Disgusted Masamune turned away from the monitor only to find that most of the computer screens in the command center displayed similar broadcasts. This was the story of the year and news organizations throughout the Federation and beyond had jumped on the bandwagon, covering the event as if the fate of the Federation depended on the outcome.
“Maybe it does,” he mumbled.
The Grazerite Starfleet ensign operating the console shot him a quizzical look but Masamune ignored him entirely and instead turned to look out of the viewports to look upon the building which had captured the attention of the galaxy.
FedPlaza had been practically sealed off both from the inside and the outside. The hostages on the 74th floor held by a gang of ruthless terrorists threatening to kill the first one in just under 40 minutes. For many of those around him the situation was almost surreal. They questioned how an act so despicable could have happened right here at the center of their utopian world.
For Masamune it was nothing he had not seen before, sadly.
“Alright people, we have to take action and we have to do it now if we want any chance of saving all of these hostages.”
Masamune turned around and sighed at what he found. Around the table sat and stood a number of different officials from various agencies. The United Earth Defense Agency was represented by General Schneider, a white-haired and soft spoken gentlemen who was not used to share authority. There was Sheriff John Payton who had been first on the scene and had assumed initial command. He was the exact opposite of Schneider, boisterous and obnoxious, he had wanted “ nay, demanded “ to be given immediate command.
But no one had relented. Not the two FedSec officers dressed in indistinct black suits, only the small Federation lapel pins identifying them as Federation agents, nor Captain Whren who had since taken the initiative and stood at the head of the table.
Whren was backed up by the fact that his Starfleet officers outnumbered anybody else on scene, the vessel they currently occupied and used as a command center was a Starfleet runabout attached to their headquarters.
Masamune found that he had been slightly too well prepared for this situation.
Whren build himself up and continued to speak over the chatter that had ensued. “We have managed to establish communications with the hostage takers, as you know the leader who has failed to identify himself has not backed down from his previously issued demands.”
“We should use additional negotiators,” Payton said, cutting off the Starfleet officer. “Continue to persuade them to give us more time and release some of the hostages.”
It wasn’t a bad suggestion, Masamune thought, but he very much doubted it would work. He had heard the terrorist leader speak. The man had shown supreme confidence in his plan, he had sounded like he had given them a rehearsed speech and at no time had he appeared to deviate from it.
“Transporters remain our best option to retrieve the hostages,” one of the FedSec agents said. “We need to further investigate a way to circumvent the transporter scrambles.”
Their first attempt had been to try to beam the hostages out of FedPlaza. It had been a nearly fatal mistake. The hostage takers had not warned them that they had installed transporter scrambles throughout the super-scraper. The rescue teams had attempted to force the issue and nearly killed a few of the hostages by scattering their molecules all across the bay area.
Whren shook his head. “There is no time for that.”
“Then we have to rely on an more old-fashioned approach,” said Schneider calmly who was one of the few who had remained in his seat.
“An assault team,” agreed the FedSec man.
Masamune got the distinct impression that Whren didn’t seem to like the idea, his antennae drooped ever so slightly. Nobody else in the room seemed to notice.
Peyton nodded sharply. “I have thirty-eight armed men ready to go. If we breach now we might be able to get there before they execute their first hostage.”
“No offense, Sheriff, but your men are glorified traffic cops,” said Schneider and the look in Peyton’s eyes made clear that he had taken offense. The general continued unconcerned. “I have ordered the mobilization of eighty-five of my best people stationed at Fort Bragg. They will arrive here in less than 20 minutes.”
“Might as well be 20 hours for all the good that will do us,” said Peyton, albeit under his breath. “If we wait any longer to take action our chances to reach the hostages in time are next to zero.”
“This discussion is pointless as neither one of you has the authority to do this,” said the FedSec agent sternly.
“Then who does?” asked Whren.
The agent produced a padd and placed it on the desk. “We do,” he said and his remarkably similar looking partner nodded in agreement. “According to Federation Code 107b and Internal Security Memorandum 2341, section 8, article 26a: ‘All Federation government installations including all installations connected to the Federation government which are not associated or under the administration of another Federation agency are to be secured and protected by Federation Security’,” he declared from memory.
“And where exactly was this protection when these lunatics took over FedPlaza?” roared Payton.
“Maybe I should ask how you allowed a group of heavily armed terrorists to enter your city undetected, Sheriff?“
“How dare you accuse me of ““
Whren interrupted the two quarreling men. “Gentlemen, there seems little point in playing the blame game now. I’m certain we will have plenty of time for that when this is all over,” he said and then turned to the man in the dark suit. “You may have jurisdiction here but how practical is this going to be? All your people on Earth will be busy protecting the government, now more so than ever. Your headquarters are all the way at Alpha Centauri, it will take hours for any of your special forces to get to Earth.”
Apparently the agent had to concede that point.
“Then we need to make do with what we have,” said Payton again. “My men might not be numerous but they are well trained and well armed.” He turned to look at the short old man who as yet had not taken part in this conversation. “Mister Masamune, you have been rather quiet. Surely you agree with me. If your people were to join forces with mine we would have substantial numbers and could strike quickly.”
Everybody turned to Masamune.
The MSD chief gripped his cane tighter and took a step towards the table. “I agree that action needs to be taken but we should not act rashly.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed we do not have the time to analyze this situation endlessly,” the FedSec agent said. “We have about 37 minutes until the first hostage will be killed.”
Masamune nodded slowly, making it clear that he understood perfectly the limited time frame. “We might have to accept certain losses in this situation,” he said calmly.
This caused much uproar amongst the assembled people who were astonished to hear such talk from the law enforcement chief. They spoke over each other, nobody listening to anyone else but everyone making their displeasure known.
Masamune used his cane to rap against the floor loudly. “Gentlemen, please,” he said and the room began to fall silent again. “It should be obvious to all of you by now that we are not dealing with common criminals here. These people have planned this act quite meticulously and have anticipated everything that has happened so far. They are also fully aware that Paris will make no decisions within an hour. Gentlemen, I propose that these terrorists fully expect us to take hasty actions such as have been proposed here.”
“Assuming you are right, what do you suggest we do?” asked General Schneider.
Masamune gave the white-haired general a nod of appreciation for his calmly formulated question. “You, as a military man should appreciate the fact that no operation should ever be carried out without as much reliable information about the situation as can be ascertained.”
Payton took the bait. “But we have no information about these people.”
“Not yet, Sheriff. But I have operatives already inside the building doing their best to change that fact.”
This caused another round of surprised interruptions.
“Are you in contact with your people?” asked the FedSec agent.
To that Masamune had to shake his head. “Not at the moment but we are trying to resolve this as well.”
“I don’t see how that changes anything then,” said Whren. Masamune couldn’t be sure but it appeared to him that the Andorian Starfleet officer didn’t appreciate that Masamune had moved into the spotlight. “In fact, to be quite honest, I’m not entirely comfortable with you being part of this operation in the first place,” said Whren with accusing eyes.
Masamune was not surprised. “And why is that, Captain?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” said Whren but quickly found that it was not, as everyone in the room except for him and Masamune appeared startled. “These terrorist have declared themselves to be Nyuchiban in origin. You yourself are Nyuchiban, are you not? This is a classic conflict of interest. And while I’m being blunt, I have yet to be convinced of where your allegiances lie. Are you even a Federation citizen? Is the team leader of your special forces unit?”
Masamune simply stared back at the Andorian while everybody else in the room remained quite. The chief didn’t bother to explain to this man that he had been born right here in San Francisco. He also didn’t bother to tell him that yes, he had spend a large amount of his life in the Nyuchiba Sprawl were as the senior official of the local law enforcement unit he had overseen dozens of similar hostage situations. It didn’t really matter because Masamune understood that Whren was not really after the truth. The Starfleet captain wanted him out of the picture.
In the end he did not have to defend himself however.
The Starfleet officers in the room jumped from their stations to stand at attention.
“Admiral on deck!”
Whren went rigid himself.
Selina Tessier strode purposefully into the command center. Her diminutive stature taking nothing away from her commanding presence.
Unimpressed the other men at the table hardly even acknowledged her presence. To them she was merely another Starfleet officer.
“As you were,” she said casually and the troops relaxed. “There is no need to question Mister Masamune’s loyalties. I’ve known him for many years and he is a lot of things but he certainly is not a traitor,” she said and fixed the old man with a hard stare.
Everyone in the room noticed that there was no love lost between the two but there was something more. Respect for each other, perhaps even more than that.
Whren made an effort to hide his annoyance of his superior officer undercutting his argument. He was too loyal to show such blatant disrespect.
Masamune did not appreciate the gesture either. He did not need anyone to come to his rescue.
The admiral walked up to the viewport and then turned to face the entire room. “Actions need to be taken,” she said and gestured towards the screens to her side which were still showing the uninterrupted coverage of the unfolding crisis. “The galaxy has its eyes upon us and we will not send a message of complacency and inaction. Make no mistake. Today the Federation has been attacked and as such we will respond. It will be made unmistakably clear that we will not tolerate terrorism on our soil.”
“Starfleet is not in charge here,” the FedSec agent protested.
Tessier smiled at the man but there was nothing sweet about it. “We’ll see about that.”