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Cptn Swain

Conspiring

Corris Sprint quietly excused himself from the operations center and headed for the diplomatic ring. He had been in the Gamma Quadrant, aboard Camelot Station for the entirety of the stations operational life. In that time, he had learned that nothing was ever what it appeared. There was always, it seemed, something deeper, something more subtle about any situation. He had learned, largely, to live with that reality. After all, he had survived the rather turbulent early years of the station when Commander then Captain Ah-Windu Corizon had exercised near total autonomy and regularly got the station and his ship involved in clandestine, cloak and dagger affairs better left to holonovels. In all fairness, though, Corizon wasn’t the first such officer to involve him in such matters; for all his Vulcan sobriety Captain Sorehl had his fair share of run-ins with less than kosher activities.

 

Sprint sighed as the lift deposited him on the diplomatic ring of the station, which overlooked the Court. Clearly the absence of both men hadn’t changed the nature of Gamma Quadrant. Steeling himself, he headed towards the Klingon Embassy. Situated opposite of the Dominion Embassy and beside the Romulan Embassy, the suite of offices that housed Governor K’Vorlag and his staff were sparsely marked and even more sparsely decorated. What passed for a reception area lacked even the most basic of comforts for guests. Long metal benches substituted for chairs and the ‘receptionist’ was a gruff young male who clearly wanted to do something more exciting than screen visitors.

 

“Excuse me,” Sprint said casually. “I was hoping to see the Governor.”

 

“Do you have an appointment,” the young Klingon said skeptically, clearly unaware who Sprint was and what role he played on the station.

 

“No,” Sprint said. “Though it is a matter of some urgency … and delicacy.”

 

Still skeptical, the young Da glanced to a monitor on his ‘desk’. “What is your name,” he stopped to glance at the pips, “Lieutenant Commander?”

 

“Sprint, Ch...”

 

“Ah,” the Da said. “Chief Operations officer, yes?”

 

Sprint nodded. “Is the Governor available then?”

 

“Yes,” the Klingon said. “You may go in now. I’ll let him know you’re on your way in.”

 

“Thank you.” The Klingon didn’t reciprocate verbally, and went back to his rather annoyed countenance as he waited for Sprint to leave.

 

The Embassy, like everything about the Klingons, as straightforward, with the reception area leading into a long hallway with several offices off to either side and ending at a set of heavy, unadorned double doors marked in Klingon script as belonging to K’Vorlag, Governor at Large.

 

Taking yet another deep breath, Sprint lifted the heavy metal knocker on the right door and clanked it against the door several times before stopping and waiting for a response.

 

K’Vorlag’s brusque, deep base thundered out in a matter of moments. “Come!” Sprint headed in, taking in the office, suddenly aware he’d never been in the Governor’s office, despite having had numerous liaisons with him over the years.

 

“General, thank you for seeing me.”

 

K’Vorlag nodded, motioning him to come more fully into the room and be seated. He was short by Klingon standards and roundly built, but what he lacked in stature he made up for in presence. It was a trait that Sprint had always rather admired in the Governor. Despite being neither combative or loud, K’Vorlag always managed to command the attention of anyone, when he chose.

 

“I trust that you’re not here to ask me about that missing shipment of Bloodwine?”

 

Sprint had almost forgot the farcas that had erupted the previous week involving several missing crates of very expensive bloodwine. Smiling, despite himself, Sprint tried his best to be coy. “And what makes you say that?”

 

“Because you know that I had nothing to do with that mess.”

 

Sprint smirked. “So you said...” He paused a moment before sighing. “But you’re right. I didn’t come to talk about that.”

 

“Mmm,” K’Vorlag said. “It’s unlike you to leave your post anyway.”

 

Tipping his head for a moment, Sprint wondered just how the Governor knew his shift or why and made a note for later. Leaving it go for the moment, Sprint nodded again. “To be honest, Governor, I am not entirely certain why I am here, other than Captain Sorehl has always trusted in you.”

 

Sensing the note of urgency in Sprint’s voice, K’Vorlag leaned forward in his chair. He had known Sprint since he was an Ensign, back when they’d both been involved in the original Aegis project, but their dealings had still been entire professional. In all of that time, K’Vorlag could not remember the typically non-plussed operations officer looking so concerned.

 

“Our relationship was not always so... cordial,” he said. “But I am a man of Honor, as is the Captain. Is this about him?”

 

Sprint shook his head. “No,” he said. “Though I honestly wish he were around to be involved.”

 

K’Vorlag nodded. More than anyone else, Sorehl had been a stabilizing force for the Allies in the Gamma Quadrant. “I see. What is that you did come here for then?”

 

It took longer than he’d expected to vocalize the words in his head. Sprint had never outright committed what some people might call treason. He’d bent the rules more than once, but this was on an entirely new level for him. “Several weeks ago, the USS Augustine was redirected, while on a routine mapping mission to the Domaria system...”

 

“The Domaria system?” K’Vorlag said unexpectedly.

 

“You know it?”

 

K’Vorlag frowned deeply. “Yes. Why was a Federation starship sent there?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sprint said. “I didn’t even know the planet was quarantined until recently. At any rate, they had sent a message asking for a mission specialist about 6 weeks ago. Command sent one directly to us, but in the meantime, we lost contact with the Augustine; we believed it to be from the ion storm. The Excalibur was dispatched to drop off the mission specialist and make sure everything was okay.”

 

K’Vorlag’s frown had turned into an angry scowl.

 

“Governor?”

 

“Domaria is not a system where people should just be going on a Sunday stroll.”

 

Sensing he’d opened up a particularly nasty hornet’s nest, Sprint frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

“It is a long story,” he said, “But to get to the heart of it -- after the war, the Domaria system was part of a collection of systems the Dominion gave over to the allies, specifically us...”

 

“Yes,” Sprint said. “Since they wanted to cut down their perimeters.”

 

“I think you people have a saying... buyer beware, yes?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“One of my scout teams surveyed the planet, after I gave my report to the High Council, we turned it over to Starfleet. What happened from that I don’t know, other than the team Starfleet sent there after our’s, left nearly as quickly.”

 

“Fascinating,” Sprint said, quirking his head. “Do you know what the record on that planet says?”

 

“I can take a guess.”

 

“It says there’s absolutely nothing of interest on the planet.”

 

“Figures. So, let me get this straight. You now have two starships in orbit of this planet. One or both having gone into it blindly. And I am further assuming that you haven’t had contact with either, am I correct?”

 

Sprint nodded and K’Vorlag continued. “I would therefore also assume that you’re not entirely sure you can trust your superiors with this?”

 

Biting his lip, Sprint finally nodded to that as well. “It’s just...”

 

“No need to explain yourself,” K’Vorlag said. “I have my own concerns about the Admiral.”

 

Sprint shifted uncomfortably in the already uncomfortable chair. “It just... just damned irregular.”

 

“Mmm,” K’Vorlag said with a nod. “So what can I do to help you then?”

 

“Roughly 15 minutes ago, we experienced a malfunction in our cryptographic subroutines while sending encoded information. From my understanding you have a Bird of Prey, the IKS GaHau in the Isetian Cluster...”

 

“Very clever Mister Sprint,” K’Vorlag said with a grin. “I’ll let them know, and direct them to proceed to the Domaria system.”

 

“There is of course the matter of...”

 

“If anyone asks,” K’Vorlag said. “I will personally tell your Admiral, that they noticed a Federation ship in a sector we believed to have been quarantined and went to lend assistance.

 

“Are you planning on telling him about this?”

 

Sprint looked away for a moment. “I don’t report to him directly, but I will tell the Captain that the Excalibur hasn’t checked in.”

 

“A good idea,” the Klingon said. “They’ve gone to an awful lot of trouble to keep this mission under the table...”

 

“So what is on this planet?”

 

The Klingon grimaced.

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