, but her face was sad. "It's all right... I was never really that close to him, I suppose."

 

The day passed somberly, the department mulling the loss, and eventually, Laarell had finished her work, cleaning her desk when she knocked something to the floor, reclaiming it considerately.

 

Her notes -- a small pad she'd lost for a few weeks. Notes with a few words, a date she'd pulled. Notes that, for some odd reason, were churning her stomach.

 

For a good hour Laarell mulled over the notepad, turning it over again and again in her palm, inner battles raging onward. But after two hands' worth of chewed nails, three mindless digital games of Pachmarian solitaire and a handful of unnecessary trips to the vending machines on the other side of the building, the cadet ran out of nerves and ways to stall.

 

The narrow corridor through the cubicles seemed longer than normal; Laarell felt slightly dizzy. It seemed an eternity before she reached the office of the one administrator she knew -- and the one who'd been on shift when she'd first come across the encryption. She knocked.

 

"Enter," Magraw called, his familiar voice touched with warm timbres.

 

She quietly pushed open the office door, trying to keep the fluster from her voice. "Hi," she started, resting her hand nervously on the back of one of the office's chairs. "Can I sit?"

 

"Of course." He smiled amicably at her, inclining his head slightly. "Please do."

 

"I know what I'm going to say will sound strange, but..." Laarell shrugged slightly, pushing the pad across his desk with one finger. She frowned, her face twisting slightly, and seemed to struggle a bit for continuation.

 

"Go on, Cadet," Magraw prodded gently. "I promise not to laugh," he teased, and as he glanced at her notes, his cold smile hit his eyes.

 

Another deep breath, and the Orion steeled herself. "Well, Sir, if you recall, several weeks ago, I came across an odd data encryption in my assigned files -- a highly-encrypted one."

 

"Yes?" He blinked at her, face wrought with noncomprehension. "I don't exactly remember -- so many files, you understand. A fractured file? Something else?"

 

"Yes, Sir." She blushed slightly. "There was a date encoded on it -- that's the date, there in my notes. Yesterday, Admiral," she pointed out, as if the connection wasn't obvious

 

Magraw's smile faded, slowly, and he frowned slightly at her. "What of it? Cadet," he addressed, his voice turning to ice. "I have no idea what you're speaking of. Please explain quickly, as I have little time to devote to confusing aides. What are you implying about this... this mystery file of yours?"

 

"Sir... Admiral..." Laarell hesitated again, and treading cautiously. "Admiral Fujisaki was believed to have died of natural causes?"

 

"Food poisoning," Magraw answered staunchly.

 

"What if it wasn't, Sir?" she asked, quietly. "What if that file was somehow tied... to his death? Through... some means that wasn't at all natural?"

 

There was a long, unbroken silence where the admiral never broke eye contact with her, speaking more than any words could have ever answered. "Cadet Teykier," he issued, softly, but his voice steel. "As far as I am aware, you have dealt with no particularly unusual files during your time here at Intelligence. Regarding any conspiracy theories your... wild imagination has dreamt, I give you only one warning." Every word was distinct, painted with false warmth and Laarell felt true shivers of fear.

 

"Starfleet doesn't take kindly to officers who run off at the mouth so, and at such little provocation. In fact, I would say that repeating such fanciful stories would be extremely detrimental to your future career."

 

* * *

 

"Then you have no relevant information regarding the unfortunate loss of Vice Admiral Fujisaki?" The head of the committee gave her a kindly look as he spoke, perhaps pitying the cadet drawn into the midst of such a situation.

 

Laarell's chin lifted slightly, and she let her gaze drift from one member of the committee to the other, but her eyes still lingered on the human at the farthest end.

 

"None, Sirs," she answered, clearly.

 

"Very well." They almost sounded... pleasant. "Thank you for your time, cadet."

 

And the Orion's role in the committee hearing ended; thusly, so did any potential involvement from then-cadet Laarell Teykier. Formally.

 

But then, guilt always follows where justice falls short.

 

* * *

 

Admiral Magraw's office, within three days, had been reassigned and redecorated. Such was the privilege of a contrived personality and image that was... average. No one remembered you, no questions were asked in the melee that followed disaster. The hearings on Fujisaki's death complete, there was no need for the identity to remain.

 

A man Luther Sloan was a master of such identities. He could be a thousand places at once or none. Work complete, he could move on.

 

And Luther Sloan always moved on with ease. For anyone not to was weakness.

Edited March 31, 2008 by Laarell

[Sorehl 0]

"Admiral Fujisaki was believed to have died of natural causes?"

Nice tie-in to the DS9 episode "Inter Arma Enim Silent Lege".