“I have asked the Starfleet Commander-In-Chief, Admiral Quinzeros, what he will require to meet the mounting aggression on Asuka III. He has told me and I as well as the Federation Council are determined to meet his needs.
I have today ordered to Asuka III eight Marine Expeditionary units and other Starfleet forces which will bring our fighting strength to approximately 24,000 with additional forces required in the second stage of Operation Starlight.
In order to fully meet Starfleet requirements and limit our own casualties, I have approved a plan that will make available certain highly-advanced and entirely artificial fighting units to be deployed alongside our Starfleet and Marine troops.
I am confident that this task force, along with our Nyuchiban allies will successfully identify and eliminate the belligerent elements based on Asuka III within a swift and realistic time frame which will minimize Starfleet and allied casualties, civilian and military, alike.
My fellow Federation citizens. We send today a strong message to everyone in the galaxy with plans or ambitions to hurt or attack us in any way or form. We send a message that we will not tolerate unprovoked attacks and terror perpetrate on our soil or against our allies.
As your President I make to you this solemn pledge: Those responsible for the cowardly attack on San Francisco will be found and brought to justice. After today there will be no place left in the galaxy safe to hide.”
“Hit me again.”
But the barkeeper didn’t seem to be paying attention to her. Instead, like everyone else in the bar he seemed to be glued to the large monitor which carried the live feed from Paris.
Mech wasn’t watching. She didn’t have to. It was running through her internal enhancer at the same time and truth be told, she had already expected something like this.
It had been the talk of town, the entire planet really, ever since Fed Plaza had come down. People were angry and wanted somebody to pay for what had been allowed to happen at the very center of the Federation were most had considered themselves to be entirely safe from such unspeakable things as terrorist attacks.
She had seen this kind of thing before on Nyuchiba and how citizens with high ideals and supposedly moralistic values suddenly turned into warmongering hawks out of fear and anger.
What she hadn’t expected and what even the president had tried to gloss over was the way Starfleet would fight this battle. She doubted many of the people in the bar had taken notice but Mech understood perhaps better than anyone else what this meant. This would be an entirely different kind of war.
And yet, revolution or not, war or otherwise, all she wanted was another shot of tequila.
“Hey barkeep, you’ve got a thirsty customer over here,” she barked at the man behind the counter.
He hesitantly turned away from the screen and looked at Mech and then the row of a dozen or so empty shot glasses littering the counter in front of her. “I think, perhaps you’ve had enough, senorita.”
She looked him square in the eye. “Do I look like I’ve had enough? Tell me, do I appear in the least bit inebriated to you? Because if I do, by all means cut me off from the supply. But I’m not feeling anything here, not even the slightest buzz which leads me to believe that either your so-called liquor is nowhere near as potent as you have claimed or that I haven’t consumed nearly enough of it.”
The bartender frowned and then got out another bottle of tequila. “There is no question to the potency of my liquor,” he said, sounding at least slightly offended. “In fact this stuff has been outlawed in the majority of the Federation.”
She shot him a smile. “That’s why I come here.”
The Mexican barkeeper purred the clear liquid into another shot glass. “You want to know what I think, senorita?” he said, “I’m starting to think you are a fenómena de la naturaleza on who El Fuego del Diablo has no effect.”
Mech took the glass and downed the hot liquid in one gulp. “I assure you, naturaleza has little to do with it,” she said as she placed the glass back onto the counter but never taking her fingers off of it. The implication obvious.
The bartender smiled. “I admit, you are about the prettiest fenómena ever to come through my doors,” he said and refilled her glass.
“Careful now,” she said before she downed another shot. “Wouldn’t want to be seduced by the devil now, would you?”
“In your case, senorita, I may make an exemption even for el diablo.”
“You keep those shots coming and perhaps you get your wish,” she said with a mischievous smile.
“The senorita has had enough.”
The bartender turned to find a short, elderly gentlemen of seemingly South Asian descent walking up to the counter with the assistance of an elaborate ivory topped cane.
“What is it to you, vejestorio?
The man flashed a badge.
The bartender quickly removed the bottle of the illegal beverage and nodded. “I think you may be correct, senior,” he said and shot his thirsty customer an apologetic shrug before beating a retreat.
“You realize you have no jurisdiction here,” she said without making eye contact with Tessho Masamune as he sat on the bar stool next to her.
“I do,” he said. “But I doubt he did.”
“You hear the news?”
The MSD chief nodded. “Hard to miss,” he said and glanced at the large monitor on which the president was just finishing up with his speech which committed the Federation to a war within the Nyuchiba Confederacy. A place which had been home to both of them once.
“Can’t say I’m surprised.”
Masamune reached over to snag away the last filled shot-glass in front of Mech and then without hesitation, brought it to his lips and emptied it.
She shot him a surprised look.
“Ah,” he said. “El Fuego del Diablo. Burns in all the right places.”
“Chief, what are you doing here?”
“I think this is one of the last places on Earth where you can get your hands on this stuff,” he said and forcefully brought the glass back onto the counter.
She shook her head. “That’s why I’m here,” she said. “Why are you?”
He stood and gestured towards a corner booth and away from the handful of patrons who were mostly assembled close to the monitor broadcasting the president’s speech.
The LT got up and followed him into the booth, sitting across from Masamune.
“You understand that you were not supposed to leave the city,” he said.
She raised her hand to show him her wrist. “They put a sub-dermal transponder under my skin which I’m sure is what you traced to find me here. If I wanted to escape do you really think I wouldn’t have been able to get rid of it?”
He shook his head. “No. I know for a fact you could have done that.”
“So, you’ve come to bring me back?”
“I’ve come to tell you that the DA is not pressing charges. The Grayson Institute, what’s left of it without Grayson that is, has decided to play this whole thing quietly. They don’t want to draw any attention to the fact that their esteemed leader has been missing and replaced by an android.”
“It seems to me you didn’t have to come in person to tell me that.”
“You’re right,” he said. “But I wanted to give you this.” He looked around for a moment to make sure nobody was paying them any undue attention and then reached into his coat to reveal a black and silver handgun. He placed it on the table in front of her.
The Glock looked badly scratched but otherwise appeared to be in tact.
“They found it during the clean-up at the Fed Plaza site. I was surprised it didn’t get incinerated in the blast. I know it has sentimental value to you. Not sure how a gun can do that though.”
She picked up the weapon, racked it, ejected the empty magazine and then slid it back into place.
“I had it cleaned up as best as possible but you may want to check it out some more before you start shooting it again.”
She nodded with appreciation and the tucked it away. “Thanks.”
“Now, do you want to tell me why you are hiding yourself away in a dive bar in Mexico, consuming an unnatural amount of illegal alcohol which we both know has absolutely no affect on you?”
She considered this for a moment, letting her gaze wander across the dingy establishment. “Do you know what Gavin asked me after I shifted bodies?”
He shook his head.
The LT looked him straight in the eye. “He asked if my soul had been transferred as well.”
“You can’t blame them for being surprised by what you’ve done. It may not have been the first ever consciousness transfer but it certainly is not something people are used to. Even I haven’t come completely to grips with the idea and I knew about the possibility before hand.”
“That’s not my point,” she said. “He talked about my soul, Tessho. How do I even know I still have one?”
Masamune took a deep breath. “Is that what you’ve been doing. Trying to reassert your humanity by attempting to get drunk?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Trying to feel something, I suppose.”
“You know it doesn’t work like that. Not for you. You couldn’t intoxicate yourself as much as you could try to draw blood from this body of yours. I understand what you are going through, I really do. But what makes you human isn’t your body or even your brain. And your soul? That’s far too much of a metaphysical concept for us to tackle in a rundown Mexican bar at the end of happy hour. Do you want to know what makes you human, Mech? It’s your thoughts and your actions. It’s what you do and why you do it. It’s your concern for your fellow man and your dedication to protect them from harm even if it means putting your own existence on the line. Just like when you did when you bought your team and those hostages precious seconds to get out of Fed Plaza in time. That’s what makes you human.”
She smirked at that. “I guess I’ve been wasting a lot of perfectly good booze then, huh?”
“There are some people here who may appreciate it more.”
The doors to the bar opened and Mech turned to see the rest of her team enter. Gavin, Tank, Bobbie, Sylvester, Hot Rod, Eldex and even Jackson Slade.
She shot Masamune a puzzled look. “What’s going on?”
“We want you to come back,” he said. “Now that you’ve been cleared of all charges there is no point in hiding yourself away anymore.”
Mech shook her head. “I told you when we first started that this was going to be a temporary gig for me.”
“I remember. But let me ask you this? You are out here, all by yourself, doubting your own humanity and trying in vain to drink yourself under the table. Do you really think you’d be better off on your own? Or don’t you agree that perhaps being surrounded by people who can reaffirm that you have a true and important purpose in life would be the better choice for you at this juncture?”
She looked unconvinced.
“And from what we’ve established, the person behind everything that has happened over the last few days and who has been trying to have you eliminated is still out there, still planning and scheming to purposes unknown to us. What we do know is that Helcon remains a dangerous threat to you and to possibly the entire Federation as well.”
“Even more reason not to put anyone else in danger as I go after him,” she said.
He nodded. “Sure, I supposed it would be safer that way. But think of this. Helcon knows of you, has been targeting you all this time. Which seems to imply that he is ready for you. He is not prepared for the entire resources of CCiD coming after him.”
She thought about that for a moment.
“Hey LT,” Tank shouted at her from across the bar. “What’s good here?”
Mech turned to face him. “Try El Fuego del Diablo,” she responded. “But make sure to keep Bobbie away from it. I think she may be too young to get her stomach pumped for alcohol poisoning.”
Case shot the woman a petulant look.
“Come on, barkeep, you heard the lady,” barked Tank. “Bring out the good stuff.”
But the man behind the counter seemed hesitant now that he knew that he had the law in his establishment.
“I better go and see to the team before somebody starts a brawl because they can’t get their hands on hard liquor. Last thing we need is to get in hot water with the local authorities,” she said and then stood and headed towards the bar.
Masamune knew he had his answer.