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047 “ “No Time To Lose Your Head.”


Not wanting to play second fiddle to Starfleet again, Mech had decided to move quickly. Bobbie Case has already confirmed, after further analysis of the data chip Mech had retrieved from Mister Black’s destroyed body, that he had indeed visited the Pyramid at 600 Montgomery a number of times over the last few months and even better, she had been able to pinpoint his movements to the very floor which occupied the Grayson Institute.

It was enough for a search warrant.

“This has been a long time coming,” said Tank as he along with Mech, Gavin, Jackson and two uniformed MSD agents stepped into the elevator on the ground floor.

“Considering your history with this place it may be a good idea to let me do the talking,” said Jackson.

“History?” he shot back with disbelief. “Last time I got here I had the man on the ropes. Had you not interfered, we may have nabbed Mister Black then and avoided this entire mess.”

“We had no evidence linking those two to each other and ““

“We had all the evidence we needed to nail that bastard.”

“I don’t know what kind of fantasy world you live in but ““

Mech raised her hand, stopping Jackson Slade from infuriating Tank any further. Not that he wasn’t already beside himself with anger at the insinuation. “Gentlemen, let’s continue this another time, shall we?”

The two men glared at each other but then hesitantly showed their consent by nodding their heads slightly.

“I still think it be better if I talk to him,” said Jackson. “Grayson is still an influential person in this city and all we have is a search warrant, nothing against him personally.”

“You do the talking, I toss the place,” Tank said.

Gavin shot the LT an apologetic look, letting her know that he was well aware of the two agent’s combative attitude towards each other and that there was little anyone could do about it.

She smirked at that and the team spend the next ten seconds listening to the god-awful elevator music in silence.

Tank was the first man out as soon as the doors parted. “You know he’s got that tune playing in there on purpose,” he growled. “It’s psychological torture. For that alone he should be thrown in jail.”

The row of six seemingly identical receptionists dressed in identical uniforms immediately raised their heads upon sensing the new arrivals. “Welcome to the Grayson Institute of Learning and Enlightenment,” said the first receptionist. “You have made the first step on your journey for truth,” said the second one in the exact same voice. “Would you like to sign-up for one of our complimentary exploratory lectures?” said the third.

“Can it ladies, we’ve got a search warrant for this dump and we ain’t leaving until we found what we’re looking for,” Tank barked at them.

The receptionists dropped their smiles in favor of confused expressions, first looking at each other than back up at the MSD agents. “How may we be of assistance?” they asked with that smile again.

“I’ll take care of this,” said Gavin and then produced the padd with the official court order document.

“Grayson’s office is this way,” said Tank and led the rest of the team down an elaborately decorated corridor. He found the two large wooden doors with the matching set of polished golden handles with little difficulty but before he could reach out for them, Slade pushed past him.

“As agreed, I do the talking,” he said and then knocked at the door.

Tank rolled his eyes. “Why not give him a chance to hide all the evidence while you’re at it?”

But the doors opened within seconds, swinging inwards and allowing the team to enter the spacious corner office overlooking downtown San Francisco and a gaping hole just a few blocks down the road where the imposing Fed Plaza had once stood. The remains were not visible from this angle but the haze surrounding the side gave proof that they were still smoldering.

Michael Gary Grayson sat behind his expensive desk and quickly stood when he noticed the law enforcement officers enter his office. “Lady. Gentlemen. Welcome to the Grayson Institute. How may I be of assistance?” he said with an inviting smile.

“Game’s up, buddy,” Tanks said straight away. “We’ve got a search warrant to toss this place and whatever we find will be used against you.”

Jackson Slade shot the huge agent a withering look of which he took no notice before focusing on Grayson. “My colleague is quite correct, I’m afraid. We have reason to believe that you have been in contact with a criminal element linked to the illegal stims trade in this city and the destruction of Fed Plaza last night.”

“I have nothing to hide. Please go ahead and carry out your search,” he said, putting his arms far apart and keeping that same smile plastered on his face.

“Like we need your permission,” Tank mumbled and went to work, inelegantly dismantling a nearby leather sofa and carelessly throwing the cushions on the floor.

Gavin joined his team members and then helped Tank and the two officers search the office, doing so much more carefully then Tank.

“Would you like to step outside while we search your office, sir?” said Slade.

The man shook his head but refused to let go of that now irritating smile. “I prefer to stay right here so that I may assist you as needed.”

Tank grunted upon overhearing that but suppressed another comment.

Grayson, dressed in his smart business suit, turned his attention to the LT who had remained by the door, watching the man carefully but otherwise not making a single move. “You must be Mech. I have heard much about you but we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting until now.”

“That is not correct,” she said.

“I beg your pardon?” He said, still smiling.

“We have met before.”

“Is that so? I would really rather think that I would recall meeting such and extraordinary individual as yourself.”

“Perhaps that is because you went under a different name then,” she said.

“I’m afraid I do not know what you are referring to.”

“You used the name Helcon.”

At that the other CCiD agents stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Mech and then Grayson.

“I’m not familiar with that name,” he said after a very short pause.

“What if I told you that I have reconsidered your offer?”

“What offer?” Tank asked, clearly confused as to where Mech was taking this conversation. The others were clearly not following either.

Grayson’s smile wavered.

In one fluid and uninterrupted motion that she had long since perfected, she freed her weapon form the holder attached sideways to the small of her back, brought it up and aimed it straight at Grayson’s head with two hands.

“Mech?” Tank asked, not understanding what had prompted this sudden action.

The others also drew their guns but pointing them at Mech instead, after she had clearly drawn down on an unarmed Grayson, seemingly entirely unprovoked.

“I don’t know what’s going one here,” said Slade. “But I need you to lower your weapon. Now.”

She didn’t comply. Instead she kept her steely gaze and her gun pointed at Grayson’s head who in turn simply smiled at her as if this was all extremely hilarious.

“Mech, what are you doing?” asked Tank who ultimately felt compelled to draw his weapon as well and then very hesitantly aimed at her. “Please, talk to us.”

But she didn’t.

“I’m giving you exactly three seconds to lower your weapon or we will take you down,” said Jackson, his voice firm as steel as if he had always known that sooner or later this woman might snap. A possibility which had become even more worrisome since surviving a skyscraper collapsing on top of her by transferring her consciousness into a new body.

“Mech, please, just lower your gun and let’s talk about this,” Tank implored but didn’t miss the fact she was paying no attention to the five men who had their guns trained on her now. Her only focus was Grayson, who simply returned her intense look but keeping just as mum as she did.

“Three,” Slade began. “Two.” He took a small step towards her, possibly hoping to be able to get to her gun and disarm her that way. “On-“

Mech fired twice, hitting Grayson between the eyes and in the forehead and forcing his body to jerk backwards suddenly and hit the large glass panes of the window which cracked noticeably before collapsing into a heap.

Gavin and the others were too shocked to open fire and Mech didn’t give them much of a chance.

She immediately raised her hands into the air, demonstrating that she had no intentions of shooting the gun again.

“My God,” Gavin said with utter disbelief and then quickly headed towards were Grayson had been cut down.

Slade needed a moment himself to collect himself but once he had he stepped up to Mech who offered no resistance while he removed her gun. He made sure to keep his own weapon trained on her and have the uniformed officers provide cover, knowing full well of her skills.

Gavin didn’t need long to realize that something was very wrong about Grayson’s lifeless body. For the fact that he had taken two 9mm duranium slugs right into the front of his cranium from just a few meters away, there was a suspicious lack of blood. In fact he couldn’t find a single drop. Instead the wounds were pouring out a slimy white substance. Gavin had seen this before.

He stood and looked at the others. “He’s an android,” he said, hardly believing his own words.

“What?” Tank said and then quickly joined him to confirm this seemingly crazy theory. “I’ll be damned,” he said when the evidence became undeniable. Then his lips curled up into a smile as he made eye contact with Mech who still had her hands up and was being held at bay by three guns pointed at her. “You figured it out, didn’t you?”

She gave him that sweet smile of hers but didn’t say anything else.

“It doesn’t change anything,” said Jackson Slade and then looked at the LT. “You are under arrest.”


*
*
*


Tessier read through the padd a second time just to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. Re-reading the document did nothing to lessens the frown edged on her face.

“I’m surprised, Admiral, I would have expected greater enthusiasm from you considering your stance in this matter,” Sill said with his typical smile.

The Starfleet flag officer looked up from the padd and aimed a dark look towards the Bolian presidential counsel. “I don’t know what you think of me, Mister Sill, but I am not a warmonger. Was I furious that these bastards blew up the Tripoli killing hundreds of Starfleet officers? You bet. Am I enraged that they struck our home soil and took down Fed Plaza? Of course. That doesn’t mean that I’m looking forward to committing Starfleet to an operation that is bound to cost us a great many lives.”

“Nobody here is implying that you were hoping for this outcome, Admiral,” President Kentil’aa said from behind his desk.

“Of course not,” said Tessier, trying hard to keep her tone free of sarcasm and then stood from her chair. “For what it is worth, sir, I agree that this is our best option for now. Of course I will have to review the details with Quinerzos and Intelligence but from the reports I have read so far, I do not doubt the Nyuchiban estimates.”

“The President and I agree that it is essential that we do not delay our response. The Council has already given its full approval of these actions,” Sill said.

The Starfleet admiral gave the counsel a surprised look. It wasn’t like the Federation Council to move quickly on anything. In her experience it was usually a slow and sluggish administrative behemoth that needed weeks, if not months to make a final decision on anything.

“We were astonished as you are, Admiral,” Sill added with a smirk. “The motion passed this morning 142 to 12. The Council is clearly bowing to public pressure on this one.”

“I would hate the idea that we are committing ourselves onto this course because it’s what the public wants us to do,” Tessier said.

“I understand your hesitation, Admiral, but rest assured that we have debated this issue at great length and come to the conclusion that this action is, indeed, in the best interest of the Federation and its allies,” said the president slowly. If he resented the implication that he was rushing them into war, he didn’t show it.

Tessier nodded respectfully. The irony of this situation wasn’t completely lost on her. Only a few days earlier she had stood in this very office, trying to convince the leader of the Federation that their best option on Asuka III was a military intervention. Now it was the President and his advisor, as well as the Council itself, who were proposing the very thing they had been so vehemently against. And it was Tessier who appeared to be the one requiring convincing.

Things had suddenly moved much too fast for the young and usually ambitious admiral. It wasn’t that she was entirely opposed to a strong response to recent events but the dust in San Francisco hadn’t even settled yet. And whenever she closed her eyes she could still see that massive tower come tumbling down while she had been helpless to stop.

She had seen many Starfleet ships and facilities destroyed by the enemy in her career and it had always been a painful experience. But somehow the destruction of Fed Plaza had hit a different nerve all together. Similarly to the cowardly Breen attack on Earth during the War, they had targeted their home soil. And while the body count was nowhere as high as it had been in the previous attack, this one felt much more like a sucker punch. An attack not just on Starfleet and its people but on the entire Federation by an unseen and mostly unknown enemy.

It had been a wake-up call for billions of Federation citizens who suddenly feared that no place in the galaxy remained safe from unprovoked terrorist attacks. The Federation had been whipped into a frenzy overnight.

In her experience it was never a good idea to make decisions while riding the emotional highs of anger and hysteria.

“Now this bring us to the more practical issue of implementation,” said Sill. “We are all aware that Starfleet is still recuperating from their wartimes losses and nowhere near ready to mount an operation of this scale within the timeframe that we have in mind. We have discussed other possibilities such as bringing in other allies such as the Klingons. Ultimately we felt that to be problematic considering the limited control we may exert on such a force.”

Not to mention that it be a PR nightmare, Tessier thought. Newsfeed images of blood-lusty Klingons wantonly slaughtering every target of opportunity would be all we need.

“We have even considered using mercenary forces on Asuka III operating under direct Starfleet authority. However that option would require us to expend a great amount of resources which we simply cannot afford,” the Bolian continued.

And seeing how using mercenary forces and the FWA got us into this mess in the first place.

“Which really only leaves us our original option of utilizing Starfleet to pacify Asuka III.”

Tessier glanced at her padd again. “The Nyuchibans report suggests that at least three hundred eighty thousand troops would be required to completely pacify the planet and stop the spread of violence within the confederacy,” she said and looked up. “That’s not to far off my initial estimates of four hundred fifty thousand troops,” she added and then shook her head. “But either way, we simply don’t have that many men to spare. Combat-trained or otherwise.”

She found both the president and Trelu-Chi Sill looking at her expectantly and she had an inkling as to why that was.

“Are there any suggestions you could bring to us that would allow Starfleet to commit the level of troops required for this operation?” Sill asked.

Admiral Selina Tessier was weary of political games and she couldn’t help wonder if they were recording this conversation just so that they could pull it out of their back pocket if things went horribly wrong somewhere down the line. She knew exactly what they wanted. After all she had made that proposal not a week earlier in this very office only to be shot down at the time. But they wanted her to bring it to them. Again.

“Mister President,” she said as formally as she could. “I may have a suggestion.”


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