Gavin Thorgood secretly wished that they had taken more time to clean out the SAFVe or used an alternative means of transportation. As it stood he felt it still smelt too much of the blood and sweat of the dozen hostages who had been cramped inside the day before after they had been rescued from the doomed Fed Plaza.
He also wouldn’t have minded a day off after the harrowing events which had culminated in the total destruction of North America’s tallest structure.
Time was of the essence however and so Masamune had tasked his team to tie-up loose ends quickly and before anybody had a chance to make them disappear.
Gavin was supposed to be focused on their mission to raid Grayson’s compound at Half Moon Bay but like the rest of the six-man CCiD team chosen for this assignment, he kept staring at Mech, impossibly sitting on the opposite bench and inspecting the new handgun she had been issued.
“I still don’t get it,” he said. “How does this ‘switch’ work exactly? You’re saying you just beamed your entire consciousness into another body?”
Mech looked up at him and smiled. “That’s not exactly how I would describe the process but essentially, yes, you could say I transferred myself into this body as soon as I realized that I wouldn’t be able to survive the blast.”
“But how is that possible? You’re a human being, aren’t you? How can you just transfer all your memories and your thoughts into another body like that?”
“It’s really all just data,” she responded.
“Data?” he said skeptically, clearly having a hard time wrapping his head around the idea. “How about your soul? Is that just data as well?”
She hesitated at that and judging from her apprehensive facial expression, Gavin immediately wished he hadn’t said that.
“Is it really necessary to start treading into the metaphysical here?” Tank intervened. “Isn’t it enough to know that the LT is back and good as ever?”
“Of course,” Gavin quickly said and then made eye contact with his team leader again. “And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that ““
“It’s alright,” she said interrupting him. “I understand that this will need some getting used to. And I’d be lying if I said that I won’t need some time myself to adjust to this … change,” she said and looked at her raised arm for a moment as if it didn’t really belong to her. “It’s not as if I’ve done something like this before. I mean, not like this. I had used my previous body for a long time and this is as much of change to me as it is to you.”
“I would think more so for you,” said Jackson who had listened in to the conversation and now shot her a quick look which Gavin couldn’t help but notice held at least a little suspicion.
She nodded. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Just so we know what to expect,” said Jackson. “Do you have any more spare bodies lying around for you to jump into?”
“Kinda insensitive here, pal,” Tank said.
But Mech simply smiled and then looked at Jackson Slade. “You mean do I have a warehouse full of bodies like Mr. Black? I wish. For now, this is the only one I have. So try to remember that if I get killed again, I may not come back next time.”
“We’re approaching the compound,” Hot Rod said form the cockpit. “But it looks as if our friends from the Presido beat us to it again.”
True enough Grayson compound overlooking the Pacific was almost entirely surrounded by Starfleet personnel and at least half a dozen shuttles. The officers within the compound appeared to be wearing hazmat suits and were concentrated around the same warehouse which Mech and Gavin had entered the previous day.
“I don’t like this,” said Tank as Hot Rod landed the SAFVe outside the compound and close to Starfleet’s command center.
“I guess the assault just got scrubbed,” said Jackson and holstered his gun.
“Don’t wanna go up against your former buddies, eh?” said Tank to which Slade responded with a glare.
The team disembarked the moment the SAFVe had touched down and a group of Starfleet officers quickly approached.
Gavin recognized the man apparently in charge as Commander Lee, the same man who had intervened during their assault on the factory on Treasure Island. “What are the chances that this is a coincidence?” he asked in a subdued tone.
“Zilch,” responded Tank as he, Gavin, Slade and Mech walked out to meet the Starfleet group.
“It is good to meet you again,” Lee said in the similarly upbeat demeanor he had displayed during their last encounter. “And I hear thanks are in order. Without your efforts the casualty rate yesterday would have been a lot higher than it was..”
“Wanna fill us in on what exactly you’re doing here?” Tank barked, forgoing the pleasantries.
“Ah yes, the man they call Tank,” he said and he looked up at the imposing MSD agent. “Always right to the point.” He turned to Mech. “I understand you lead this team now? Agent McLaren, is it?”
She nodded. “That is correct, Commander. You may call me Mech. And however indecorously, my colleague asked a valid question.”
“Certainly,” he responded. “I wouldn’t want to keep any secrets from you and your people even if you are a long way out of your jurisdiction out here.”
He let that sink in for a moment. He was correct of course.
“We have reason to believe that this area contains undetonated ordinance from the Dominion War. We have sealed off this compound while we investigate?”
“The War? Really?” Tank asked incredulously.
“Afraid so. You may remember the Breen attack on San Francisco. Turns out their aim wasn’t all that great,” he said. “Now, if I may ask, what brings you here?”
Mech responded before Gavin had the chance. “Simply following up on a lead, Commander. However it looks to me as if you have things well in hand here,” she said quickly. “We don’t want to waste your time any further. Have a good day.” And with that she turned around to head back towards the SAFVe. Tank remained for a moment longer, staring down the shorter man, before following.
But before Mech was out of earshot, she turned around once more. “If we had any further questions in regards to what you are doing here,” she said. “Who in Starfleet may we contact?”
“We are here on the orders of Captain Whren, Ms. Mech. I suggest you direct any further inquires to him.”
“I will do that. Thanks again,” she responded and then regrouped with the rest of her team just outside the CCiD shuttle craft, leaning against the closed doors.
“Whren,” said Tank. “Goddamn bastards’ got his fingerprints on everything. I think it is high-time we have a chat with that man.”
Mech shook her head. “I just tried to establish his whereabouts through FedNet. He’s just been re-assigned off Earth according to Starfleet records.”
“That was quick,” said Gavin. “He was here yesterday and he’s off gallivanting the galaxy the next day?”
“So what now?” asked Slade. “We can’t get to the compound and our best lead on who was involved with the Fed Plaza incident has been taken off the board. And I’m not buying into the Starfleet conspiracy theory by the way.”
“There’s a surprise,” said Tank.
“I agree with Jackson for now,” said Mech. “We don’t have enough evidence to suggest that anyone but Whren was involved with Mr. Black and Fed Plaza.”
“How about this Helcon person?” asked Gavin. “You mentioned you’ve come across his name a number of times and that he may be who has been after you personally for a while now.”
Mech nodded. “Whoever Helcon is, I’m more convinced then ever that he’s pulling the strings here. But we know too little about Helcon to be able to go after him. But there is somebody else in this chain of players who is inextricably involved and I think it is time we have a serious conversation with him.”
Tank smirked knowingly. “Now that’s a conversation I’m looking forward to,” he said and hoped back into the SAFVe.
*
*
“Mr. President, I want to reassure you that you have the full support of the Council on this. The Federation has been attacked in the most heinous way possible, not by going after Starfleet or a possible military target but by spreading terror on our very home soil and targeting innocent civilians. The culprits have already taken responsibility for this cowardly attack and my colleagues and I agree that they require a swift response.”
President Kentii’la looked up from his desk and at the Efrosian man on the screen. “It is good to know where the Council stands, Mister Speaker, thank you.”
Veltum Jarni dipped his chin. “Thank you, Mister President.”
And with that his image disappeared and the screen turned off, displaying various pieces of fine painted art from all over the Federation instead.
After a moment, the president looked at his advisor. The usually high-spirited Bolian had a dour expression on his face. “Do we have a choice?”
He cleared his throat. “Under normal circumstances, Mister President, I’d say you always have a choice.”
“These are not normal circumstances,” the dark-skinned president responded with an understanding nod.
“Not at all. It’s less than 24 hours after the first terrorist attack on Earth for over 200 years if we don’t count state sponsored incidents. And while San Francisco’s Municipal Safety Department may have been successful in limiting the number of casualties, Starfleet failed at preventing the destruction of Fed Plaza. An event which has been witnessed by billions of Federation citizens as it happened. It was a strong message, sir, and one not easily forgotten.”
The president looked over a padd he had been handed just hours earlier. “FNS already reports that an overwhelming 85% of Federation citizens favor an immediate military response,” he said and then looked at his chief counsel. “I don’t recall polls being available so quickly.”
“These days they are almost instantaneous, I’m afraid. It forces us to take actions, one way or the other, quickly. Any delay can be seen as a weakness.”
The commander-in-chief rubbed his temples. “Sometimes I curse the modern age.”
“There is more,” Sill said, apparently unwilling to give his boss a chance to digest the bad news he had already been provided. “The public response to Ambassador Fujiwara speech has been overwhelming just before Fed Plaza was destroyed. Now people are taking a second look and they are finding that ““
“They are finding that during the War the Federation signed a binding agreement with the Nyuchiban Confederacy that we would provide them with any kind of military assistance in return for their willingness to join our fight with the Dominion,” the president said.
The Bolian nodded. “It was a good plan back then.”
“It was a desperate plan.”
“May that as it be, going back to your original question, sir. No, we do not have a choice.”
Kentii’la nodded and did this just as his speech pattern: Slowly and deliberately.
Sill placed a padd on the large mahogany desk.
The President removed a silver stylus from its elaborately decorated holder and put his signature on the document he had been presented. With a slow and heavy sigh, he replaced the stylus and looked up at the Bolian. “Mister Sill, get Admiral Tessier in here. Starfleet is going to war.”