Set Adrift

[Charlotte Matsumura 0]

The Rihan known as Gaius Iuruth tr'Argelian stared blankly out into the darkness of space, closing his hand tightly around an isolinear chip. The control console before him blinked red and he sighed. It really had been too easy. Less than thirty-six hours on ch'Rihan, and the information for which he had travelled so far fell into his lap: Reports that detailed Tal'Shiar participation in the weapons smuggling that now plagued a portion of the Gamma Quadrant, as well as a few key names and dates. More surprising was the revelation of key players within the Federation – members of Fleet Intelligence leadership and, if he had a guess, the "defunct" Section 31. It was just enough information to make certain members of the current regimes very, very uncomfortable. It was also just enough information to get Khiy – or himself – killed. Fleeing for his life with the chip became a priority.

 

Which led him to his current predicament. The cloaked scout ship he appropriated another lifetime ago had not aged well. The moisture of the storage environment had not done the bioneural interfaces any favors, and the lack of flight time had wreaked havoc with her control systems. It was through sheer force of will that Gaius had made it as far as he did. Finally, within sight of Federation space, propulsion gave way. He was left with limited power and expired provisions – not the best planning on his part. And now he two choices: Sit, wait, and hope he could choose who he contacted for assistance, or decloak and send out a distress signal, alerting patrolling Galae or Federation assets to his presence.

 

Piquing the curiosity of patrolling Rihannsu was definitely his last resort; they would be entirely too interested in what he, an unauthorized third party, would be doing in a stolen scout ship approaching Federation space. There would be debriefings – much less civilized than his conversation with Khiy, and likely involving some forms of coercion. He had been well trained to reveal nothing under duress. Still, physical tactics might reveal more than they suspected. The moment his blood was spilled, it would all be over. Malcolm Grayson Alexander would bleed red and be killed for the Federation spy that he was.

 

But discovery by Federation assets presented another set of problems. According to the official record, the commander had been removed from the active field roster by his own request, and transferred to Camelot Station, where he was to serve in the communications unit. It was plausible, given his education, and provided stable cover for his role as station chief. And, in the grand scheme, revelation of a station chief aboard Camelot would surprise no one. But the operation of his own agent – LTJG Charlotte Matsumura – required he maintain said cover. Without it, she could not complete her assignment, the entire reason for which she had trained an additional two years.

 

Rescue by the Federation was, by all reasoning, the lesser of the two evils. It was still a fate he hoped to avoid. If he was lucky – if he was really, really lucky, he might be able to relay a message to one of the listening posts nearby. That would keep the whole ordeal "in the family," as it were; it would keep both cover stories intact. The problem was that without knowing the exact frequency, he might as well be broadcasting into a black hole. He could hope their hourly bandwidth sweep would stumble across a low-level, encrypted repeater before someone else found it, too.

 

Slipping the isolinear chip back into his own concealed pocket, Alexander turned his attention back to the controls. Power was holding steady for now, and the communications system was still online. It was now or never. Drawing his lips to a thin line, he set to carefully composing his distress signal.

 

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