“I know that in the last interstellar competition that you actually participated in, you ranked number two out of thirty thousand,” Leeta said. “I didn’t rank at all and I think you were cheated. You haven’t played since.”
“Well, I agree, I was cheated, but that isn’t why I haven’t played in a while,” Garcia admitted. “I’ve been rather busy. Attending the Academy, saving the Universe, that kind of stuff.”
“And now, here you are playing with the big boys, just like in the games,” Leeta said. “You know, Club Bliss is the perfect site to set up a dungeon and run your own contest. And the thieves guild on Loran, the second largest moon in this system, has a tournament coming up.”
“Sounds like fun, but I’m really too busy to run my own tournament, and I have enough real serious people looking to shoot me, I don’t need to have a bunch of gamers shooting at me as well,” Garcia said. He suddenly saw a conspiracy in the gaming world of Thieves and Assassins. What better way to recruit real thieves and assassins than to make it a game and the ones that won the games could be solicited for more ‘realistic’ and profitable work? No, if that were true, Garcia would probably have been contacted already, because he always ranked high in the games. Unless they hadn’t liked his psychological profile. Then again, maybe that was another reason Admiral Pressman had sought him out. “It’s good to see you have interest other than work. This work shouldn’t be the only part of your life. I can see the appeal of being a dabo girl, maybe the glamour, definitely the fun, too loud for me for a daily escape, but fun, none the less. Still, I want you to have more options in your life than just work, so that’s another reason I making education available to the employees.”
Leeta nodded, moving closer to Garcia, running a finger along the edge of the crate, as if shy to be alone with him, and so near him. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you,” Leeta said.
“You will meet lots of good people in your life,” Garcia said. “You’re too smart and happy not to attract good people. I suspect this is just a station you’re passing through.”
Leeta looked up at him, shaking her head in agreement. But she wanted more. “And attractive?” she asked.
“Extremely attracted,” Garcia said, amused by her maneuvering.
She practically beamed, inching her way closer to him. “Who are you?” she asked.
“Bond, James Bond,” Garcia said.
Leeta laughed, slapping his chest playfully, allowing her hands to linger against him, one hand touching his mandarin collar. “That explains the flashy suit. It’s got a hint of Star Fleet, but, it’s more like a band uniform.”
“Let’s keep that last observation to ourselves,” Garcia laughed, but also pleased that she understood the reference. Or had she? Maybe she was just laughing to laugh with him. “My crew hates being referred to as the Band.” Garcia received a message that the Path Finder was ready for departure. “I’ve got to leave, but you have my number, and Brock isn’t really a bad guy, just rather overly zealous about making a profit. Don’t let him push you around.”
“I can handle Brock,” Leeta said, amused. “Will I see you again, boss?”
“I hope so,” Garcia said.
“Thank you,” Leeta said.
“Welcome,” Garcia said. She stole a quick kiss, which he didn’t discourage. Then he stepped away from her, reluctantly. “Path Finder, energize.”
A site to site delivered Garcia to the Bridge. He sat down in the command chair, watching as the crew made the final preparations for a transwarp jump to Cestus Three. He wondered if he had done the right thing leaving Brock in charge. True enough, once the Gateway was functional, Garcia could check in on the place from time to time, and without warning, but he also knew the rules of acquisition well enough that he would have to watch Brock like a hawk. He was fairly sure that Leeta would keep him apprised if Brock overstepped his boundaries. She seemed to have a good head on her shoulder for just a dabo girl. As his thoughts returned to Leeta, his mind splintered into several tangents; there was the pleasant fantasy of what a relationship would be like with her, and then there was the list of reasons why he shouldn’t even entertain such thoughts. He was her boss, for starters. He ruled that out, because that rule hadn’t stopped him from mixing it up with Kitara. He appraised Kitara as she continued to mete out orders. There was also the fact that he had sufficient partners in his life and his life was already complicated enough without adding a dabo girl to his collection. He rationalized that excuse away, too. Leeta was not just a pretty dabo girl. There was something more about her, a personality quirk Garcia wanted to explore. And he was impressed that given the environment she was in she had chosen not to participate in the drugs, even the Venus drugs that would have made her irresistible given the fact that she was already damn near perfect.
But then there was the harsh realization that he had more than enough kids on the way and that he didn’t need to be making any more of them. There was no way around that one, other than getting himself ‘fixed.’ The thought of his children to be and the worry over Niki and Tama Orleans was nearly enough to squash all of his sudden interest in Leeta. Then again, he really liked Leeta and the energy she gave off. Then again, even though she wasn’t just a dabo girl, she was still a dabo girl and that energy radiating out from her, naturally or contrived, might be part of the game. No, he decided. His first read on her was correct. Leeta was sincere in her delivery of happiness, and she was willing to share that happiness with anyone. He was going to have to stop second guessing people and their motives. He tried to force himself to think of something else, but another rationalization popped into his head: he better get his plays in now, because once the children were born, he was going to be too exhausted from raising children to even think about romance or fun ever again. And then he realized that if that was his best excuse for getting together with Leeta, then his sister was right. He was a monster.
“We’ve arrived at Cestus three, Captain,” Kitara said, interrupting Garcia’s brooding. “Primary and secondary cloaks are engaged and the Tempest skin is still in play if you would like to use it.”
“Drop secondary cloak and let people see the Tempest. Hail the Gorn colony,” Garcia said. This would have to be sufficient distraction for now, he decided. Besides, his daughter and Niki’s lives depended on him finding some answers here.
The response came in a matter of moments. “I have Counsel Member Shria available to speak with you, Captain,” Trini said. “She’s part of the Hegemony Elite by birth. A few more titles here, including Ambassador to the Federation Colony at Cestus Three.”
“She’ll do,” Garcia said. “On screen.”
Shria held her tongue before speaking, taking in all she could see with her golden eyes. “Captain Tammas Parkin Garcia, if I’m not mistaken,” Shria said, the Universal translator emulating her voice by adding a raspy, hard rock edge to it. “It is true. You work side by side with the Klingons.”
“Ambassador Shria,” Garcia said. “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to speak with me.”
“Don’t waste time on politically correct semantics,” Shria said. “Why are you here? Star Fleet business? Klingon business? Who do you serve?”
“May I meet you in person?” Garcia asked.
Shria remained silent for a moment, as if considering the question. She gripped the railing of the communication platform she was standing in. She tilted her head back, baring teeth. There was a slight hiss which the computer didn’t translate.
“I see no reason why I should deny you this privilege,” Shria said. “I would be glad to entertain you. How many guests should I expect to be visiting?”
“I’ll come alone,” Garcia said.
“No you won’t,” Kitara snapped.
“Bring as many as you like, Captain Garcia, the Great,” Shria said. “I’m transmitting the coordinates. Vristel my assistant will greet you.”
Garcia bowed respectfully. The screen went off. He turned to Kitara.
“You’re not beaming down into a potential deadly situation without support,” Kitara said.
“Guess that means you’re going,” Garcia said. “Tuer, you, too. Duana and Ilona, of course.”
“Micceal is on rotation,” Kitara said.
“Finally, I get to work with one our Nausicaans,” Garcia said. He looked to Tuer. “It should improve the average look of our Away Team.”
Tuer did a double take and then appealed to Kitara: “Did he just?”
“He did,” Kitara said, smiling at the play.
“Is it against the rules to hit the X O?” Tuer asked Kitara, scowling.
“Not when he’s speaking truth,” Kitara said, adding to the friendly banter as she joined them in the Turbo lift.
“That wasn’t funny,” Tuer complained.
“You’re right, it’s just a fact,” Kitara said.
The doors closed and they went down a deck to go to the transporter room. Officers met them on arrival to hand them weapons and to help them into their armor. As they put on their gear, Tuer continued to grumble. “Besides, if you think I’m ugly, wait till we see that Nausicaan baby Garcia fathered.” Only Duana and Ilona didn’t wear the armor, as they preferred their own particular style, trench coats and miniskirts. The Nausicaan, Micceal, chimed in on Tuer’s comment, “It will be a beautiful baby, minus the human attributes it has no doubt inherited.” Kletsova took her spot at the transporter controls as the Away Team stepped up and took their places in the Transporter Alcove.
“Its bad luck to call a baby ugly,” Kletsova said.
“Not all babies are good looking,” Garcia said. “Just ask Tuer’s mama.”
Kitara smiled. “Energize,” she said.
The Away Team arrived planet side. The heat was almost stifling and Garcia wondered if they had mysteriously beamed down into the Vulcan desert. Why the Federation had wanted to settle here was beyond him, but then, perhaps the Federation Colony had better climate conditions being closer to the poles. And the Gorn, being cold blooded and all, did like it hot, so if that was the case that would explain how the property got divided equitably after the initial conflict that nearly cost Kirk and his crew their lives. A Gorn approached their landing party and made a head motion that approximated a nod. She wore a light outfit, pulled tight to her mid section with a cloth belt. The material was a mixture of gold, reds, and silver which caught the light as she moved. She wore no shoes and had no visible weapons. And this was the first female Gorn Garcia had met, not counting the holodeck versions Garcia had created for anatomy and physiology lessons, and combat practice. The female of this species was much more cunning and dangerous than the male, perhaps because they were entrusted to defend the nest and any young.
“I’m Vristel,” the Gorn said. “You’re to follow me.”
Vristel led them along the inner courtyard of a building, in through a side exit, and down a corridor. All the Gorn they passed stopped to stare.
“You must forgive them,” Vristel pleaded. “It is unusual for humans or Klingons to ever reach this deep into a Gorn city.”
“What about Nausicaan?” Micceal asked.
“We have not seen your type on this planet,” Vristel admitted.
Vristel brought them up short at a door and turned to Garcia. “Be careful, Captain. You’re in danger here,” she said in a whisper, and then pushed opened the double doors and led them inside.
Shria stood and her guards went to attention. She came around the desk, arms outstretched to greet Garcia with a hug, making an effort to kiss his cheek like a human might. To Garcia, it suggested the gangster kiss of death. She ended by taking Garcia’s arm and turning him towards his own men.
“Introduce me to your fine crew,” Shria said.
Garcia introduced his people, starting with Kitara his First Officer, Tuer, his security officer, Micceal, security, and his two personal companions, Duana and Ilona.
“Escorts?” Shria asked, indicating the last two.
“Depends on how you’re using the term,” Garcia said.
Shria nodded as if she understood something. “Why have you come here, Captain Garcia?”
Garcia removed the stone spear head from his pocket and handed it to her. “Do you recognize the symbol etched in this?”
“Wow,” Shria said, examining it. “Where did you get this?”
“Someone gave it to me. Said you might be able to help me,” Garcia said.
Shria looked to him for more. “You’re leaving stuff out,” Shria said. “This symbol represents a clan that no longer exists. The Gorn trace their lineage through the maternal side of the family. This mother’s line was removed over ten thousand years ago.”
“How is it you know so much about a line that was culled from the genetic pool so long ago?” Micceal asked.
“Micceal, be nice,” Garcia reprimanded him lightly. He then turned to Shria for the answer to that question, waiting politely for her to respond.
“There is a good story there,” Shria said, taking the stone to her desk. “The symbol, the family crest, and the family name, has been passed down for generations, through both oral and written traditions. It has taken on a life of its own. Anyone can use that symbol now to publicly represent mourning or loss. The name has become metaphor.”
“A metaphor that can also be interpreted to mean revenge?” Ilona asked.
“Someone’s been doing their homework,” Shria said, pointing the stone at her, sharp end first. She put the stone down on her desk. No one witnessed her pushing the button as she drew her hand away and turned to face Garcia. “The fact that the name is inscribed on a spear head is also symbolic. Why have you brought this to me?”
“My daughter and another child that I know have been kidnapped,” Garcia said. “The person who gave this to me said it belonged to the abductors.”
“And what would you have me do about it?” Shria asked.
“The Captain of the ship Ssscrl attacked me several weeks ago, for reasons I don’t fully understand,” Garcia said. “A lot of Gorn ships have attacked me. I want to know why. I want to know how to end this animosity between us. But most importantly, I want Tama Orleans and Niki Carter returned to me, unharmed.”
Shria made a face that revealed teeth. Whether it was a smile or a grimace was hard to tell.
“Go back to your ship, Captain,” Shria said. “You’ll find no answers here.”
“Your people attacked my ship, destroyed the USS Einstein, and you kidnapped Admiral McCoy,” Garcia said. “He was brought here to this colony against his will and you’re telling me you don’t know anything?”
“I’m not telling you I don’t know anything. I’m telling you to go back to your ship,” Shria said. “You can file a report through Star Fleet channels and petition for information.”
“As a Star Fleet Officer, I was hoping we could resolve this together, without the red tape and bureaucracy,” Garcia said.
“I’m part of the bureaucracy,” Shria said, clucking in a manner typical of Gorn frustration. “Why would I want to eliminate my function?”
“You misunderstand,” Garcia said. “If you can just tell me the name of the Captain responsible for attacking my ship…”
“No, it’s you who misunderstands,” Shria said. “Are you here conducting official Star Fleet business?”
“No, Ambassador,” Garcia said. “I’m here…”
“Then I must ask you to leave,” Shria said. “Or have you come to rein destruction down on my world, too?”
“What are you talking about?” Garcia said.
“You come here accusing my people of kidnapping and attacking you, when you butcher women and children and destroy whole planets?!” Shria said. “How many Gorn ships did you have to destroy to keep your little secret? How many more Gorn must die so that the Garcia clan can continue? Which god do you pray to when you go to sleep at night?”
“I don’t pray,” Garcia said.
“I want you off my planet,” Shria said.
“I hear that you’re angry. Help me to understand what grievance you have against me,” Garcia said. “What can I do to help resolve our issues?”
“You can die, Garcia,” Shria said. “You and all your children can die.”
A door pushed open and a Gorn, three times as tall as any Gorn Garcia had ever seen, came barging through.
Shria turned to the giant, hissing. “I said I would take care of this!” she snapped.
Apollo’s head appeared in place of the Gorn head. “You should have bowed down to me when you had the chance, Garcia” Apollo said. His head return to that of a Gorn giant and he tossed lightening at Garcia.
Across the room a replicator came to life and began manifesting small, robotic orbs capable of launching their own static discharge, almost as powerful as the lightening Apollo was tossing. One at a time the orbs launched themselves into the room, so that another orb could be created.
“Belts! And spread out!” Garcia yelled, activating his Emergency Life Belt. A force field went up around him, casting a blue aura, stifling his breathing, tickling every nerve cell on his exposed skin, but, to his relief, it diminished the effects of the lightening. Duana and Ilona stepped forwards to further reduce the amount of force being directed at their Captain. The shields also protected them from the Gorn projectile weapons, forcing the Gorn to use swords to make a kill. The Gorn soldiers in Shria’s office came charging forward, meeting Klingon and Nausicaan in their preferred form of battle while Garcia drew two, Gorn type weapons and began to unload both into Apollo. The weapons had been modified to cancel out the shield directly in front of the barrel, so that he could shoot.
Apollo staggered back, having to focus his energies on self healing and shields of his own. The Apollo Gorn cried in rage.
“Don’t do that!” Shria yelled at Garcia. “You’ll kill us all!”
Several orbs gathered around Garcia, each taking a turn to unleash their energy on him as they cycled through their energy build up before discharge. Garcia pocketed one of the Gorn weapons, retrieved his phaser and aimed at the replicator, but Apollo pointed at the phaser and its power systems went dead. While Apollo was distracted disarming Garcia, Duana and Ilona maneuvered in closer to attack, firing nearly at point blank range with their Gorn projectile weapons.
Up against his own technology, specifically Duana and Ilona, Apollo was holding his own, but he also knew if he killed Garcia, the telepathic link to the manifesting orbs would be destroyed and Duana and Ilona would disappear with them. The Gorn weapons were taking its toll on him, but he kept after Garcia.
“Kill Garcia, fools!” the Apollo Gorn yelled in Gorn.
The Gorn in the room changed their tactics, going for Garcia, instead of his Away Team. Garcia was forced to shoot a Gorn soldier in the head, the very moment after he had reloaded his Gorn weapon. Another static discharge occurred and Garcia jumped up and grabbed the orb. It held its position strong enough that he was able to lift his feet up and swing, jumping closer to the replicator. He unleashed his entire clip of ammo into the replicator, destroying it and causing the last orb to be replicated to explode. He rolled out of the way of an attacking Gorn, discharging the clip from his weapon. He came up, reloaded, and fired at the orbs that were following him like a swarm of wasps. Unprotected by life belt shields, the Gorn were taking on minor wounds from the exploding orbs. Shria ran to her communication platform to summon more help.
Out the Window and across the courtyard, Garcia saw the flashing of lights in mirroring offices and noted that every replicator he could see was manifesting robotic orbs. He bolted for the door and saw the first wave of orbs approaching. He shot at the orbs, hitting one, and the resulting explosion took out a hand full of them, going down the line of orbs like falling dominoes, but it didn’t get all of them. The ones that survived kept coming and more were being created every minute. Garcia shut the door and bolted it. He hit his communicator badge.
“Trini!” Garcia called, shooting several Gorn in the knee caps to drop them. “Emergency beam out. Lock onto the Away Team and energize.”
“Sorry, Captain,” Trini responded. “Our shields are up.”
“Damn it!” Garcia yelled, taking time to reload, ducking a sword that clang against the door behind him. His shield would not prevent a sword from penetrating him. It only blocked most types of energetic weapons, and projectiles which the belt’s computer assumed were micro meteorites, as well as solar and magnetic forms of radiation. Its primary function was to allow people to survive a short time in a vacuum without a space suit. Garcia shot the offending Gorn in the arm and then the leg. “Get my team out of here!”
The door burst open, splintering around the lock mechanism. Several more Gorn entered, each carrying a phaser, and a swarm of robotic orbs swept into the room. Several dozen unleashed their static energy at one time onto Garcia, driving him to the floor in pain. He fired up at them and the resulting explosion was blinding and deafening. The latest Gorn to enter the battle were killed instantly, as they were in the midst of the greatest concentration of orbs. Garcia grabbed up one of the phasers that had been dropped. He aimed it at the ceiling and shot at the chandelier which fell directly on top of the giant Apollo Gorn. Garcia rushed Apollo, dropping the phaser and drawing his sword out, ignoring the constant tagging of static discharge from the remaining orbs. He brought it down in a clear arc to sever the Apollo’s head from his body, but Apollo blocked, using the chandelier. He threw the décor aimlessly, pinning Vristel in the process, as he turned to Garcia with anger, the threat of death glowing in his golden eyes. A sword appeared in the Apollo Gorn’s hands. Outside the large windows of Shria’s office daylight was obscured by a cloud of robotic orbs that moved against the windows like fish in a tank, as if they might break through and get at the aquarium owner.
“So, you want to play swords,” Apollo said in Gorn and swung.
Sword met sword, and Apollo’s mass drove Garcia back. Their swords glowed with the static energy being discharged from the robotic orbs. Ilona and Duana reloaded their weapons and fired point blank into the Apollo Gorn. Apollo staggered and fell back, dropping his sword. He clapped his hands to stir up the air. A wind rolled away from him which took everyone in the room off their feet, tossing them back as the wind cleared a perimeter around the Apollo Gorn. He orientated back to Garcia, his wounds healing in front of Garcia’s eyes. The orbs repositioned themselves. Bullets pushed to the surface of Apollo’s skin and dropped to the floor. He came forwards raising his sword for a killing blow. Losira beamed in and came right up behind him.
“I’m for you,” Losira said, reaching for him.
The Apollo Gorn slapped her down and sent her hurtling across the room. She disintegrated against a pillar. The Apollo Gorn turned back to Garcia just in time to see the sword penetrate his chest. Simultaneously with the insertion of the sword, all the orbs discharged onto Garcia at once. The energy flowed over him, through the sword, and into Apollo. The Gorn giant dissolved away revealing a human of normal proportions. Apollo shook his head, blood pouring from his mouth. Two Losira agents beamed in, ready for more action. All the robotic orbs fell to the ground, whether from shorting out or Apollo being mortally wounded was unknown.
“How can this be?” Apollo asked. “You’re only a mortal.”
Apollo disappeared, revealing his manifestation orb, hovering few centimeters off the floor. The orb dropped to the ground and rolled to Garcia’s feet. For a moment it seemed as if the Orb was dead, no power, but then it began to flicker, and then a steady illumination that began to brighten lit the orb, accompanied by a whine that was ascending in pitch.
“You’ve killed us all!” Shria yelled.
“Everyone take cover,” Garcia said, picking up the orb and tossing it towards one of the large, plate glass windows. It hit the glass and bounced. Garcia cursed, catching the ball as it came back towards him.
“Duana!” Garcia yelled, exiting the room, wanting her to follow.
Duana followed, her clothes morphing as she altered herself to grow wings. Once in the court yard, she took the ball and took to the skies. Garcia threw himself to the ground, a ground littered with dead robotic orbs. He covered the back of his neck with his hands.
Duana pivoted, stalling, and threw the ball straight up. Gravity was pulling her down, back first, before she rolled into a dive to accelerate away. The Apollo manifestation orb exploded and every piece of glass in a mile radius shattered. Garcia rolled over just in time to see Duana hit the ground, landing on her back. He went to her and checked her for signs of life.
Duana opened her eyes. “I love this body,” she said.
Garcia grabbed her up to him and hugged her.
“Are you alright?” Duana asked.
“Yes. Are you?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she said, her wings morphing back into her trench coat. She kissed him.
Garcia helped her to her feet, nodding, and they went inside to check on the others. Kitara held her sword at ready, daring Shria to display aggression.
“You’ll pay for this!” Shria said. She was bleeding from wounds caused by flying shards of broken glass and robotic exploding orbs.
“Haven’t you heard?” Garcia told her. “Earth is a moneyless society.”
The chandelier shook and Garcia went over to Vristel. He motioned to Micceal to help him lift the chandelier off her. Micceal did, lifting it all on his own power, and Garcia offered Vristel a hand up.
“Are you hurt?” Garcia asked.
“You must leave,” Vristel said. “And if you take me with you, I will tell you what you need to know.”
Shria drew a weapon to fire at Vistrel, but Kitara was on her before she had a chance to aim. Kitara took the weapon away by force, which meant injuring Shria’s arm.
“Done,” Garcia said, hitting his communicator. “Path Finder, can you get us out of here yet?”
“Possibly,” Undine said. “They’ve not attacked us yet.
“Add one to the beam out list. She’s standing beside me. STS, to the bridge,” Garcia said.
“Lowering shields, commencing transport,” Undine said.
Garcia and his team arrived on the Bridge. Only Garcia was sporting wounds.
“Oh my god,” Trini said, getting up from her station. “You’re bleeding!”
“Not now, Trini,” Garcia said, assessing the situation.
“Shields are back up,” Kitara said, taking her station. “Doctor Jurak to the Bridge.”
“I’m all right,” Garcia snapped. He pointed to the screen. “What is that, twenty?”
“Twenty Gorn ships, Captain,” Kitara said. “We’re surrounded. And Captain, scanners have located the transponder chip that belongs to Tama Orleans.”
“We’re being hailed by the most distant ship,” Trini said.
“On screen,” Garcia said.
The Doctor arrived on the Bridge as the Gorn appeared on the monitor. It was the same Gorn who had attacked them only a few weeks ago, recognizable by the scar on its face.
“You are a hard man to find, Captain,” the Gorn said.
“Do you have a name?” Garcia asked.
“Why would you want to know?” the Gorn said.
“I need to know what to put on your grave stone,” Garcia said.
“You talk pretty big for a man who is about to die,” the Gorn said. “These are not the old, clunky Gorn ships I first approached you with.”
Garcia brushed Doctor Jurak’s hands away and stepped forwards. “Where are they?” Garcia demanded.
The Gorn laughed.
“Captain,” Kitara said. “The Federation ship USS Zhukov has just dropped out of warp and is approaching, full impulse.”
“Trini, hail them and enlist their help,” Garcia said.
“They’re hailing us,” Trini said.
“Split screen,” Garcia said. “Mute the Gorn.”
“His name is Shule,” Vristel said.
“Captain Garcia.” The Star Fleet Officer on the screen was Captain Gleason, a person Garcia knew by reputation only. “You will stand down and prepare to be boarded.”
“Captain Gleason,” Garcia said, pausing only to observe information scrolling across a terminal feed next to him.
“Shule’s ship is leaving the area, half impulse,” Kitara announced, confirming Garcia’s observation.
“Don’t let him get away,” Garcia said, with a great deal more emotions than he should have to assure Captain Gleason that he was the reasonable part
