Beg, Steal or Borrow – The Tales of James Darson: Rule #48 - Part 1
by Colonel James Darson
Post Details
ON:
Sergeant James Darson stood at parade rest in front of his CO’s desk. He had been offered a chair, but had declined, instead choosing to remain in a partial form of attention despite the strain on his shoulders. The twin suns were down outside and it was getting late, but he wanted to get this thing taken care of.
The file was a couple of hundred pages long, and it pissed him off. There was no other way to describe it. He wanted it gone. Over and done with, so he could get out there and actually take some decisive action, but that wasn’t the way things worked. Even for somebody in his position, things like this needed to be reviewed by whoever occupied the top spot.
His hope was that Major Howard would simply read the summary and hand it back to him. But that wasn’t how he liked to do things. You didn’t become the leader of a squad like the Silencers by cutting corners and rushing off to pull a covert op half cocked. The senior officer had a photographic memory and a hyper-analytical mind in addition to his wealth of field experience. He was like one of those high end computers onboard a starship, churning through data, working on problems, judging risks vs. rewards, along with a billion other things. Howard’s grasp of the overall situation was second to none.
Darson watched him flip through the pages on the PADD with great speed, then backtrack to check on certain inconsistencies that he had no doubt were there. Preparing these reports was not his specialty. His skill set most certainly lay at the other end of the business. But the caution in this case was definitively prudent. This particular file could turn out to be toxic, the type of things that would ruin careers like a temporal anomaly popping up next to a Celestial class Space Station…or renegade Romulans, or Intelligence Officers who got a little too curious and made things personal.
Thank god he never had to deal with any of that.
Howard always wanted final review on things like this, and Darson was sure that it was a great idea. Not only did he have a better grasp of the overall picture than any of the other soldiers under his command, he was the boss. And that meant that ultimately it was his thick muscled Marine neck on the chopping block. If the pin was pulled, Darson would jump on the grenade without hesitation, but the vultures at Starfleet Command and HIGHCOM would want his hide too.
Darson respected him, which was no small thing. He was a loner. He’d been trained to operate independently, to survive in the field all on his own for months at a time. For some people, that type of work was unnerving. But for Darson, it was perfect. No paperwork, no one looking over his shoulder. No risk averse officer second guessing his every move. The Corp had created him, trained him well, taught him how to give it his all and turn him into a deadly weapon. But being involved in his particular MOS, a sniper, meant that he worked best with small groups or alone.
Guys like Darson didn’t like taking orders unless it was from somebody they really respected. Sure they would comply; after all, it was their job. But there was a big difference in being commanded by a fresh faced lieutenant right out of Officer’s school versus a veteran officer who had actually earned his commission, or even his warrant…especially when you’re involved in the special forces community.
Howard had that respect, and he had the clout to make things happen. Which was exactly what was needed for this situation.
Darson knew that they had the assets in place. He could set out in the morning and be done with it in 48 hours or less if there weren’t any surprises, and on this one there wouldn’t be. This guy was a moron of the highest order. He would never know what hit him. The problem was in the stir it might create. The aftermath. Personally, Darson didn’t exactly get how big of a deal it was, but he knew that if Howard hesitated, that would be the reason. After all, just because what they did was covert, didn’t mean that they weren’t fully unaccountable. Normally their job involved taking care of smugglers, rebels, people who wouldn’t be noticed by the media if they died or went missing. But this was a different story.
Howard tossed the PADD lightly onto the desk, where it slid into a pile of other PADDs, and began rubbing his eyes. Darson watched him cautiously. The man was like a father to him, to all the squad members in fact, and Darson had been around long enough to know that the rubbing of the eyes was not a good sign. That meant his head hurt, and in all likelihood the discomfort was due to the innocent looking PADD that Darson had dumped in his lap.
“Let me guess Sergeant,” he said slowly as he leaned forward and looked up at him with tired eyes, “you want to eliminate him.”
Darson nodded.
Howard sighed and leaned back as he indicated that Darson should relax his stance, “…I know that I’m being a hypocrite by saying this, but why is it that your solutions always involve killing someone?”
Darson shrugged sheepishly. Now that the formalities were out of the way, he could speak and act more freely, “It tends to be more permanent that way, Sir.”
The older man sighed, “True,” he said quietly as he nodded his head and placed a hand on the deactivated PADD.
Darson could feel that this was the time he should use to make his case, “What do you want me to say, sir? I’m not really into the whole rehabilitation concept. This guy had his chance. The Klingons had him locked up for almost two years. He’s been out for a month, and he’s already back to his same old tricks.”
“Have you bothered to think of the fallout?”
“Not really my forte sir?”
Howard glared at Darson.
“I’ve already talked to our Klingon counterparts sir. They’re as pissed off as we are…more so in fact. It’s their stupid judge who let the bastard go, Sir.”
Howard couldn’t deny that fact. He’d talked with a colleague in the Klingon Military on Qo’nos at length about this individual and several others, and the burly Klingon was not happy with his government’s decision to set the Ferengi pahtk free. The counterterrorism people in the Klingon Empire (what it consisted of anyway) didn’t like it anymore than they did.
“This guy is a known entity,” Howard said slowly, “The media has covered him, including his release. If he turns up dead, they’re going to jump all over it.”
“With all due respect sir, let them jump. It’ll last a day or two…maybe a week at the most, and then they’ll move onto something else the rancid scavengers. Besides, it’ll serve as a good message to all of those Orion Syndicate idiots who thing they can operate in civilized territories without fear.”
Howard looked back at him, his eyes revealing nothing, “What about our controllers? The brass? Even the president? People are going to want to know if any of us had a hand in it…we do not exist, Darson. Please tell me that you haven’t forgotten that.
Darson gave a small shrug, “Tell them you don’t know anything about it sir.”
Howard frowned, “Careful Sergeant…I don’t like lying to them. If so much as a single word gets out that we were on the same planet, we’ll be disbanded faster than you can break down a rifle. Plus…he’s a business man. A very prominent business man, if you know what I mean.”
Darson snorted, “He’s a thug who has perverted the Rules of Acquisition for his own sadistic needs. He supports Orion pirates, kidnaps children to be sold as slaves to them, and worst of all, he’s doing it right in under our noses.”
Howard shook his head, “And that’s another problem. Just how do you think that the Ferengi and the Grand Nagus will react to this? And what about the Klingons?”
“Publically sir, I’m sure some of them will be upset, but privately they’ll want to shower us with Latinum. We’ve even got SIGINT where two high ranking Klingon officers are talking about how they could make the guy disappear.”
“You’re not serious?”
“Very serious Sir. SI analysts picked it up this week.”
Howard studied him, “I have no doubts that our colleagues in all involved parties will privately applaud this man’s death, but that still doesn’t address the political fallout.”
Darson did not want to get involved in the politics of this. He’d lose if that’s where they ended up going. He took a deep breath and said, “Sir, may I speak freely?”
Howard looked troubled, but nodded.
“Listen…it’s bad enough when these vicious businessmen do their thing in the back waters of the galaxy, or rip off tourists at a space station. But we sure as hell can’t let this slid when it happens right here in our own backyard. To be honest with you sir, I hope that the press covers this…and I hope that the rest of those Orion assholes get the message loud and clear that we’re playing for keeps. That they can’t get away with these sorts of heinous crimes…we really do need to send a message like that.”
Howard didn’t like it, but deep down he agreed. With a resigned tone he asked, “How are you going to do it? We already have some assets sitting on him, I presume that you’re going to want those, right?”
“Yes sir. The team has been in place for six days watching him. This guy operates like clockwork. No real security to worry about. We can either walk up and pop him on the street, in which case we might have to hit anyone who’s with him, or we can take him out with a silenced rifle from a block or two away. Obviously, I would prefer the rifle shot. I can assure a one shot kill.”
Howard traced the PADD contemplatively, “Do you think that you can make him disappear?”
“With enough time and manpower I can do anything sir. But with all due respect, why complicate things?”
“The impact of this whole event will be significantly reduced if the press doesn’t have a body to show off…do you understand?
“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll look into it sir.”
Howard nodded his head a couple of times as he stared off into the distance and a thin smile suddenly appeared on his face, “Alright…I see you won't be dissuaded from this. Green light on this Darson. But make it quick…in case you’ve forgotten, we actually have some assignments that need completing as well.
Darson gave a small sigh of relief. That had been far harder than he had expected. But Howard had one more thing to say, “Just remember Darson. Number-one rule, don’t get caught.”
“Goes without saying sir. I’m very into self-preservation.”
Howard chuckled, “Dismissed,” As Darson saluted and left the room in a hurry, Howard shook his head in quiet resignation behind him, “Have fun,” he thought with a small smile on his face as the door closed behind him.
TBC....
OFF:
Lieutenant Colonel James Darson
Marine Commanding Officer
Deep Space 5
by Colonel James Darson
Post Details
| Title | The Tales of James Darson: Rule #48 - Part 1 | |
| Mission | Beg, Steal or Borrow | |
| Author(s) | Colonel James Darson | |
| Posted | Tue Jul 21, 2009 @ 4:09am | |
| Location | Unknown | |
| Timeline | 2368 |
Sergeant James Darson stood at parade rest in front of his CO’s desk. He had been offered a chair, but had declined, instead choosing to remain in a partial form of attention despite the strain on his shoulders. The twin suns were down outside and it was getting late, but he wanted to get this thing taken care of.
The file was a couple of hundred pages long, and it pissed him off. There was no other way to describe it. He wanted it gone. Over and done with, so he could get out there and actually take some decisive action, but that wasn’t the way things worked. Even for somebody in his position, things like this needed to be reviewed by whoever occupied the top spot.
His hope was that Major Howard would simply read the summary and hand it back to him. But that wasn’t how he liked to do things. You didn’t become the leader of a squad like the Silencers by cutting corners and rushing off to pull a covert op half cocked. The senior officer had a photographic memory and a hyper-analytical mind in addition to his wealth of field experience. He was like one of those high end computers onboard a starship, churning through data, working on problems, judging risks vs. rewards, along with a billion other things. Howard’s grasp of the overall situation was second to none.
Darson watched him flip through the pages on the PADD with great speed, then backtrack to check on certain inconsistencies that he had no doubt were there. Preparing these reports was not his specialty. His skill set most certainly lay at the other end of the business. But the caution in this case was definitively prudent. This particular file could turn out to be toxic, the type of things that would ruin careers like a temporal anomaly popping up next to a Celestial class Space Station…or renegade Romulans, or Intelligence Officers who got a little too curious and made things personal.
Thank god he never had to deal with any of that.
Howard always wanted final review on things like this, and Darson was sure that it was a great idea. Not only did he have a better grasp of the overall picture than any of the other soldiers under his command, he was the boss. And that meant that ultimately it was his thick muscled Marine neck on the chopping block. If the pin was pulled, Darson would jump on the grenade without hesitation, but the vultures at Starfleet Command and HIGHCOM would want his hide too.
Darson respected him, which was no small thing. He was a loner. He’d been trained to operate independently, to survive in the field all on his own for months at a time. For some people, that type of work was unnerving. But for Darson, it was perfect. No paperwork, no one looking over his shoulder. No risk averse officer second guessing his every move. The Corp had created him, trained him well, taught him how to give it his all and turn him into a deadly weapon. But being involved in his particular MOS, a sniper, meant that he worked best with small groups or alone.
Guys like Darson didn’t like taking orders unless it was from somebody they really respected. Sure they would comply; after all, it was their job. But there was a big difference in being commanded by a fresh faced lieutenant right out of Officer’s school versus a veteran officer who had actually earned his commission, or even his warrant…especially when you’re involved in the special forces community.
Howard had that respect, and he had the clout to make things happen. Which was exactly what was needed for this situation.
Darson knew that they had the assets in place. He could set out in the morning and be done with it in 48 hours or less if there weren’t any surprises, and on this one there wouldn’t be. This guy was a moron of the highest order. He would never know what hit him. The problem was in the stir it might create. The aftermath. Personally, Darson didn’t exactly get how big of a deal it was, but he knew that if Howard hesitated, that would be the reason. After all, just because what they did was covert, didn’t mean that they weren’t fully unaccountable. Normally their job involved taking care of smugglers, rebels, people who wouldn’t be noticed by the media if they died or went missing. But this was a different story.
Howard tossed the PADD lightly onto the desk, where it slid into a pile of other PADDs, and began rubbing his eyes. Darson watched him cautiously. The man was like a father to him, to all the squad members in fact, and Darson had been around long enough to know that the rubbing of the eyes was not a good sign. That meant his head hurt, and in all likelihood the discomfort was due to the innocent looking PADD that Darson had dumped in his lap.
“Let me guess Sergeant,” he said slowly as he leaned forward and looked up at him with tired eyes, “you want to eliminate him.”
Darson nodded.
Howard sighed and leaned back as he indicated that Darson should relax his stance, “…I know that I’m being a hypocrite by saying this, but why is it that your solutions always involve killing someone?”
Darson shrugged sheepishly. Now that the formalities were out of the way, he could speak and act more freely, “It tends to be more permanent that way, Sir.”
The older man sighed, “True,” he said quietly as he nodded his head and placed a hand on the deactivated PADD.
Darson could feel that this was the time he should use to make his case, “What do you want me to say, sir? I’m not really into the whole rehabilitation concept. This guy had his chance. The Klingons had him locked up for almost two years. He’s been out for a month, and he’s already back to his same old tricks.”
“Have you bothered to think of the fallout?”
“Not really my forte sir?”
Howard glared at Darson.
“I’ve already talked to our Klingon counterparts sir. They’re as pissed off as we are…more so in fact. It’s their stupid judge who let the bastard go, Sir.”
Howard couldn’t deny that fact. He’d talked with a colleague in the Klingon Military on Qo’nos at length about this individual and several others, and the burly Klingon was not happy with his government’s decision to set the Ferengi pahtk free. The counterterrorism people in the Klingon Empire (what it consisted of anyway) didn’t like it anymore than they did.
“This guy is a known entity,” Howard said slowly, “The media has covered him, including his release. If he turns up dead, they’re going to jump all over it.”
“With all due respect sir, let them jump. It’ll last a day or two…maybe a week at the most, and then they’ll move onto something else the rancid scavengers. Besides, it’ll serve as a good message to all of those Orion Syndicate idiots who thing they can operate in civilized territories without fear.”
Howard looked back at him, his eyes revealing nothing, “What about our controllers? The brass? Even the president? People are going to want to know if any of us had a hand in it…we do not exist, Darson. Please tell me that you haven’t forgotten that.
Darson gave a small shrug, “Tell them you don’t know anything about it sir.”
Howard frowned, “Careful Sergeant…I don’t like lying to them. If so much as a single word gets out that we were on the same planet, we’ll be disbanded faster than you can break down a rifle. Plus…he’s a business man. A very prominent business man, if you know what I mean.”
Darson snorted, “He’s a thug who has perverted the Rules of Acquisition for his own sadistic needs. He supports Orion pirates, kidnaps children to be sold as slaves to them, and worst of all, he’s doing it right in under our noses.”
Howard shook his head, “And that’s another problem. Just how do you think that the Ferengi and the Grand Nagus will react to this? And what about the Klingons?”
“Publically sir, I’m sure some of them will be upset, but privately they’ll want to shower us with Latinum. We’ve even got SIGINT where two high ranking Klingon officers are talking about how they could make the guy disappear.”
“You’re not serious?”
“Very serious Sir. SI analysts picked it up this week.”
Howard studied him, “I have no doubts that our colleagues in all involved parties will privately applaud this man’s death, but that still doesn’t address the political fallout.”
Darson did not want to get involved in the politics of this. He’d lose if that’s where they ended up going. He took a deep breath and said, “Sir, may I speak freely?”
Howard looked troubled, but nodded.
“Listen…it’s bad enough when these vicious businessmen do their thing in the back waters of the galaxy, or rip off tourists at a space station. But we sure as hell can’t let this slid when it happens right here in our own backyard. To be honest with you sir, I hope that the press covers this…and I hope that the rest of those Orion assholes get the message loud and clear that we’re playing for keeps. That they can’t get away with these sorts of heinous crimes…we really do need to send a message like that.”
Howard didn’t like it, but deep down he agreed. With a resigned tone he asked, “How are you going to do it? We already have some assets sitting on him, I presume that you’re going to want those, right?”
“Yes sir. The team has been in place for six days watching him. This guy operates like clockwork. No real security to worry about. We can either walk up and pop him on the street, in which case we might have to hit anyone who’s with him, or we can take him out with a silenced rifle from a block or two away. Obviously, I would prefer the rifle shot. I can assure a one shot kill.”
Howard traced the PADD contemplatively, “Do you think that you can make him disappear?”
“With enough time and manpower I can do anything sir. But with all due respect, why complicate things?”
“The impact of this whole event will be significantly reduced if the press doesn’t have a body to show off…do you understand?
“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll look into it sir.”
Howard nodded his head a couple of times as he stared off into the distance and a thin smile suddenly appeared on his face, “Alright…I see you won't be dissuaded from this. Green light on this Darson. But make it quick…in case you’ve forgotten, we actually have some assignments that need completing as well.
Darson gave a small sigh of relief. That had been far harder than he had expected. But Howard had one more thing to say, “Just remember Darson. Number-one rule, don’t get caught.”
“Goes without saying sir. I’m very into self-preservation.”
Howard chuckled, “Dismissed,” As Darson saluted and left the room in a hurry, Howard shook his head in quiet resignation behind him, “Have fun,” he thought with a small smile on his face as the door closed behind him.
TBC....
OFF:
Lieutenant Colonel James Darson
Marine Commanding Officer
Deep Space 5