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Cptn Corizon

A Game Afoot

The N’Orexen-class cruiser Ferocious Raptor and her two attendant scout ships, Grappled Warren and Flame’s Edge, dropped out of warp and fanned out. On the Oira of the Ferocious, her commander sat with a grim expression on her face.

 

“Report.”

 

“No sign of intruders,” the operations officer said. “Only traces of what are possibly ion trails, but they’re fairly degraded. We’d have to drop cloak to determine more.”

 

“Do so.”

 

“Ie.”

 

“Put us in orbit of the base and stand by to link up with it. If someone was here, I want to know.”

 

--

 

Worlds away on a small, out of the way outpost between the neutral zone and the Romulan homeworld, Jasek tr’Lossel sat at his terminal glancing through the myriad of data streams passing through the base and on their way to their final destination. Take a sip of warm kollani he sighed. Today promised to be yet another very boring shift. Nothing even remotely interesting had popped onto his monitor – not even so much as a lovely letter from a jol stricken erein on his first mission to his sweetheart back home on the two worlds.

 

Jasek put his cup down and leaned back into his chair, considering how he’d managed to get himself into such a soul crushing assignment, before he could relive the details, however, he noticed a blinking light on his console that indicated an incoming priority message.

 

Sitting up straight he ran his fingers over the console. Unlike most communications, priority messages had to be routed around by operators at various “hubs” (like the one he worked at) so that they wouldn’t get mired in the glut of communications. As he ran his fingers over the buttons, routing the transmission through the array and past a line of other communiqués in queue, he lifted his brow.

 

Normally priority messages weren’t all that interesting, but even if this hadn’t been an exceptionally slow day, this one would have been the motherload.

 

“I’ll be…”

 

As he patched the communiqué through to homeworld, he also activated a small device on the console, copying the entire message as it went. With the message gone, he tucked

the device into his pocket and looked over across the room to his supervisor.

 

“Habreon,” he said. “May I be excused? It’s a slow day, looks like you have everything. If you need me, just give me a call.”

 

The stocky Romulan grunted and waved a hand. “Sure Jasek, just don’t tell Esan…”

 

“I won’t.”

 

--

 

Down in his quarters, Jasek could barely contain himself as he connected the small device to his terminal. Keying in a series of codes, he finally let out a heavy breath. “My my....”

 

The communication, as it turned out, had come from a small here-to-abandoned-base somewhere just inside the neutral zone and was marked as “URGENT: GALAE COMMAND EYES ONLY.” Jasek smiled. This, he reminded himself, was why he’d ended up with this job in the first place.

 

Running his hands over the terminal again, he began to decrypt the message. Most of it was under heavy encryption that would take several hours to break, however, there appeared to be a number of visuals included in the file, possibly sensor records, that were glomped together in a less secure file attached to the message; he focused on them.

 

After around thirty minutes, he finally cracked the code and waited for the images to unpack. When they did, he could only blink. “What the hell?”

 

He’d half expected some sort of Romulan prototype or hell he didn’t even know, but instead, what he found were obvious, if a bit fuzzy, images of an Akira-class starship under fire from something. The stamp on the images confirmed them to be sensor records from the outpost the message had originated from, and dated them some hours before.

 

Jasek blinked and took a deep breath. “I don’t… what… elements.”

 

After a few minutes, he decided that he needed to report this to his superiors. If they running an operation, they needed to know that the Romulans were onto them, or that it had gone south. With that, Jasek began composing a message in a language he hadn’t spoken in seven years.

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