Ad Hok

[Dvokr chim Hok 0]

Ad Hok

Granger and Morrison

Morrison smiled. “Did you get the files I needed Ensign?”

“Yes Commander,” snorted the Ensign, “though it wasn’t easy to bypass the standard alert.” Hok considered for a moment. He dropped an isolinear chip into Morrison’s open palm. “I hope you remember this little risk I took on your behalf.”

Morrison laughed softly. “I can’t get you a promotion if that’s what you are thinking. If you need a character reference as someone dependable contact me through the official channels.”

“Contacting your office is easy, but where you are planning to go...” Hok’s question trailed off.

“Is off the grid. Yeah. I knew that as well as my father.” The commander pocketed the chip and looked at Hok. “So, how is she?”

“She’s fine sir. Taking command of her department on Challenger. In fact I had to arrange the command center there. Files were in disarray...some even on paper. I set her straight.” The communications officer grinned as his accomplishment.

“Did you? What I know of her that’s quite a feat. Well, Ensign, safe travels to you.” He nodded.

Hok quipped, “Commander,” then continued on.

Farther down the hall, MCptn Granger exited Marine Commandant Danielle Jeorsey’s office. She looked like she’d been through the ringer, and knowing Jeorsey, he pretty much knew why. The woman got into everyone’s business on the station. Nothing got past her, as far as she knew. The Commandant was the reason Morrison used an older tradition of ‘sneaker net’ rather than normal channels. Poking around the Federation archives and status reports on Coridan did not raise red flags per se, but the degree to which he needed information would.

Cass paused a minute to take a breather while she leaned against the observation windowsill and stared into the docking area. Then continued in Morrison’s direction. She seemed preoccupied and didn’t seem to be noticing much but the dirt on the floor.

Commander Morrison had seen her in the distance, but was not prepared to meet her this soon. He’d not had a coffee yet, even replicated. “The chip? Where did I put it, oh there,” he thought. He pressed forward.

“Cass?” he thought, as if he didn’t see her at a distance.

As she looked up her worn expression changed. “Commander Morrison.” Her smile was stressed, but still a smile. “Thought you’d be off-station by now, Sir.”

“No, I have been working and waiting for...I had no where to go really. Figured this station would not burn down.” He grinned, making reference to his cabin on Earth.

“I try not to burn more than one thing a year, Commander.” She seemed to relax. “You here for the duration, then?”

“They would have me yes. Commander has privileges, and they had some work for me here. I don’t think the Captain needed me on board.” She hadn’t changed, save for the meeting with Jeorsey. “Care for a coffee, they have the fifth best replicated coffee in this sector?”

“I sure could use one - fifth best or not. Could use a shot in it, too, but they tend to frown on such things when you’re on duty, so I’ll settle for coffee.”

He pulled a small flask out of his shirt pocket. “This?”

“Good to see not everything was lost in the fire,” she grinned. “Whatever’s in there works for me.” Clipping the slate she’d been holding onto her uniform belt, she stepped up beside him with a nod. “Your flask, your choice of venue.” Morrison gestured in the direction she was already headed.

They walked together for a bit. “So how was that nebula?”

“Hot,” she said. Clipped. To the point. Definitely not offering more.

Nodding, “I’d not take anything less than the Challenger in there frankly. A birdy told me you have additional duties now.”

“A birdy.” Cass paused with a knowing chuckle, one brow raised. “Seems like your birdy is pretty busy, shuttling back and forth from the station to the nebula. Wonder how it survives dodging those ion storms,” she teased. “Coffee first. Then talk.”

They sat down at the cafe, the one with the view of the ships coming in. He picked a booth with the best view. A waiter came over and...waited.

“You first Cassie.”

“Coffee. Black. High octane.” Her challenge coin slapped the table.

Morrison smiled. “House blend, black.”

A minute later two steaming coffees arrived. He reached into his shirt and pulled out the flask, handing it to her. “I’ve found out more information regarding my father.”

Cass nodded, a generous ounce from the flask changing the coffee’s rich aroma before she handed it back with a very sincere nod of thanks. “I’m assuming it’s pretty interesting,” she said, inhaling deeply before taking a sip.

“Well, there are a lot of indications he never left there,” he said, adding a bit of the flask contents. “Probably got too deep. Just made me think he may be less likely to be alive.” He shook his head. “Everything I’ve read stops short of telling the whole story. Whatever it is, it runs deep and has been for some time.”

Cass seemed to think for quite a while, alternately sipping and studying her cup. When she looked up, she kept her voice low.. “He was Intel, right? On a syndicate op.” The public place wasn’t somewhere to share details. “He must have had a handler?”

“Wish I knew.”

“Um,” she said. Her eyes wandered. “The contents of the box still got me going. They’ve been rolling around in my head ever since we left, even creep up in dreams now and again in kind of a… surrealistic way.” She sipped and studied the cup. “Like a puzzle: what does an outdated isolinear chip, an old telescope, a bunch of matches, rolled up paper, and an image of your father have in common?” Putting the cup down, she looked at him and waited.

“Well, I was able to get something off of the rolled up paper. I should have known this.” Morrison pulled out the rolled up paper and set it on the table. He then motioned the waiter once more. He brought over a lit votive candle, setting it between them.

“Something to violate the fire code...” He unrolled the paper and held it some centimeters above the flame. Words and drawings appeared. Numbers and measurements also started to emerge. “Do you see it now?”

Cass's head tilted in several directions before pulling her chair closer and leaning over the paper at an awkward angle. “Sure do. Map?”

Cass’s eyes swept the paper from top to bottom, bottom to top, left to right, right to left, then on a diagonal. “Got a translation?”

“No. He knew a few languages and I’d imagine he’d choose one not readily known. I’ll let the computer handle it later. I’m guessing this is a map of the operation he was attempting to expose. Appears to be underground. The notes probably indicate security measures.” He stopped to point out similar symbols on the paper.

Her eyes continued to skim the images, darting from one to the other. “Language… or a code,” she said. “When you load it onto the computer, give it wide analysis parameters; don’t narrow it down to a language. For all you know the boxes that look like buildings,” she pointed to several in a line without touching the delicate paper, “could be symbols, and the writing adjunct to them.”

She looked up. “Not all civilizations use phonetic writing; keep that in mind. Let the computer tell you what it is; don’t assume anything and keep the possibilities wide open.” Her focus shifted back as she considered it at various angles for another minute before she stopped and leaned back to grab her now-cold coffee.

After considering the cup, she said, “Sorry for taking over. Guess it’s become somewhat of an obsession that…” a raised finger stopped her thought, “Well, it could be part of a larger picture I’ve been working on for a while. But my point? Your father had this paper in a puzzle box rigged with a failsafe. I doubt he would have put simple notes on a paper for someone to read easily.”

“Yes, an old method of concealing this...map. Guess he figured no one but myself would get through this far. I think I have a pretty good picture what he was doing. The rest I can figure on the way. I’ve arranged a warp-capable shuttle.” Hal smiled, “I’m making a run for Coridan. I’m going to complete my father’s work.”