Strategic Recall

[Chirakis 1]

Strategic Recall

Part Two

 

Built on the site of an abandoned science outpost, Intel’s latest Forward Operating Base was expansive but purely utilitarian. From orbit, visually and on passive scan, it was an abandoned outpost. On closer inspection the faintest sign of a security field might be detected - if you were really looking and good enough to catch it.

 

Only a few heads turned as Chirakis entered command central, tucking her helmet under one arm to strip off her gloves. She tossed her helmet on a convenient chair as she cut towards Director Torak, waiting expectantly at the sector’s tactical pool table, apprehension deepening furrows in his brow.

 

“I estimate a colony of a thousand, give or take,” she said, immediately slipping a datacrystal into a receptacle on the side of the table to continue a conversation they had begun while she was en route. She braced herself against the support rim, ready to direct the data to appropriate areas.

 

“Mostly male. Sensors showed several female in male attire.” She glanced towards Torak. “Clearly warriors. Abnormal for the Tjurakh. No survivors.”

 

A slight hiss came from behind as Resssk approached. “The Tjurakh sssequessster their femalesss,” he said as he took his place next to Kirel, his tail drumming a Gorn herd alert on the floor. Its reverberation ripped through the command center until a sharp look from Torak stilled it. “For them to train a female asss a warrior isss forbidden by their khannah.” A clack of his mandibles replaced the tail thud as Resssk turned his attention to the board.

 

The table’s reconfiguration complete, Kirel’s data displayed as orange - raw, uncorroborated information. Elsewhere, green, blue, red, and yellow icons showed friendly, neutral, hostile, and questionable contacts sector-wide, some stationary and some changing position periodically.

 

The board’s glow played on the director’s dark Vulcan/South African features as he leaned over it, his eyes darting from side to side in study. He gave a frowning grunt.

 

“Go on.”

 

Chirakis tapped one section, splitting the screen to display Drakkor’s visual record and preliminary analysis. “Pebble to fine powder talus, three craters total, all appeared to be areas of habitation. Advanced energy weapons. Possible disruptors. Also...” she flipped the screen to atmospheric spectral analysis, “...a strange hybrid weapon, unknown origin.”

 

The visual feed cut from the crater floor to images of the blast radius, followed by those of the forest. Kirel gave a small sigh and straightened up, nodding to Lucas and T’Pak as they joined the discussion. T’Pak bore faint remnants of a prosthetic enhancement, removed when she rejoined the team from deep cover. A stubbly beard covered Sonny’s normally clean-shaven features and his hair had grown well beyond regulation. Clad in crisp, fresh BDU, he still looked worn. He slumped into a chair.

 

“Soil and debris samples have gone to the lab; we should have results soon. Trails from the area indicate differing ship configurations, most of which have been modified from their original design, all exiting on the same general vector. Estimate... five to seven ships, one sizable, possibly dreadnought class.”

 

“And the asteroids?”

 

“A poor attempt at defense,” she said, flipping the smaller section of the split-screen to show the asteroids. “Scans show small defense platforms, all inoperable. They appear to be recently installed, but that - and their origins - can only be determined by on-site inspection.”

 

The Director took another minute to study the board. Heaving a sigh, he turned to Resssk, T’Pak, and Lucas. “I want a visual team out in one hour. ETA to the planet is....” He turned to Kirel.

 

“Three days at maximum warp.”

 

“Resssk, you’re most familiar with the Tjurakh. T’Pak, I want you with him. Report position and all contacts every two hours, staggered and secure. I want as much data as possible from that area. Lucas...” he measured Sonny with his gaze. “...get some rest - you look like hell.”

 

The three gave a nod and disappeared. Torak took another look at the board, pulled the data crystal and turned to Kirel. “Commander, walk with me.”

 

=/\=

 

The permanent nature of Intel’s most recent base became obvious as Chirakis grabbed her helmet and fell in step with Torak. It made her wonder about the full nature of their mission in this sector.

 

“... given your recent find, I’m sure you realize the severity of the situation...” The director’s final words brought the team leader back to the subject at hand. “...and why we need you here.”

 

Not really. But he would fill her in. Soon, judging from his expression.

 

“The Tjurakh’s first foray out of their system looked harmless enough, almost like a testing of the waters. Like they were... spreading their wings, experimenting with a new concept called alliance, seeing how far they could take it and what they could gain from it. But their activity has escalated in the past month. And someone is supplying them with more advanced technology. Piece by piece.

 

“Yours isn’t the first out-colony we’ve found, but it’s the first one that’s been attacked. Clearly, someone’s not happy with what they’re up to... aside from the Federation and the allies.”

 

Entering a long corridor, Torak stopped to tap a wall panel. “Your quarters.”

 

It only took a moment for Kirel to configure her code, voice recognition, and retinal scan. A comfortably large lounge area greeted their entrance, with a bedroom beyond. Kirel tossed her helmet on an easy chair and grabbed a drink from the replicator while the director took a moment to stare out the window at the stark wilderness beyond the compound.

 

“Fleet is reluctant to release you.”

 

No surprise, given the nature of Starfleet in general. Fleet and Intel were always at odds. If they suddenly began working together? That would surprise her.

 

He turned to face her and crossed his arms, waiting. For her reaction?

 

After disposing of her glass she flicked the neck-strap of the flight suit and began to peel it off, the ripe stench of seven days in transit filling the room immediately. Torak choked and hit maximum on the air filtration system. Kirel suppressed a grin.

 

“There was a... heated discussion,” he said, keeping his distance. “I won. But the Tjurakh are moving farther and farther afield and closer to strategic neutral territory. They seem to have their eyes on shipping lanes. And shipyards. I wonder, now, if I made the right decision - calling you away.”

 

“You needn’t worry about Aegis and its ability to defend itself....” She tugged at one arm of the suit, then the other, and worked it towards her waist. “The Tjurakh are marauding, pilfering, hit-and-run. They’re no match for Aegis’ defenses... or those of the shipyard.” … stepped out of it, and tossed it aside.

 

Torak raised a brow.

 

“You forget who designed it.”

 

“The Reaper.”

 

She gave a curt nod as she wet a towel and ran it over her face and neck. “Tylus Petrinius Jorahl. If they can withstand the Athra they will have no problem with a few marauders. And he is very capable of taking command if the occasion should arise.”

 

“You’ve left him in command?” Old prejudices die hard.

 

“If the Ambassador has not returned by now, Lepage is in command... or Feretti if he’s not available. Both of them know the value of a good second. They’ll turn to Jorahl in a crisis, if not before.”

 

Torak gave a grunt. Not quite satisfied, but apparently letting it go for the present.

 

“Mess opens in thirty. Shower. You need it.”